"I should realize you are sick and to not scream at you like I did last night," my father told me. "I am sorry. I just had a terrible day in that drug store. I work so hard. I get so damned tired of working all the time."
"It's okay, dad. I love you and just want us to be okay," I replied.
"Will you at least take your anti-psychotic? Please take the Risperdal," my father pleaded with me.
I took the little white pill and you could see a wave of relief come over my father. I was just so paranoid all those medications were causing my panic attacks. I have felt so much better without them. I compromised and will take that one pill -- the one pill I know that helps with my schizophrenia. I have never had side effects from my Risperdal.
"I brought you some cokes," he then said with a smile much to my joy. "I know how much you love them. I am going to get you some groceries, too."
"Joyce brought me groceries," I replied. "Although it is an eclectic mix of things. I have enough mac and cheese to feed an army."
We talked for a long time about my neighbor, Joyce. My father is very worried about her. They went to high school together and have known each other for 30 or more years. Joyce struggles so and it reminds me of myself.
"You be her friend," he told me. "You be there for her. She doesn't have anybody. It is unique you two live next to each other. Fate had a hand in that."
I promised my father I would. He left me to curl up on the couch to watch The Weather Channel. I could soon feel the medication start to take effect and the paranoia I had been dealing with all day started to melt away. Compromise. Simple, yet so hard to do.