Immediately after my 1st and nearly successful attempt, there was a queue at my door wanting to give help. I accepted it all. Group therapy was great, it gave me some purpose. The case workers were great, I had a wonderful rapport with one of them. The first little head doc was great, he actually listened and thought about what he heard. Suddenly, I had more hope than I had had for a long time.
But slowly, as you try to recover, the help dries up and is replaced by, well, nothing very much. The one place I went where I felt I fit in, closed, funding withdrawn. The little head doc moved on and the others I saw were just not in the same ball park. Therapy decided I was "stable" so it all stopped. Medical professionals cannot do anything about the physical stuff.
So began the slow decline to where I am now, more or less back to square one. The only real difference will be, I am now much more educated about suicide and am determined the next attempt will be the last.