Why I grow a Moustache in November

He said, with tears in his eyes, ‘I’m so sorry, I feel like I’ve let you all down?’

‘My mum has told me so much about you and I’m so sorry I’ve done this again.’

This was a man. A young, smart, insightful and articulate man.

He ended up in an intensive care unit, not that dissimilar to one you may have worked in.


Seroquel the first time.

Lithium the second.

In intensive care, we don’t usually get to know the person behind the overdose. We aren’t even usually afforded the awkward discomfort of getting to know the illness that underlies his attempts to take his own life.

This time I did.

When he said sorry, I felt my breathing pause and my own eyes prickled.

I got to know his family, his story, his sadness, and ultimately his gratitude at having not succeeded.


The point I’m trying to make is two-fold.

There is no such person as the ‘overdose in Bed 7’.

Young, smart, insightful, and articulate men get depression.

That’s why I grow a moustache in November. That’s why I make an extra effort to talk about men’s health.




Movember is fun.

Depression is not.

Please support men’s health, we’re not that great at talking about this stuff.

Have a conversation.

Donate some money for research and awareness raising.

Join a team or grow it alone.



Document this CPD