Joyce had to go back to the hospital tonight. It was a short lived furlough, her being home. She was acting strangely as if she was drugged. Slow. Confused. She came over this evening and acted as if she were mired in molasses -- each movement seeming painful and retarded.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she told me nervously, chain smoking Marlboro lights. "I am usually so hyper. I am such an active person."
I walked over to her home and looked at the medications she was taking. "Dear God," I muttered under my breath viewing all the many pill bottles. No wonder she feels drugged. She is taking enough medications to anesthetize an elephant. I don't see how she remembers to take all that. I would be having problems with compliance, too!
I stood out in the yard as her sister, Janice, came and got her.
"Bye sweetheart. You get to feeling better," I said as I waved.
"Watch after my house for me," Joyce replied after me as she shut the car's door. "And hug Maggie goodnight."
I shut my front door as they were driving down the street to take Joyce back to her home away from home. I could see Joyce looking out the rear view window of Janice's Mazda. I felt a lot of gratitude for not being caught in mental hospitals this Christmas season. I know several people that have spent some time inside. The holidays are always a hard time for us mentally interesting folks. Let's hope I can hold out till after New Year's.