How long is too long?

L’s Case co-ordinator calls. I am waiting for a call from the GP and I talk to her while holding my other phone. They want me to come in for weekly Friday morning sessions. I cannot see how it is possible, I think about my diary booked up and the effort to go through each appointment and try and change and rearrange. Something else to do.  But she insists that this would help.  I think I can’t do this much longer, constantly trying to find hours that aren’t there. I ask whether anyone has thought how long L needs to  be there.  We had talked about a few months. Hesitating, she tells me L will need months more.  Worst case scenario, a year.  I am in a deserted office at work trying to find a quiet space.  I just want to cry.  But I can’t. There are people everywhere and I don’t want sympathy or a hug. I just want my girl back.  I talk on, blinking tears back wondering how I can deal with this.  I just cannot find more time. The doctor  calls and we agree to double my prescription. Good news at least.  I sit in the dark office and wonder if I can stay and cry for a while. But I  can’t – people would notice my red eyes. I take a deep breath, swallow the lump in my throat and walk back to my own office thinking I have absolutely no idea what to do next, except put one foot in front of the other and for now that will have to do

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4 responses to “How long is too long?

  1. Your putting one foot in front of the other is a testament to your strength and commitment to doing everything that you have to do. Totally understandable to feel like staying in an empty office and crying, you’re under a lot of pressure on all sides and it’s okay to let that out sometimes. It’s heartbreaking that this journey to recovery takes such a long time, Even if it is the worse case scenario and L stays at the unit for all that time, she and you will get there together.
    If the Friday morning sessions are going to put stresses on your diary commitments (as much as I know you would drop everything for L) maybe they can schedule them on an evening when you would be more easily able to get there. You are only human after all and still have everything else in life to get done as well as all your support for L and the rest of the family.
    Know one thing though, those of us reading your posts and following this journey, we’re all thinking, wishing and hoping for the road to be easier for you all. And if there was anything we could do practically to help, from where ever we are, even though I’m just a regular young person, I know I’d do it (as am sure would many more).
    Thinking of you, Take care.

  2. I just wanted to say, that it is better to do it all at once – and for her to be completely recovered, rather than do a little while; come out of hospital, relapse & end up back in for much longer (I did the latter, and can tell you from experience, the second time in is my harder and I came out worse after)
    keep being strong, from what you write, it sounds like your daughter is making progress – slow but definitely progress. Don’t expect a sprint, recovering is like a marathon xx

  3. I know, I think it’s just the open ended ness of it all. If they said, “It will take twelve months”, it would be grim, but I would cope better. But to use your marathon analogy, it is like running and running and having no sense of where the finish line is. I can look back and see how far we have come, but have no sense of how much more is ahead. I guess I need to re-read my Just Keep Swimming post, because it does seem that I need to take my advice of Head Down, Just Keep Going. Thanks x

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