Gingerbread Days

To put it simply, some days are of made of gingerbread and some are made of madness. Some people too.

I see the number on my cell phone and hesitate, knowing that if I answer, chances are good that it will not be good news, may even be hysteria. The process of finding a rehab bed for my old friend, Henry, is not going as well as hoped and his wife calls several times a day - she leaves me weary and impatient, caught between wanting to offer comfort and hope on one hand, strangulation on the other. If she's having a good day, she will be attentive and reasonable, calm and sane. If not, she will revert to sobs and self pity, a veritable weeping willow of complaints, angry at the world. My own day is not going well as we are understaffed and badly overbooked and after several rings I let it go to voice mail - I'll return the call later when my mind is clearer and I have time to listen. Lately I find it's helpful to ration my energy as it seems to be in limited supply.

Apart from addiction, I know little and understand less about mental illness. She doesn't hear voices, doesn't have hallucinations, she's worked in a law firm all her adult life and appears to be a valued and respected employee and yet .... how to explain the random episodes of violence, public screaming matches, free floating rage and frequent bouts of uncontrollable hysteria. A little madness goes a long way toward achieving an end and I admit that I've often suspected her breakdowns are selective and strategically well planned, happening as they do when she fails to get her way, meets any form of opposition from her husband and daughter, or wants out of a particular situation. Can this really all be nothing but a sinister temper in an unpredictable, jealous, resentful and moody woman? Or something far more serious and embedded, some twisted brain chemistry that might respond to treatment?

It's not for me to know, of course, but of one thing I have no doubt - this crisis will pass and once it does, no matter how it should end, we will both go back to our lives and this hastily built and improbable friendship will pass with it. Madness, I imagine, might be catching if you linger with it too long.