Another Night, Another Day (33 page)

Leona leans forward. ‘Michael, do you remember when we met before, and I asked if you could describe your mood? You drew that line, yes?’

Michael nods.

‘You told me you couldn’t see what medication could do for you, and you didn’t want levelling off as you were flat already.’

‘Mm.’

‘I’d like you to give it a shot, Michael. No one wants to take tablets. Believe me, I know. I see people like you – some better, some worse, some about the same – a
lot.’

No one’s like me, thinks Michael. They couldn’t possibly be. Being in my mind is like existing in a hell on earth. I’m only here because of some damn dog.

‘It’s my job to try and help you. A lot of folks
hate
the idea of pills, just like you. However, when you get sick, sometimes you require treatment to get better. At the
moment, you’re like someone who’s had a heart attack, but who’s refusing to allow anyone to give you the kiss of life.’

Her expression is serious, but Michael can’t grasp what she’s trying to say.

She continues, ‘You’ve been feeling down for months and months, and managing without medication, I know. But you got to the point where you attempted to end your own life.
Isn’t it worth giving antidepressants a go?’

‘You want to turn me into a zombie . . .’ he mutters.

Leona shakes her head. ‘That’s the last thing we want. At the end of the day, it’s your choice. And it’s only a trial – if you try them and you don’t like
them, you can stop.’

There’s a low cough from Chrissie. ‘Is it because you’re too proud, love?’ she ventures. ‘Maybe think of them like blood pressure tablets, something like that. I
don’t think you’d refuse them, if doctors said you needed them. There’s no shame in taking medicine.’

Michael’s head is hurting; he can’t argue any more. ‘OK,’ he relents. ‘I’ll take your bloody pills.’

‘Darling, thank you!’ says Chrissie, and bends to kiss him. Michael is aware he used to like being kissed, but now it does nothing for him.

Leona nods. ‘It’s a good idea, trust me. One day you’ll feel much better than you do today, I truly believe that, though I know you can’t imagine it. The antidepressants
will take a few weeks to work, but I’m very hopeful they’re the best way forward.’

‘Hurry up and get them so I can go back to sleep,’ he says.

Leona raises an eyebrow. ‘Great. I’ll sort your prescription.’

Once she’s gone Chrissie slips into the chair. ‘The kids have come back home, Mickey, and we really want to help.’

‘Ryan and Kelly . . . ?’ He closes his eyes to shut out the guilt.

‘Yes, they came to see you earlier, but you were dozing. They’re so relieved you’re all right . . . They both break up soon anyway, so it made sense for them to finish uni a
bit early, and it’ll be nice to have them around, won’t it?’ She strokes his arm. ‘We’re going to get through this. Truly we are.’

‘Mm.’

It’ll take weeks for the medication to work, Leona said, yet Michael has been dragging himself through the most miserable, endless wasteland for months and months already. It’s as if
in the distance, across a strait of water, he saw the promising glimmer of a different land, and just for a while, when he ventured into the sea, he thought he’d finally be able to reach that
better place. But he’s arrived at the other side, and found it’s merely another miserable, endless wasteland. And now his whole family is involved. How can he explain that he
doesn’t think he can go through this any longer?

* * *

Gradually, as Karen clutches Abby’s hand, she feels her friend calm down and the jigging of her legs subside. The two women are still sitting this way when Gillian comes
into the lounge.

Normally Karen finds it hard to read what Gillian is thinking – the tight bun and half-moon glasses lend her an impenetrable air – yet today her face is taut with anguish. A few
paces behind Gillian is Johnnie, but the spring in his step and the broad smile have gone, and as he reaches for one of the chairs, he glances at the newspaper on the table and Karen sees the pain
in his eyes. Despite her own shock and upset, she empathizes. To be expected to take responsibility for other people – many of whom are in a precarious mental state already – must be
ghastly.

Gillian moves a chair to the end of the room by the whiteboard, drops down into it and closes her eyes. It seems the therapist is bracing herself, but she stays like that such a long while,
breathing in and out, that Karen begins to grow concerned she may be too upset to lead the session. Eventually Gillian lifts her head and looks around at them in turn.

‘So, I expect you have heard the very sad news about Lillie.’

There’s a universal acknowledgement that yes, they have.

