July 10, 2004

 
July 9th started out rather well, lack of sleep notwithstanding, but when I was just sitting down to lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in quite a long time I got a phone call. Stew was down, so far into the pit of confusion and being overwhelmed that he didn't know what to do, and he didn't know if he could go on, and he was so upset, and he sounded so bad.

He hadn't had his anti-psychotics the night before, he ran out and had forgotten to get more. It's amazing what a few hours without anti-psychotics can do, how quickly he can become overwhelmed and start feeling psychotic. He knows the feeling now, when he starts to become psychotic.

I told him to do nothing, to forget about all the tasks he had to do, and that when I returned from my afternoon client we'd go to Costco and get his meds. Until then, do nothing, just relax, stay in a safe place and decompress. Or try to.

And I had my lunch, and then I stopped off to see him for a few minutes before going on to my client's. He was a bit better, he'd been somewhat comforted by my reassurances earlier, enough to regain a bit of perspective.

After I finished with the client we went to Costco for his meds. He said he could go, and I do encourage him to do what he can instead of retreating, but of course I wouldn't let him go by himself, not in that condition, no way. He drove, and we made jokes along the way. What else is there to do?

We dropped off the prescription, the crowds being somewhat of an annoyance, but we managed. We were going to wait at a nearby Starbuck's for the half hour it would take to get the scrip filled, Costco having way too many people and too much activity. Starbuck's was no better however. Inside he became quite agitated, had to go to the isolation of the restroom, and I waited, not knowing if he'd be coming back out soon or not. And when he came out he mumbled something about vultures all around trying to grab at him, to eat the dead, and he was dead.

There's not much a latte can do for one in that situation, so I steered him out of Starbuck's and asked him to sit in the truck with me while I called my bank. They had a hold on my debit card until I would call and verify transactions. I don't know why -- the most suspicious activity on my card was a charge for $2.49 at a bakery. I should never escape from a bakery spending that little.

I told him the vultures (other people) weren't really after him at all, they were just being people, milling about and crowding and just being. And we sat in the truck and it took about 20 minutes to deal with the bank anyway, so we didn't have time to be bored.

We waited in line. We got the meds. Drove home. He went home, and I realized the day was gone and I hadn't done some of the things I'd planned on. But that's just how these things happen. Stew's mom IM'd me, I told her he was doing okay, and she said there was something on tv, she'd talk to me later, and I broke down after that.

Just tired. Just wondering when it's my turn, which is really stupid because it's always my turn. I don't feel I can inflict myself on anyone else, so I try to keep self-contained, knowing that if I don't, I'll only drive people away. I'd like to feel I can rely on someone, but I don't feel I should. Knowing that it's true what people have said that no one will be serious about me, about being with me, as long as I take care of him, but knowing that there is nothing else to be done. I have someone, but he can't possibly be serious about me, I don't see how anyone could be, and that's under normal circumstances. With my extenuating circumstances? No way.

So I get over it. I go on. That's all any of us can do. Things just are what they are.
Stew and I talk about me getting remarried. He knows that's what happens. But who'd want me? That's what I don't understand.

A. came home, after I was about done feeling sorry for myself. (So pathetic!) And right away he made me feel better, he always does. I'd almost forgotten how good this feels. And I was afraid this would happen. I get too attached. I'm hopeless.

On another subject entirely (the subject of me is boring even me, so I can imagine what it's doing for you) I've had an idea for a book rolling around in my head. Okay, so this is still about me. I'm incorrigible.

Stew's doing better today. Back on his meds. Two incidents this week. No wonder he's exhausted. I reassured him about that today, that of course he'd be exhausted and needed rest . . . I needed rest, and I'm just a bystander. It must be incredibly draining for him. The repercussions of his "condition" are more than just the immediate problems, each incident leaves a miasma behind, a density that we have to navigate out of carefully and slowly . . . too quickly, and recovery may not happen. Might have to go back through another incident first. It's a balancing act.

But another week has passed anyway. It always does.