Returning to Drs.

I was about to copy and paste from my essay to here,  but if I did, would I be accused of plagiarism by the dreaded 'Turnitin' bot?

If that's out, I'll just have to describe what happened instead. The day of the appointment. Josh sat on the sofa. That's what happened. I locked myself in the bathroom to cry uncontrollably and write (the two have to go together, that's my recipe for sanity) . Meanwhile husband left the house to take son's appointment at the doctors, as an opportunity to say how it is.

Through my tears I heard husband outside bathroom door saying, 'I can't do it'. Basically, given our philosophical view point, doing anything that shifts Josh closer to the mental health team, and sectioning, feels like contacting the Gestapo.

The rational view point that he needs meds, is fine and dandy except reality is, he wont take them = sectioning. Strangely enough, he does care about that, since it haunts his present hysteria about 'being taken away'. I'd like to believe some part of him will remember he's been through it already; all the impressions of being disemboweled, catheterized, held down...are fragments of un-homed memory from being in hospital, and the Prometheus van that took him way to Bushy Fields. That's my version.

The other factor is he doesn't feel a thing as he watches us fall apart, because he didn't feel a thing when he was falling apart

So that leaves us where we are...managing or not. On Thursday we went out to eat. For the whole of the meal, Josh talked about the usual imminent murder, torture, rape etc while my husband and I waited for one of us to put a foot wrong; for instance if I accidentally came out of my catatonic gaze and picked up on some emotive comment, thus inviting ex service user to become more insistent. Into shouting at us and smashing things.

We were out of the house because we hadn't been out since....no idea. As my dyspepsia increased, my usual feeling as if my skin is crawling, become increasingly unbearable and I thought, let's not do this again.

Next day was Friday, doctor appointment at 3. It wasn't going to happen. It happened before because he knew the police would check up on him. .

I'd like to believe that there is a way through this bardo, I don't. On the positive side I saw Brian Thorne in my dreams twice and I keep dreaming of The Endless Forest..