‘I’ve come to let you each know that, as best we can, the staff here will do everything in our power to support you through this. We appreciate this is a big shock for many of you,
as it is for us. Many of you knew Lillie well and I believe considered her your friend—’ there’s a wail of grief from Colin, ‘ – and were deeply fond of
her.’

Gillian’s lip quivers and she pauses. Karen gives Abby’s hand a squeeze; Abby squeezes back.

‘In a while I’m going to hand over to Johnnie and there will be space to share your feelings in the group about what’s happened, but first I thought we could start today by
remembering Lillie with a few minutes’ silence, if you’re all agreed?’

They nod assent, and Tash’s yelping diminishes to an occasional whimper, then stops. And as they sit there in a silence broken only by the
tick tick tick
of the clock on the wall,
Karen is thrust back to another moment, on another Monday morning, more than two years earlier. Then, as now, she was left reeling, unable to comprehend what’s happened, or why, or where she
should go from here.

* * *

‘Friend’, thinks Abby. The last time I saw her, Lillie called me her
friend
. And to think I so nearly asked for her number, but thought she must get pissed
off with people hounding her. I should have taken that word for what it signified and pushed for her address or email –
something
. I could have been a shoulder for her to lean on, I
could have said I understood, and if she’d told me she’d been skipping her meds, I could have encouraged her to keep taking them . . . Even a text might have helped.

Instead my own difficulties took precedence, and now it’s too late.

Perhaps I’m kidding myself, she thinks. Even if I had called, who’s to say Lillie would have answered, or confessed how she was feeling? Evidently she didn’t tell her sister or
Gillian or Colin or anyone else how desperate she was, and she was much closer to them.

Still, she reasons, shouldn’t those of us who’ve experienced similar lows look out for each other? All of us in this room let Lillie down to some degree; we failed one of our own.
Only three days ago she and I were due to overlap in day care. I considered asking staff if she was OK when she didn’t turn up on Friday – but I thought they wouldn’t tell me. How
precarious her situation was. If only I – we – had been aware of just how bad things were, perhaps she would be sitting in this room today.

After a while, Leona returns to Michael’s bedside.

‘Success.’ She brandishes a white paper bag. ‘I also managed to discuss your situation with the psychiatrist, Dr Kasdan.’

‘I thought he worked at Moreland’s . . .’ Michael is perplexed.

‘He does. But he’s a consultant and works three days there and two days here. Luckily he’s in this afternoon, which was helpful, as he remembers you.’

‘That’s good,’ says Chrissie. ‘I’d been worried all this inconsistency in staff wasn’t helping.’

‘We do try,’ says Leona.

‘Oh, er . . . I didn’t mean you, love . . .’

‘No offence taken.’ Leona turns to Michael. ‘Dr Kasdan and I agreed it would be good to start you on these. It’s a common antidepressant which a lot of patients react
well to.’ She opens the paper bag, removes a box and lays it on the bedcover.

‘What about side effects?’ he asks.

‘I’d prefer you not to get too caught up in those. It’s easy to obsess when you’re in a vulnerable state. They’re detailed in the leaflet inside the
pack.’

‘You’re scared I’ll change my mind.’

Leona looks squarely at him. ‘Yeah, I suppose I am. You’ve been on quite a journey, from what I’ve witnessed, my friend – and it’s not even a fortnight since we
met. It depends how you see it, right? You’re thinking,
Leona’s not telling me about side effects as they’re so awful
.’

‘Er—’

‘Whereas I’m thinking,
I don’t want to focus on the negatives, as I believe these bad boys
—’ Leona taps the box, ‘ –
could help this
man.
Not on their own, as I’ve said before, but alongside a programme of exercise and guidance in managing depression and with the support of his family.’

‘Ah.’ He just about gets what she’s driving at.

‘For some strange reason, I don’t want you bumping yourself off. And nor, I suspect, does your wife here. I reckon she’d be mighty sorry to lose you, too.’

Chrissie gives a half-smile.

‘But my worry about you, Michael, is you’re on the edge. You quit the tablets before they have any effect, and who’s to say you won’t take a walk back into that lovely
warm ocean out there you find so inviting?’ She flings an arm in the direction of a nearby window. ‘Yet I
know
that we can get you through this. I’d like to see you make
the most of this programme – I reckon you could get stuff from it.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It seems you and I share a trait,’ continues Leona. ‘We tell it like it is. So, you can get yourself in a right palaver about side effects if you want. Or you can go with my
advice.’ She glances at Chrissie, then back at Michael. ‘Which is it to be?’

