My mother was sectioned. Again

So I am going about my life…stirring cups of coffee, people watching on the way to university and writing overly-enthusiastic love notes to people out of my league.

Suddenly, (thanks primary school English teacher), the phone rings.
“It’s urgent!”
I pick up – feeling flawless in my new home. Feeling satisfied and happy, the nurse says “Hello – Is this Stevie?”
“Your mother is staying at a psychiatric hospital after a break down, we have been trying to contact you for days.”
This hasn’t happened before. I look around at my life, just starting to come together, and sigh.

“What about my sisters?”
“Well this is why we have called….we need someone to pick them up. It seems as if your mother has no friends in the immediate area. When can you come?”
Oh shit. I gulp.
No money in the bank for two weeks…had blown it at the weekend getting off my trolley.
No way to catch the train, and no friends in London as my mother had only moved there a few weeks ago.

I try the cold-bitch-on-the-road-to-success approach but I don’t sleep that night.
“I’m sorry, I’m stuck in Essex and I can’t come. You’ll have to take them of them until I can come.”
The voice on the other end is male and foreign. I expect him to offer to pick me up, but instead he agrees quickly – knowing I’ll knock someone’s head off – and hangs up.
A few minutes later – while chain smoking in the rain – am empty feeling comes into my stomach.
I had never wanted this to happen…to turn into the bitch who puts herself first. There have been times in my life when I have put others before me without a thought and, as a result, I have been rewarded.
Is this the point in which my dreams mean more than my family – the girls I used to get through college?…my inspiration?
Luckily a friend of my mothers travels to me the next day. He says I’ll only have to miss two days of university, but it ends up two weeks. He has hygiene issues and plays a mean game of cards.
I eventually rationalize the entire situation by telling myself that it could not have been predicted or avoided…
She is released after two weeks – had been wearing the same outfit the whole time – and needs a shower. I don’t yell at her, as she had a stress related problem.
We have both always been opposed to mental health teams…just watch a documentary on the past of it and you might feel the same way.
Something positive?
I meet a psychiatry student outside on the fifth day – male, young. He smokes roll-ups like me and when I tell him how I hate the entire establishment, he says that he’s studying the profession to change it.
You hear that, kids?
A sane women is sectioned…the end diagnosis is none, it was just for observation.
Best to keep those bizarre and non-conformist thoughts to yourself.

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