Monthly Archives: November 2014

What happened Monday Morning

On Saturday I forgot to give my love his lunch time pill. On Sunday he slept all day and was feeling terrible (“I think I could be dying.” “”Oh? Do you feel like you’re dying?” “I don’t know, I’ve never done it before.”)

 So feeling worried that the little anti-psychotic pill was making him worse, I deliberately left out the lunch pill.

 Monday he was somewhat better but speaking in garble, and I realised I had run out of his pill packs and we had to go to the drugstore to get more. I didn’t want to give him just the little pill in case he realised something was strange.

By about 10 o’clock he was in full meltdown mode — drivers’ license, me taking his car and his life away and all. It is really abusive and nothing to be done about it, except get the pill into him and wait. And think evil thoughts about how sick people are allowed to be abusive whereas if he were well I would be long gone.  

I got his pills, but didn’t feel he was stable yet and I should leave him with another person who has never seen him have a real meltdown. By about 2 he was happy again.

 But I missed my pool exercise.

The Sequel

During the evening he got very tired and confused me with his sister, and then cried because he remembered his sister  was dead.

That night was dreadful, complete with hallucinations of people in the room and then later, not knowing where we were. Repeatedly. We even got up and explored the house and he said he remembered the house and furniture, but after we lay down again he was back to the repetitive questioning about where we were.

At 1:45 I had had enough and gave him a Seroquel for a sleeping pill, and took one myself because by then I was so tense I was vibrating.

Silence descended and we slept until 8 AM.



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how are you?

“Good morning! How are you today?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know WHO I am.”

And at that piece of honesty, I reverted into the hearty assurances which I have seen so many people give – you know – the “Oh we all have memory problems” – the kind of assurance that leaves my love just looking away – too confused to argue, but knowing full well the assurance is false.

“Well,” I said, pulling out my best psycho babble, “I guess none of us really know who we are….”

He just looked away.

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