My brother called tonight. When I asked him what was new, he said that he had been in hospital again.
He told me it felt like he was having seizures in his brain, so he admitted himself to St. Joseph’s. Now, he is being treated as an outpatient, and takes medication twice a day.
It is helping. He is calmer, clearer. He doesn’t shout when he speaks, and he responds when spoken to. At moments, he sounds like my brother.
This is how it was after the first break, when Phil and I went home for Christmas. He seemed well, even joking a little, and I thought everything would be okay.
It wasn’t, of course. He stopped taking his medication and was insane for three years. While he was gone, my father left, and then Phil did too. Our family disintegrated as he stalked his city, insensible and alone.
I am afraid to hope for this, or for anything at all.