Cait traveled incognito through the wormholes of her unpredictable existence. On days like these, she could soar like an eagle, cleaning house from top to bottom, with enough time left over to write the great American novel. While her family slept through the night, Cait burned the midnight oil. The fruits of her labor were often nonsensical blue prints for a house expansion or musical notes to a new hit. Cait was neither an architect nor a musician, but in the magical twilight of her disease, she could be anything- do anything.
Alan Milner padded though the trashed living room to where his wife had finally succumbed to sleep, sighing loudly with frustration. Their 9 year old, Cathy stood timidly in the hall behind him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She knew the routine. Before long, her parents would be engaged in another volley of pleading and blatant resistance. Her dad would plead with her mom to go back to a doctor and get some help. Her mom would adamantly state that she would rather stick needles in her eyes then go see another doctor. Cathy quietly slipped back into her room to wait out the storm. After the battle, she would fix breakfast, and send herself off to school. Cathy Milner’s plight had robbed her of her childhood and launched her far into the future of adult responsibilities.
Alan stood over his sleeping wife. Her face was down on the kitchen table next to a spiral notebook containing illegible scribble. He picked up the notebook and viewed the endless pages of scrawling dribble. Quietly, he took the chair next to Cait and began stroking her hair with sad resolve. This wasn’t her fault. His wife was tormented with an illness that had not first requested permission to enter. In a weeks, or months - Cait would become too depressed to drag her lifeless body out of bed. That was the other side of this monstrous coin.
Caitlyn Milner suffered from Bi-Polar Disorder. The popular, outdated term known by most lay people was manic depression. It was the least compassionate of the mood disorders, relenting to stability for a time, and then suddenly refusing to stay confined in the parameters of an existence resembling normality. Most bi-polars were used to regular visits to hospitals, where they would remain for weeks and sometimes months, while doctors rearranged their medical furniture on a weekly basis. Cait had worn out that welcome. She also had very little faith this process, knowing full well that there was no cure; only momentary reprieves.
The cost for the Milner’s Medwin insurance policy had risen to exorbitant heights in an attempt to force the family to go elsewhere. There was nowhere else to go. No respectable insurance company, of the few remaining, would provide coverage for an existing ailment. Especially one so financially draining. So Alan had remained their hostage, forking out so much money each month, he had maxed out every credit card they owned, along with a loan against their home. After the last hospital stay, Medwin had cancelled their policy.
It had been an uncomplicated plan. Somehow, the check that had been allegedly sent on time did not find its destination, nor had any communication been supplied. The Milner’s were cancelled because the bill had not been paid. Simple as that. Continued phone calls to lifeless customer service representatives provided the family with promises to ‘investigate’ the missing payment. Subsequent phone calls would render a new lifeless rep, claiming to know nothing of the previous calls, but promising to begin the inquiry. Cait’s illness quickly out ran the bureaucratic process, until she found herself in crisis once again - uninsured.
Cait raised her head slowly, quickly orienting herself to daylight. During these times, sleep was a precious commodity. After 3 solid days of high speed activity, the body had won out over her mind. “I must have dozed.” Cait stared at her husband with a clarity that warned him of the inevitable. She was too coherent. Her manic cycle was beginning to wind down. Relentless and overwhelming depression was waiting for her in the days to come. They braved out her manic storm, avoiding the annual trip to ‘Funny Farm Central.’ Cait’s phrase. Now, Alan would have to arrange for some kind of baby sitting to cover the time when no one was home with her.
During her mania, she was fun, elated, prophetic and magical, but she was not a danger to herself. Her worst attribute during those times was that she tended t