‘You said they take weeks to work—’

Leona holds up a hand. ‘I know it feels an eternity when you’re in a bad place. Nothing lasts forever and the pain you’re in
will
pass. But I understand you
can’t ignore it just now, so I’ve a suggestion I hope will make that time less excruciating for you.’

‘You going to remove my head?’

Leona guffaws. Her laugh is like she is – an unrestrained hoot. She shakes her head at Chrissie. ‘Like it. We’ll pop it in the freezer. But seriously, thought we’d try
these in the interim.’ She removes a second box from the bag. ‘Diazepam – commonly known as Valium. Addictive, so not a long-term solution, but they should help you relax and
sleep while we wait for the antidepressants to take effect.’

Michael eyes the two packets. ‘I can’t believe those are going to sort me out on their own.’

‘They’re not.’ Leona’s dark eyes flash. ‘You do any therapy in Moreland’s?’

‘Yes . . .’ says Michael. Not that he can remember much of it.

‘Well, the other thing we’re going to do – you and me, but mainly you – is work on changing what goes on in here.’ She taps the side of her head. ‘Did you
talk about that?’

‘Yeah, kind of . . .’

‘Great. So, here’s how I reckon you see where you are at the moment:
I’m on another planet, and no one understands what I’m going through.
Is that more or less
right?’

Michael can’t help but nod.

‘Whereas actually, truth is, they do.
I
do. OK, so I don’t get every nuance and horrible thought, but I get the gist. You don’t think I do, because your only reference
point is yourself. Tell me, is this the first big depression you’ve had?’

Michael struggles to work it out. It’s hard to remember, but he can’t recall feeling this bad in the past. Certainly he’s not tried to kill himself before. He’d not
forget that.

‘It seems to me it is,’ interrupts Chrissie. ‘We’ve been together for years and I’ve never seen him like this till recently.’ She looks at Michael.
‘It’s ever since your business went under, isn’t it, love?’

Mention of his bankruptcy makes Michael want to hurl back the bedcovers, jump out of bed and run away.

‘Figures,’ says Leona. ‘Can’t tell you how often I see people – not being sexist here, but it tends to be fellas, quite often older men too – whose
self-esteem is so bound up with their work that when the job goes – BOOM – so does their self-esteem.’

‘Really?’ says Chrissie. ‘I find that kind of comforting.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Leona jerks her head towards Michael. ‘We’ve just got to help our Michael here see that.’ She gives him a wink. ‘I know it’s a lot to take
in. And it’s even worse if you’ve never felt this way before, because the shock of the descent into depression is so traumatic. You are in a dark, dark land—’

That’s right, thinks Michael. That’s exactly where I am. Hell on earth.

‘ – with a population of millions.’

Really? wonders Michael. I thought there was no one here but me.

‘I doubt if you’ll believe me, but others
have
been where you are right now, and they’ve got out the other side,’ Leona continues, ‘a few of them with my
help. I’d like to try and show you the way forward. Though I can’t do it on my own, so you’ll have to at least
try
to trust me.’

Michael is suspicious. The idea that someone – anyone – might lead him through the wilderness is hard to believe. After all, he’s been wandering for months, and he’s met
other people – some of whom have endeavoured to guide him – yet he’s still lost.

‘It’s up to you how you choose to react to what I’m saying to you. You can tell yourself the next few weeks are going to be just as dire as the last
however-long-it’s-been. Or, instead of that, you could begin to consider the possibility you
might
have been through the worst.’

‘Ri-ight . . .’ Michael’s brain is hurting again.

‘Which means that from here on – although sometimes you’ll go one step forward, two steps back – you’ll gradually get better.’

‘Ah.’

‘You should listen to Leona, Mickey,’ ventures Chrissie.

Once again Michael recalls Gillian’s words.
It’s just a thought, and thoughts can be changed . . .
But this time, instead of silencing her voice, he takes heed, and, if only
for a few moments, gleans comfort. It’s as though he’s glimpsed a tiny, tiny spark of hope after it’s been totally eclipsed for months on end, and something has shifted.