Day Treatment, day 1

I checked Martha in at the day-treatment center in Dallas this morning, signed all the paperwork and went through all the procedures, etcetera etcetera. Basically it's structured like a big, ginormous TIME OUT where they're lifted from their normal routine and given a new routine with a specific structure that must be adhered to. They receive points for completing required tasks, which determines what "level" they get to be on, which determines what privileges they get to enjoy. All this as the herd of psychiatrists observe her in action, counsel with her, listen to me and my concerns and give me a framework in which to live with her, change her meds accordingly, and whatever else.

I finished with all the initial paperwork by about noon and had three hours to kill. I went someplace quiet and read a book (Duma Key by Stephen King, if you must know). It was so cold I just couldn't bear to try to run around and shop.

I know, my dear friends from Iowa and Minnesota... it's practically shorts weather in Texas compared to what y'all are suffering through... but I think that the seventy pounds I've lost since July were what my body was using for insulation because I am now a walking popsicle. If I'm not wearing longhandle underwear under my clothes, I'm chattering like a set of wind-up teeth. When I'm home, it's worse, because we don't have central heat. I have to wear longhandles under my pajamas and I sleep under about six heavy layers of quilts and afghans, and if I stick my head out from under the covers, I can see my breath.

You think I kid. I do not.

The Purple Fish Guts family is planning a visit to our home in a week. RedFish says they're bringing their sleeping bags... I hope they're equipped with Thinsulate or Polartec or something...