She had such a great day, surrounded by all but one of her nieces and nephews and many friends and family from far and wide. Some came down from Roma just for the day to be with her. I loved that whenever I saw her, she was happily engaged in conversation with someone, she always had a drink in her hand, and she was utterly exhausted at the end of the day - "I had such a good time!" she said to me.
In the days just before the party, that became my sole reason for doing everything I did. I wanted it to be the best day for her that I could arrange. I was looking forward to catching up with some favourite rellies, but what mattered most was Mama's happiness. That we achieved that was great.
By the time the day itself rolled around, I was so exhausted I could barely move. I had cooked and prepared and decorated for three days solidly before the Thursday. I stayed the night with her on the Wednesday night, hoping for an early start. I stayed up until 3am putting potato and bacon onto toothpicks, and doing a myriad of other things - stacking plates and napkins, counting cups, etc.
Mama woke me at 5am.
My valiant and marvellous helpers, Annie and Karen, arrived at 8am, and did not stop working until well after 3pm. I simply do not know what I would have done without them. They made sandwiches out of 20 loaves of bread - all of which were eaten, and then proceeded to plate up all of the finger food I had made. Barb and Mumma G arrived and helped to make up dozens of fruit and Italian toothpicks for the vegetarians. A small army of people was making my party happen, and I plunged into the preparations with renewed vigor.
Catherine arrived with her batch of food, and they took that over as well. An efficient conveyor of food in and out of microwaves and ovens and onto platters ensured that the food was piping hot and delivered around the guests by my niece and nephews. They worked so hard!
I did have time to stop and talk with friends after the speeches. I really enjoyed that period... except for when cousin Kathleen managed to pipe in that she didn't like my dress "at all - it doesn't suit you in the least" - in a very loud voice which was heard by several people. Needless to say, I was completely shattered after that. I had been so excited to find a real party dress - something that I had never ever bought before - and to be able to wear it for my Mama. Cate said she liked it, Barb loved it... the girls in the kitchen and Mumma G commented how nice it looked. But that one comment helped to start the next downward spiral.
After a couple of days of helping Mama at home, putting everything back to rights at her end - my end was still a disaster area - I discovered that I had absolutely no interest in doing anything at all, including getting out of bed, eating, ironing, sleeping for up to 14 hrs at a time, or staying awake for the same period, or speaking to anyone. This continued for a week, after which time we agreed that I should phone Dr Brad. He was very concerned, and made some changes to my drug regime - but did not change any of the drugs themselves.
Another three weeks followed, and I had slid backwards even further. I was no longer interested in life, and was sliding back into a major depressive episode. Went back to Brad, who immediately changed the anti-depressants and introduced another sedative to induce better sleep.
I am due to see him next week... I have evened out, but I can feel emotions being reined in by the drugs. Now, as a long term taker of such medications, I can tell the difference when the drugs are doing their work.
..............................
This week I've been very saddened about the death of Peter Roebuck, one of the ABC's cricket commentary team. Peter committed suicide by jumping out of a hotel window in Johannesburg. He was about to be arrested and charged with the alleged sexual assault of a young Zimbabwean man.
Anyone who knows my story knows that I attempted suicide in my first year of treatment in 1997. I was in a horrible place mentally at the time. I had been having amnestic episodes every week for six months, and they showed no signs of diminishing. No-one knew why I was having them, and couldn't seem to stop them. I was losing days at a time. I couldn't work. I took an overdose of Serepax - 28 pills in fact. I woke up in the Royal Brisbane, and had to drink down two cups of charcoal. I remember how devastated I was when I realised that I had failed in my attempt - the despair was raw and ugly and bloody.
Peter Roebuck had always behaved with the utmost decency. He came across as the quintessential English gentleman. His respect for his fellow commentators, no matter how many times they teased him, remained in tact. He was well known for his philanthropy, sponsoring a number of children in Pietermaritzburg for their education right through to university.
I can only assume that he must have been in or near that very dark place where I had been... where there is no light... where time is suspended, but racing along at the same speed... where desperation and need for relief drive your every thought and word.
I felt the utmost despair for him... knowing where he had been... how frightened he must have felt. With fellow commentators right beside him - Jim Maxwell had been with him only moments before - he still chose the most desperate route of escape from some horror which he felt must have awaited him.
For one who had set the bar so high for himself, whatever was the crux of that allegation must have sounded a death knell for him. Otherwise, I cannot believe how he would have otherwise decided to take his own life.
Vale Peter Roebuck.
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