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- 02/20/2013
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2013 - Spring - A Night To Remember Entry
The Strength of Love - 1. Chapter 1
The symptoms started two years ago. I should have been more careful. My father had had it, so I should’ve known not to drink, not to do anything to further damage my brain. But I’d been careless.
First I started getting insomnia. I wouldn’t sleep for days at a time, popping caffeine pills like candy and frustrating the hell out of Adam.
Then I started hearing things. I’d be working at my desk, and someone would whisper into my ear. It wasn’t bad at first.
Then the visions started. It got so that I couldn’t look straight at my boss because I was scared of what I would see in place of his face. When it started happening with Adam as well I stopped functioning. Adam would leave for work, expecting me to leave a few minutes later, like normal, but I would get undressed and lay in bed all day. I was fired within a week.
Adam didn’t understand why I wasn’t communicating with him. He thought it was because of my troubles at work.
After about a year of this, I could tell he was getting tired. I was continually forgetting to shower, brush my teeth; I couldn’t even properly clothe myself.
I still loved him dearly, but I didn’t know how to get it out anymore. Showing affection became a huge task. He kept begging me to let him take me to the doctor, but every time the subject came up, we’d scream at each other for hours.
Finally, one day, I was trying to do something for him. I tried cooking him dinner but got lost halfway through. I wandered away and left the pot on high. When Adam came home the stove was on fire and I was sitting on the couch watching TV.
He called my sister, who we spoke to barely twice a year, and asked her if she knew what was going on. She told him about our father and agreed to come up and help take me to a hospital.
The hospital psychologist confirmed what she thought.
I had disorganized schizophrenia.
They had me committed at the closest mental health facility and Adam came to visit me three times a week. My speech had degraded so much that I couldn’t even say his name.
“Dam.” I called him.
He cried every time he left.
Even though I knew he was hurting, his visits were the highlight of my week. He’d come and read Walt Whitman poems to me, laying on my small bed with me snuggled up against his side. He’d listen to me chatter about what had happened since the last time he had visited, though he probably couldn’t understand anything I was saying. My words came out jumbled, and I couldn’t stay on one topic very long.
Sometimes he would cry into my hair while he was holding me. I would try to comfort him, but every time I spoke he would cry harder.
I had a bad day when he came once, he started crying and I got frustrated because I couldn’t make him feel better like I used to.
I tried to undo his pants but he stopped me and told me that we couldn’t do that. I started screaming and threw a lamp against the wall. He wrapped his arms around me and held me as I screeched and flailed.
He didn’t come back for two weeks.
When he did visit again, I tried to make myself better. I behaved as well as I could and tried to speak as articulately as possible. He seemed happy that I was trying more.
Soon after, the doctors started me on a new drug, and it seemed to work. The voices quieted and the visions that the other drugs had dampened went away. My thoughts eventually straightened out and I started functioning by myself.
The first time I had already showered and dressed myself when Adam came to visit me he wrapped me up impossibly tight in his arms and didn’t let go until he had to leave.
The next time, we talked. He asked me questions and I was able to properly answer him without getting off topic. He started talking about bringing me home.
First we tried weekend trips. He picked me on Friday after he got off work and we went straight home. He cooked me dinner and we watched Airplane!, one of my favorite movies. We kissed a little, but nothing else happened. He brought me back Sunday afternoon.
Five more weekends like this went by. One night I finally scraped up the courage to stiltedly ask him if he didn’t want me anymore. We were lying in bed, and he turned me to face him. He stroked my face and told me he loved me more than ever. He was just worried that I might not be ready.
I told him that if he didn’t make love to me right then, I didn’t want to come home the next weekend.
It was the first time we had had sex in over a year.
It was as amazing as all of our other times smashed together into one. He was so gentle with me, and I tried to give as much back to him as I could. I wanted him to realize that I still needed him, not just because of my disease, but because I loved him.
After a few more months of weekend trips, the doctors said that my schizophrenia was now residual and that if Adam was comfortable, he could take me home.
I still had to meet with a shrink twice a week, but we were happy.
The drugs made me tired and twitchy and I had permanent dry mouth, but I was determined to stay on them for Adam.
Eventually I was able to get a job as a clerk at a grocery store down the street. It wasn’t much, but Adam was so proud of me.
Every day he showered me with love and chased my shadows further into the recesses of my mind.
He was healing me.
***
Adam died last week.
He was hit by a truck on his way home from work. The police found flowers and a card addressed to me on the passenger seat.
It said;
Dear Eli,
I will always love you. No matter how disorganized or scattered you get, I’ll always be there to hold you. The whole time you were hospitalized, I kept reading about the people who were never able to recover. I was so scared. Sometimes I called in sick to work, I missed you so much. I would sit in the living room just holding your picture. But every time I went to see you, I could see the determination in your eyes. I can still see it every day. Your strength told me that we could do it. We would make it through, together. I know it’s hard, I know sometimes you hate taking your pills, but you do it anyway. You’re stronger than I could ever hope to be. Keep being the amazing man you’ve always been. I love you.
Happy Anniversary,
Adam.
I’m still taking my pills. Eventually, when the day comes that I get to be with him again, I want to be able to tell him that I stayed strong.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2013 - Spring - A Night To Remember Entry
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