From the diary of Jennifer Saunders
It was dark by the time we passed the outskirts of the Greater Manchester area. Great fires burned in the distance and from this I gathered that Manchester must have been a target for one of the bombs. I had tried the radio again a short while ago but it was still broadcasting static. Driving was difficult as the road was now crowded with travelers, although it was not as congested as I had expected. The fugitives from the outskirts of the city and the surrounding countryside were scurrying away like rats and all sorts of cars, buses and other vehicles hurried along, their lights winking and twinkling.
Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at Tom. He was sitting quietly, gazing out of the window. The bright, orange flames reflected in his eyes as he watched vast expanses of suburbia burning. How is he going to adjust to being uprooted from his home and familiar surrounds? And what about his medications?
In addition to the microchip in his brain which helps controls his serotonin levels, Tom takes four pills in the morning and washes them down with a glass of clear fibregel to prevent constipation. The medicine comprises of two booster pills, which are supposed to help with OCD [they don’t seem to do a thing, in my opinion, but it is a truth that he has been on these medications for such a long time, I don’t know how he would be without them], a ditropan, which is a bladder cleanser, and an antihistamine. He checks his pills carefully every day before he will take them. If they look different in any way because they are a generic or a different brand of antihistamine, he will ask me what they are. Once I have answered, he will compose a question that only requires a yes or no answer to get his assurance that the unusual pill is what I have said it is. “Is this oval shaped pill an antihistamine?” is what he will ask. The answer must be “yes”. If I add extra information or explanations it nullifies my answer and he will ask again. The answer has to follow the accepted format. Frequently, the question is followed by a further question – “Do you promise?” Again, my answer must be limited to a yes or no or he will keep asking until I get it right. When he is particularly stressed, usually before tests, examinations or a holiday, he will ask the same questions over and over. OCD doesn’t make any sense. It has no logic. You cannot explain anything or negotiate with an OCD sufferer. He knows that his questions are ridiculous; that is not the point. The point is the overwhelming need for reassurance. If he doesn’t get this reassurance he can’t settle down and can’t sleep. The need is such a huge driving force that if I try to put my foot down [as advised by our medical experts, SIGH!], he will go into hysterics and hold the entire household hostage, effectively, by shouting and crying, until he gets the answers he needs. If he knew he had a microchip in his body to help control his anxiety as well as a microchip, like everyone else, for identification purposes, I think it might push him over the edge into madness.
Fortunately, I have a two month supply of his pills as I bought them a few days before this catastrophe and I always keep an extra month’s supply in case there is ever a shortage. I can’t think further than that at the moment. Not when everything is this precarious. He seems to be calm and collected so maybe he will surprise me and show great strength of character in the face of adversity.
This post was written for Sue Vincent’s weekly write photo challenge. You can join in here: https://scvincent.com/2019/05/09/thursday-photo-prompt-rooted-writephoto/
Young men often surprise us 😉 Let’s hope this turns out well for them in the end…
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Yes, they do surprise us and everything changes over time. Thanks, Sue.
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🙂 x
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Nice story segment. I’m looking forward to the next one. This was my favourite line: The bright, orange flames reflected in his eyes as he watched vast expanses of suburbia burning. (Chilling.)
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Thank you, Priscilla. I had to think about that line for a while to get it right.
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This was a great segment Robbie ❤️
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Thank you, Ritu. At this rate, this whole story will be written via prompts.
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Lol! Some great books have started like that !
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Yes, that is true.
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I am really enjoying this Robbie, do you have experience with OCD. I have a nephew with Ashphgers and OCD and I work with a lot of children on the Autistic scale for years in a children’s home. You have it described perfectly.💜
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I didn’t know that about you, Willow. You must be a very patient person. It is difficult dealing with OCD and PTSD. I know some boys with Aspergers and that is a trial too. Of course, these children are often very intelligent and have a lot to offer the world.
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Yes indeed they do, and girls too. You just need to know how to handle them. They all have amazing gifts and talents and see the world in a completely different was to us. 💜💖
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The OCD I know, only too well. There are times I see it play out in my life and other times I live quite free of the stress
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I am sorry, Annette. OCD is difficult to live with and very all consuming. Hugs.
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This held me Roberta. Brealky good
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Thank you, Lorraine.
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A wonderful write that points out things about OCD that many people – including myself – underappreciate. That long paragraph was wonderfully styled to show it.
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Thank you for your comment. I wasn’t sure if this detail would interest readers so I appreciate your thoughts.
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No problem!
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powerful writing and a great education tool to put this info into such a gripping story!
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Thank you for saying that, Kate. I wasn’t sure if the psychological aspects of this story would appeal to readers.
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definitely hooks us in, you are writing from your heart Robbie and that glows/shows ❤
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Thank you
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Being uprooted with out challenges is horrid. One summer I went away as a Mother’s helper, wasn’t even allowed to go home on the weekends. When I finally was picked up to go ‘home’ my parents had moved from our apartment to a house. I’m not certain what benefits they saw as they both ended up working overtime to pay bills that they were hardly seen. And unavailable for transportation which in the new location was non-existent if one didn’t have a car.
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I suppose they did their best to give their children a good life. What we think will be better doesn’t always turn out to be better. Quite tough for you.
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And it only took me about fifty years to get that point across to a sibling….
I survived – I am happy now 🙂
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It’s hard to place ourselves in the context of how someone else copes with the world, but you always do a great job of it. I am hoping for the best for this family…(K)
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Thank you, Kerfe. You are right, we all find our own coping mechanisms in life.
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