Siren's Call and Telephone Calls

The phone’s ring crashed the morning’s quiet … and don’t ask me how or why … but I knew that the caller ID would flash --- unknown caller. And wouldn’t you know it … right again!
Steady now … and a few unintentional breathless moments later … the dead air left my lungs in a fell swoosh … J was safe. As safe as anyone can be in the Psych Ward. And so back onto the merry-round we go …
… social workers looking for reasons behind every tear, every pause, every “I don’t know” …… psychiatrists with their Cheshire Cat smiles betraying nary a thought from behind their tortoise-shell glasses and their surprisingly pop-culture reassurances.
If any one ever tells me to put my stresses and worries into a box again … they’d better run fast and far … for I won’t be responsible for my actions.
Imagine … a shell-shocked family … each member mourning the demise of J as we knew him … while at the same time harbouring fears that maybe something we / they said or didn’t say may have been the “cause” … or at least the straw that broke the camel’s back … and what does the ultimate authority on the mental health strata offer as advice … “just take your troubles, put them in a box … place the box oin a shelf … and move forward.” There’s a television jingle in there somewhere … if I could only put my troubles in a box long enough to think straight.
My entire life I’ve had faith in that system … and believed in the science of psychology and psychiatry … only to have cold water splashed in my face. Actually the system consists of restraints, removal of priveleges, medication of every colour of the rainbow, long days of wandering the halls in hospital gowns and paper slippers … waiting, waiting … for the medication to kick in.
Once fully medicated the rush is on to get the patient home … and yet the system knows that the chances of the meds being taken regularly are slim to none … and the patient file stays open …
The second time Jonathan was hospitalized I was greeted by the charge nurse with this comment – “Oh wow … has it really been 9 months since we last saw Jonathan … I thought we’d see him much sooner than this …”
So I educate myself … at the library, at support group meetings, online … I know all about the side effects of the meds, which meds are typically prescribed … fuck – I’m a walking mental health library …… schizophrenia … schizoid affect … bi-polar … mood disorders … Where’s the pop quiz … I’ll surely ace this one ….
I visit Jonathan today … and as I leave the ward … my eyes fill with tears … for though the voice that droned responses to my questions was my son’s voices … and the arms that hugged me were familiar … the eyes were those of a stranger … a very frightened, confused stranger.
J … where are you?