Today, without any warning whatsoever, we make our third visit to House of Mercy. Sorry about that, it just totally slipped my mind while writing yesterday's post.
Kat and I took a trip up to Penticton this morning for a midwife appointment. We'll be doing that every week until baby comes, as tomorrow marks one month until the due date arrives. Everything went well, as has been the case all along with this pregnancy.
Also tomorrow? I'll be working at the community centre from 2 until 9. I ran into one of the ladies who is higher up on the relief seniority list at the park yesterday and she mentioned she'll be unavailable for all of March while her daughter and her family is in town for a visit.
So hopefully that means more calls for me this month.
Julie opened her eyes. Not with enthusiasm, but with great reluctance. Those days, that was always how she woke up. She didn't know what she was going to find waiting for her, and she didn't want to know.
This time there was only blackness. It was a relief. But only briefly.
"Have I gone blind?" she whispered. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. She could discern a slight difference in the depth and texture of the dark. "No, I suppose not. Must be night then."
Julie talked to herself a lot during those days. She knew it must only encourage the staff's diagnosis of Full Blown Crazy, but she didn't care. At least when she was talking to herself she knew there were no animals or inanimate objects involved in the conversation.
She wondered idly how long she'd been in the hospital. Days? More than that. Weeks? Maybe. Months? Not out of the question. She no longer wondered when she would get out.
There was no getting out. Julie knew that. Not for a person as crazy as herself. Anne hadn't even bothered to visit her. Just dumped her there and then returned to her happy, normal life. Probably had a nice long shower to wash the insanity off of her.
It wasn't as though Julie wanted to stay. She had just begun to realize the mental hospital was where she belonged. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to stop seeing impossible things everywhere. She didn't want to talk to the animal people anymore, but they kept talking to her.
"Doesn't mean I have to answer them," she muttered with a shake of her head. She paused, mulling this observation over in her head. Was it as simple as that? Maybe it was worth a shot. Sitting up in bed she announced to the room, "I'm done talking to the animals. They can't make me talk to them."
With a satisfied nod, she lay back down and closed her eyes. Sleep had almost returned when a noise at her window startled her fully awake.
Julie propped herself up on one elbow and turned to the barred window. She didn't know what she was expecting to see... but a giant owl's head was not it. With a resigned sigh, she flopped back down and closed her eyes again.
"Julie! It's me, Anne!"
"I am not interested in talking to you anymore," Julie told the owl. It had really gotten to be too much. She was ready to go home and try to be normal again. "Please go away and don't come back."