Long Winter

Sitting in her worn out gray recliner chair in the small living room of her condo Winter yelled into the phone receiver while stroking her cat “I just can’t take this anymore. I hate my job and... I’m so lonely here.”

Suddenly there was a knock at the back door “Who is it” Winter yelled while turning around to face the door as tears cascaded down her cheeks and onto her cat Max.

A voice on the other side of the door thundered back “It’s the police, open up.” She thought why are the police are here as the tears continued to flow.

Then, the voice on the other end of the phone chimed in “I was worried, so I had Clarice call them on the cell.”

Winter shot back, “You did what?” Suddenly Winter turned around quickly to face the door as the police once again pounded heavily on the door. She slammed down the phone, grabbed a Kleenex to wipe her nose as she slowly walked to the door.

With flashlights in her face, Winter shielded her eyes from the glare while asking the police what they wanted. “Winter, we have reason to believe you are not safe.” “Please come with us,” a burly voice said. Winter was exhausted from crying so she turned around and went to her bedroom to put her clothes on. A short, stocky, Caucasian woman cop with a brown haired ponytail down her back and muscular figures stood watch over Winter as she dressed. 

Feeling awkward Winter said, “Why are six of you guys here anyway?” As she waved her hand in a dismissive manner, “I have not done anything.” 

The female cop’s heavy voice growled, “We just want to make sure you get help.”

The ride in the cold interior of the squad car and the dirty smell overtook Winter as she thought back to the moments before calling her brother Brad. She had been feeling sad and alone, her parents who were strict catholic parents had passed away and Brad was the only family she stayed in contact with regularly. Her friends were few; they kept in touch via email.

Then Winter’s thoughts raced to how Brad betrayed her by calling the police to come to her home. She thought that bastard turned her in for being honest, how could she ever forgive him for causing this turmoil in her life.” Winter continued to cry as the cops took her to the local hospital for a psychiatric evaluation.

Winter was in a room without doors with a curtain for privacy. The room was well- lit with pictures of black and white flowers on the left wall; she sat in the bed clinching the medical gown that did not keep out the drafty air as hospital personal quizzed her repeatedly to determine her state of mind. After a few hours of answering the same questions she was exhausted. Winter asked wearily “When are you going to let me go home? I have to feed my cat Max”.

The psychiatric doctor looked down at her with a concerned expression and said, “I’m afraid we will have to keep you in the hospital for awhile, is there someone else who can look after your cat?” Winter’s eyes began to tear as she worried who would take care of her beloved cat.

After coordinating with your primary doctor we have decided you would benefit from some time in the hospital mental ward to figure the best treatment for you” said the psychiatrist.  Winter had a friend from her church take care of Max as she stayed in the hospital for five days for treatment of bipolar disorder.

At age fifty-nine Winter did not know she was bipolar. She knew that throughout her life there would be cycles of sleeping too much and then not sleeping for days. She also would have quick mood swings but thought it just part of her personality. She ran away from home three times as a teen-ager. Her parents did not understand her, she was a rebellious spirit.  While in the hospital Winter did not sleep much. She would snap at other people in the ward and personnel over the slightest thing, then be so nice a minute later. Once she yelled get away from me to a person she befriended, because she was tired. The staff kept a close eye on Winter as her moods moved like the winter breeze in the Midwest afternoon.

She returned home under supervision from a good friend and a prescription used to manage her moods. She still held contempt toward her brother Brad for the torture she endured and was hell bent on never talking to him again. As Winter adjusted to the effects of the medications she wondered how she could ever forgive Brad for betraying her trust. Brad had called her several times after her return and Winter refused to answer the phone each time.

After about a month Winter was adjusting to the effects of the medication and was working her way back to everyday life duties when she answered a call from her brother Brad.  Winter talked to her therapist and realized that Brad really was not trying to hurt her.

Brad told Winter how he loved her and wanted to make sure she was safe.

Winter cried as she answered him “Yes I know you love me.” That night both of them had a heartfelt conversation about love and life. Winter turned  hatred to love as she listened to her brother talk about how he would stay in contact to make sure she was doing fine and how she should call him whenever she was feeling down and he would help her through it. It was on that phone conversation that Winter realized she could hold her head high again and call her brother Brad not an enemy but instead one of her best friends.