In a judicious denial last night, I wrote, "An e-mail from Dad states that everything is all right down south and that Mum is 'fine.' I'm leaving it at that until after New Year's Eve."
Why the fuck do I jinx my family by saying things like this?
Trevor e-mailed while I was sleeping. Mum is back in the psych ward. Looks like she'll be there for Christmas. Over the past few months, her local family doctor, whom I would personally enjoy throttling if I ever have the opportunity, reduced her medication from 1500mg to 200mg. Oh my fucking god. What the fuck was he thinking? Yeah, she's been unable to reduce her medication without being hospitalized for mania despite frequent attempts in the last 18 fucking years, but you know, maybe this time it will work! Fucking idiot. Or, as Trevor so succinctly put it, "Bugger the GP."
Trevor is definitely growing on me.
To make Christmas even more festive for the Shong household this year, Dad is back in hospital with a blood infection. Trevor says he's very skinny and won't stop passing blood.
I'm upset that both my parents are so unwell, but at least they are in the safest place possible. Especially Mum. Knowing that she was having a breakdown and that the only people around her were a schizophrenic who has never committed her before, an invalid dying of cancer, and a 93-year-old grandfather was worrying. I'm glad she was looked after, and Dad too. And, horrible as it is that they will spend their Yuletide in wards, I'm glad Trevor might get a little peace this Christmas.
God rest ye merry, Gentlemen. Let nothing you dismay.