March 7 – 88 – 12 (Part 3; Conclusion)

12 and beyond

This is the scariest part to think about, and the scariest part to write.

When I get to Francine’s, I am immediately put into a 14-day Quarantine in her finished basement, which, heretofore had been use for storage. She and her daughter Christina had turned it into Tom’s Mancave, complete with Tom’s Corral, a bed area with old-timey horses.

Very comfortable.

After 12 days it became obvious that I did not have the virus (I had spent 88 days inside, after all). The only reason we did the Quarantine was just in case of the theoretical possibility that JJH and I had “caught” virus in the transfer.

The first two days were Hellish; even though I was away from immediate danger, the thing about the mind is it is slow to tell you that. I was close to the “s” word, but I had no plans or ideations, just passive thoughts.

Quarantine in many ways was a blast. Maybe not a blast, so much as I felt safe and cared for. Many times over the course of the 12 days I thought the best thing would be to be hospitalized, but there was no hospital where I would get great food, a great view, and my medicine.

As I write this, I would definitely say I am better than five weeks ago, but I have residual Death Anxiety, and fairly severe Depersonalization and Derealization. Simply stated, most everything seems like a dream, even my sense of Self. I’ve had this before, and it has always resolved; sometimes in a few weeks, sometimes in a few months, other times in a few years. My longest episode was four years, from 1992-1996, when I could not work and was on Disability.

That is was I am terrified of now.

Though, unlike then, I am able to work.

Medicine (Paxil, Ativan, and Abilify) are, in theory, supposed to work, but they take forever (4-8 weeks).

And the COVID Pandemic has not helped either-everything is fairly surreal as it is, and it’s rare to see people in person, anyway. Maybe I should have come out to NJ earlier, but the truth is Francine is also taking care of her Mother, so it always would have been a logistical challenge.

I am doing my best to deal with my Depersonalization/ Derealization. Reading is touch-and-go, though I am doing as much of it as I can. I walk Coco at least once a day, and try to do simple errands around the house, though I do feel like I am re-learning how to do things. Weirdly enough, I do have some agoraphobia, and my existence in space seems weird. I hope to fix that by taking long walks, and, eventually, riding my bike.

Each time my Breakdowns have happened, I have recovered. What I am most terrified of is that this is a Relapse of 1992. That wasn’t fun.

But I can’t believe my book is over.

Lincoln Park, July 2, 2020