Dear A is still in hospital, or rather in a different hospital in a different town (a sudden and unsettling move necessitated by 'bed management' issues). He has what you might call clear spells and cloudy spells. He wants to go home. Who could blame him. An acute psych ward is no-one's choice of billet. On Monday, after being transported late the previous evening to this unfamiliar environment, he spent the day walking around with his backpack on, approaching the door whenever anyone came in or went out. He borrowed my pen to write me a note saying
Dear P, this is a hospital. Let's leave, A.
So many moments to break your heart. I am trying to find the bigger picture, the longer view. If I don't I am going to burn out fast.
3 comments:
Oh, the note really is heart-rending isn't it?
A chunk of finger OR 20p might have been some kind of exchange, rather akin to the pound of flesh against whatever was owed in that instance, but taking both seems excessive...
Yes, the longer view... But even with that, it's still heartbreaking. And even with that, there is no guarantee burnout doesn't singe you.
With my loved one out of the locked assisted facility and in a group home, I am holding my breath as I hope that he can stay on the meds and in the swim of the narrowed river that his life has become.
You will find the bigger picture, in fact it's probably there but so hard to see. Take care.
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