A Love Story

At the beginning of every class, we are given a topic and ten minutes to write about it.  During my last class, we were each given a different quote to write on.  My quote was "The heart has reasons that reason does not understand."  What I have posted is straight from the heart and is not edited, so please be forgiving =)


A young couple, Samantha and Jonathan, met shortly before he was to graduate from college.  He had obtained a job that would require a move to Richmond, Virginia.  They both lived in Kentucky at the time. 

They were passionate about each other and it was unreasonable to think they could carry on their relationship once he made his move.  They swore to each other that they could make their relationship work even though 900 miles would separate them.  It wasn't possbile for Samantha to follow him because she had one more year of college to finish. 

The phone bills were outrageous, but they couldn't go an evening without speaking to each other.  Hearing his voice made Samantha's heart ache every night.  Logic told her this wasn't going to work with the long distance between them. 

Jonathan would make it a point to travel to Kentucky to visit Samantha every six weeks for a weekend.  Samantha would count the days until she would see him.  After his visits, she felt as if their relationship was refreshed and she was ready to charge on. 

As time wore on, thier relationship grew stronger.  Jonathan continuously asked if she would move to Virginia when she graduated.  As much as her heart wanted her to say yes, she would say, "We'll have to wait and wee."  Deep down she wanted to say " Yes I'll come" but.....MY TEN MINUTES IS UP!

Catherine

This is a different kind of story.  My Walkerton assignment for the month of May was to pick a topic in the news and write about it from the point of view of two people involved with it.  I chose to write about Catherine Zeta Jones.  She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder which as many of you know is a topic near and dear to my heart.  Enjoy!

Catherine

Michael and I have been riding around for what seems to have been hours.  It is April 13, 2011 and it is one of the most defining days of my life.  We flew into Connecticut early this morning and were met by a driver.  He is taking us to Silver Hill Hospital which is a psychiatric hospital.  As we enter the driveway to the hospital, the only sound I can hear is the tires of the car crunching over the gravel.  I feel scared, yet I feel safe with Michael’s arm wrapped around me.  He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry darling, everything is going to be fine.” 

How does one prepare herself for a stay such as the one I am getting ready to embark on?  For the past year I have taken care of Michael.  He had stage four throat cancer and had taken on a grueling treatment of radiation and chemotherapy.  Even though we have live-in help, I still felt responsible for running the house.  We told the children about their dad’s illness.  After months of chemotherapy and radiation, his doctor pronounced him cancer free in January.  I was ecstatic, but I couldn’t get myself out of this deep puddle of gloom. 

Things are crumbling down around me.  I am chain smoking and drinking heavily.  The more I drink the easier it is to cope with the problems life hands down.  I cannot say how many sleepless nights I have endured.  For years, I have suffered through bouts of depression.  My moods have gone up and down and right now the depression I am feeling is unbearable.  Thoughts of suicide come and go and that is the reason I am seeking help.

 

When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted by a receptionist.  The driver brought my bags in and an orderly brought them to my room.  Michael asked, “Are you sure you are ready for this?”   As upset as I felt, I replied, “It is hard to say goodbye, but I am ready to get to the bottom of this and move on.”  As he said good bye, he told me I was a courageous woman and then he kissed and hugged me.  He gave me reassurance that he would be there for me.

A nurse escorted me to my room and told me I would have to undergo a body check and my belongings would be examined.  I thought, “How dare she do this to me – how violating?” The purpose being to make sure I didn’t have anything that could be used to harm myself.  She told me to change into a hospital gown so that she could inspect my body for scars and any marks revealing physical abuse.  I don’t care who you are, where you are, or what the reason is, there is nothing more degrading than stripping down and being examined.  The nurse, as nice as she could be, quickly completed the exam. It was a horrible experience.  

She then went through my bags and pulled out all of my belongings.  I asked, “What are you doing?”  She softly said, “I have to look for anything you can use to hurt yourself.” I had packed comfortable clothing which she looked at piece by piece.  She had to take one pair of my sweat pants because of the drawstring in the waist.  We looked through my toiletries bag.  There was a compact with a mirror and it was taken.  I also had to give her my spiral bound journal because of the wire.  All of these things were taken for my protection.  Once she finished, she left me alone to unpack and get settled in.

