Bizaare Post Script

Dad and I, posing at the garden next to the house. He is my hero!


While mum and Lea were away I refrained from calling them on the phone until I couldn't wait any longer to learn what was going on. After dad's siesta I joined him (it turned out the person I saw entering his room was not Benny but a nurse who wanted to know if dad would mind sharing the room with a new guest at the facility). We took our books out to the patio and read them in a strange and new ritual - my choice for dad's book is a hit: he loves it, and I am delighted! Then I thought I'd take his (or thanks to the wonder of the 10 secs delay function, our) picture, depicting dad's new state of fitness, from being at death's door to on his feet, in every sense. But not before we had spoken to Lea and were told that the place they went was indeed very nice, every bit as described to us, even better, and that mum had been of top behaviour, quite herself, inexplicably. She was seen by two doctors, both charming, and she could not totally hide her symptoms from them. Anyway, they both agreed there was no need for her to stay there at all, she was perscribed a different drug from the one Prof A. and the house doctor gave her, she is to take it nightly before bed, cut into half for that is all she would need, subject to review. They were on their way back in a taxi that was kindly ordered for them, and could we secure a place at the table for mum, so she can have dinner with dad at the support clinic. She would later retire to the flat, and Lea would see in person that she takes her half tab, mum has given her word there would be no further trouble on the subject. We were puzzled, but really very happy at the news, and I went to do as Lea asked at once - no, there would be no problem letting mum eat there with dad.
Soon enough, and before 6:00pm even, the two ladies were back. All eyes were on mum - what sort of behaviour were we going to see? We, the clinic staff and other residents were stunned by that woman. Is she a good actress, or is it for real? Not having taken any medication of any type yet she displayed exemplary self restraint, she was sweet to me, nice to the nurses, gave dad a big hug and kisses, didn't even comment, let alone fly into a rage at seeing him out and about without his cane at all. It was as though one woman went off to the psychiatric clinic and another one returned! Lea was soon off to get the perscription and a pill caddy so no mistake may occur, mum sat with dad for dinner (at 6:30) and ate heartily (she was careful to bitch about the food later on, so we'd know they did send the same woman back). We then repaired to dad's room, and before long it was full with Lea's entire family, Benny and I. The room was as lively and noisy as it's ever been, only this time with laughter. Too good to be true? No drugs of any sort were administered to her, not till before her bedtime.
To round off the evening some of us went away, while Lea, Adi, mum and I went up to the flat for some coffee and cake, freshly bought from the house lobby (a Thursday evening tradition here). Lea wanted mum to take a shower as quickly as possible, get generally ready for bed, because she must be tired by now, after such two harrowing days. It seemed to me mum was starting to retreat into the old style again, dragging her feet over taking the pill, assuring Lea she could go home, and I could make sure she took it, jumping from one subject to another - now she wants to find a house coat she thinks may have been taken. Adi and I exchange glances. Lea is getting impatient, but it must not show. Finally, and with hardly any further ado, mum takes her med, and Lea and Adi can take their leave. The drug starts showing effect only after a few days of regular use, but I feel cautiously optimistic tonight. Mum is here in her own home, she was positive and pleasant all evening, dare I raise my hopes?