After we got home last night I blogged, tried to get started on my email, and then went in to talk to Bart in the Dining Room. Within a few minutes, John came in, very agitated. It took me two hours to talk him down. Two long, weird hours, where he was all over the place in his thoughts and words, contradicting himself, illogical, very emotional... from tears to anger to accusations to talking about not wanting to live.
I put up with it because of examples I have seen in Cindy and Paula and learning from their experiences. I normally don’t have the patience it takes. My goal was to get him to take his evening medications. I do not believe that they are working -- he’s definitely been way off track lately -- but I can’t prove that they aren’t if he doesn’t take them because then the psychiatrist (and logically so) will say that they are the right meds, but he’s just not getting enough of them. So Bart and I have made sure for the past two weeks that he is getting every pill and it seems that he is getting worse not better. (Before that we think he may have been hiding them or something).
The result of the conversation was that John actually took his pill and spent the night here. Another result is that I have a huge headache, got to bed late, and woke up feeling dizzy. Today I am going to try to reach the psychiatrist...
This morning was particularly hard to get everyone out the door and I feel physically quite unequipped to face my day...
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