 

I met my doctor later in the afternoon.  We discussed my depression and the meds my doctor at home had prescribed for me.  I admitted I did not take them on a regular basis as I should.    The stress I had been under triggered the depression I am experiencing.  I told him it was imperative that we get the meds straight because I had to get ready to start working on two films in the upcoming year. 

After a couple of days of observation, his official diagnosis was bipolar disorder II.  My initial response was “Oh my God, I am crazy”.  He explained it is a disorder in which the brain chemistry is off balance and a person’s mood is affected.  With bipolar II there is a marked period of hypomania with long spells of depression in between.  It made total sense to me and it explained exactly the way I had been feeling.  The new medication I was taking, along with psychotherapy helped bring my mood up.

There was a dayroom in which the patients gathered.  Group therapy sessions took place in this room.  There were books, games, magazines, and several chairs and couches.  This is the place where patients were encouraged to spend most of their time.  Talking to other patients and listening to their experiences was just as therapeutic as having a session with a counselor leading it. 

I ate my meals with the other patients.  We jogged on some trails outside the hospital and I played cards with them at night before going to bed.  I spent five days at Silver Hills and am glad I made the decision to come.  The night before I left, I thanked the staff for the kindness they showed and said my good-byes to the other patients. 

A driver was there early the next morning to pick me up.  Michael stood there with open arms waiting for me.  For the first time in a long time, I smiled.  I felt so much better and was ready to face my life head-on.

     

Michael

It has been a stressful year for Catherine.  I was diagnosed with stage four throat cancer in June, 2010.  My son, Cameron, had been sentenced to jail for dealing drugs.  We were also being sued by my ex-wife, Diandra, for a share in any of the profits gained from my latest film.  Catherine’s moods have gone up and down.  She has been smoking and drinking heavily which is uncharacteristic for her.  We decided she should get some professional help and we turned to the Sunny Hill Hospital in Connecticut.  During our drive to the hospital, I put my arm around her as she quietly sobbed.  Feeling helpless, the only comfort I could give her was to tell her I loved her and we were going to be this straightened out.

Upon arrival she became more visibly upset.  I tried to console her by telling her we were in the right place and she would be getting the help she needed.  The driver brought her bags into the hospital and I stayed with Catherine until she was admitted.  When she was settled in we said our goodbyes and I returned to Manhattan for the week. 

Her doctor immediately put her on lithium, a mood stabilizing drug, which seemed to bring her back to herself.  He also gave her Wellbutrin, an antidepressant, to bring her out of the depression.  He diagnosed her with bipolar II disorder.  This would explain her behavior over the last year or so.  A person who has this disorder will become manic for a short time and then dip down into a depression for a longer period of time before going back up.  The medications are meant to keep a person on an even keel. 

This diagnosis would explain her behavior at the Tony’s Awards last June.  In Catherine’s excitement about being nominated for the award, she almost floated around the house with so much energy.  Her speech was very rapid and she would go off on different tangents when speaking.  Before the award’s program began, she talked to so many people on the red carpet.    I stayed by her side and I noticed that she would talk to one person and before they would even respond, she was on to the next person.  I even heard one person comment “Is she high or something?”

When her name was called for being the winner of the category in which she was nominated for, she darted around, trying to pull me up on the stage with her.  During her speech, she rambled on and spoke very quickly and her eyes darted back and forth.  This was not the Catherine I knew – my Catherine was very poised and elegant.  My Catherine always carried herself with sophistication and grace.  In her speech, she commented that she was married to a movie star and she gets to sleep with him every night.  I smiled and applauded her with the rest of the audience, but felt embarrassed for her.  Later on, she couldn’t believe she had been so “crass”.

In an attempt to keep Catherine’s hospitalization private, we registered her under the name of Terrie Kirny.  When a person is in the public eye, it is nearly impossible to keep your life private and it didn’t take long for the National Enquirer to get wind of our situation.  This is why I spoke to the press.  Most people look down on anyone with a mental illness.  I hope by taking her illness public that it will help society to have a sense of awareness and acceptance.

When I arrived to take Catherine home at the end of a week’s stay, she looked refreshed and calm.  I was so happy to see the woman I love looking healthy and like her old self.  This is a condition we will have to monitor for the rest of her life.  Bipolar disorder affects six million people in the U.S.  It is an illness that is treatable – just like diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart disease.  We hope that by Catherine going public with her illness will help bring awareness to it.