Destined

Undiagnosed Problem

He didn't say anything. He just sat there last night as I told him what he wanted wasn't going to happen. His face went straight and his color stayed the same. Typically when you go against Daryl's wishes, there's Hell to pay. But this time? This time he backed off like a lame duck. He didn't argue, scream, or force me into what he wanted. He just...let it go. Why?

As I sit be his bedside this morning, watching his snooze, all I can do is question his most recent behaviors. For instance, Ty picked me up last night to take me back to the station for Daryl's truck so I could go home. When I got in the truck, I nearly had a heart attack from finding my boot prints still the dash. I was certain when he took a while getting out of the truck yesterday it was because he was wiping it off, but here it is. Why? Why hasn't he wipes off the dirt that is ruining his dash? Why is he simply giving up in a fight? I don't understand how he can be so, unDaryl. I want to understand.

"Mm... Morning Princess..." Oh my God, he did not. He must have fried his memory yesterday.

"Morning. How are you feeling?" Mentally ill I assume.

"Perfect now that yer here with me." He leans forward looking like he wants a kiss and I'm a little freaked out by it, but I give him one anyway.

"How many brain cells did exactly fry anyway?" He laughs at my comment and shakes his head. "I'm being serious- this is not you."

He stops laughing and looks at me a little hurt by the comment.

"I could have died yesterday. You know that right?" He sternly looks at me, brows furrowed, and nostrils flaring. This is it. This is Daryl being Daryl. "Guess that wouldn't have mattered to ya anyway! Would have just loved to be free to do whatever you wanted- be with someone more competent like Jesus!"

"Daryl, stop."

"Nah, this is what ya wanted. An asshole right? Seems to be the only kind of man you want. This is me!" With his wrapped hands, he opens his robe and tugs the heart monitor plugs off. Tearing the IV from his arm, monitors go off and he grabs his clothes from the top of the table and begins pulling them on- his hands probably killing him. "Do what you fuckin' want. I don't care any more. I'm not gonna stick around to see you fuck it up any more."

Well that hurt. As he pulls his shirt on and slips into his boots, he turns on his heel and leaves the room. Nurses come running in and I just sit there dumbfounded. That really hurt and he's really pissed.

***

Storming out of the building, a security comes up and grabs my arm when a nurse tells him to stop me. Turning slightly I pull out of his grasp, dislocating my shoulder and get in the first cab that pulls in. I tell him to head to the station so I can get my truck. I wasn't about to be sticking around for someone to tell me to calm down. It wasn't happening.

"You okay buddy?" The cabbie asks and I blow him off. The older gentleman nods his head and keeps driving. "I don't know what happened, but who ever yer mad at, probably didn't. Mean it. Ya know, hurt people tend to say the worst things cause they're just that, hurt and at their worst."

"What would you say if I told you they are bipolar and refuses to take their meds and that they fuck everything up?"

"I'd say trying to get them on their meds is the best thing, but if they refuse, well tell them this mantra- You are not bad, you are not unwanted, you are simply a gifted person who needs the love people try to give you- my grandfather was bipolar, undiagnosed for most of his life and we all just saw him as angry, that was the emotion that was most common for him, not really sadness and very little happiness in him. his fits of rage touched everyone and when they diagnosed him, it got worse. He figured the medicine didn't work and that the doctors just wanted an excuse to take him money. It wasn't until he hurt my grandmother by accident that he started thinking the other way- saying he was sorry all the time, became depressed. Well when I had my first kid, John, he and my son would have grandfather/ son days and one day he accidentally smacked my son for breaking his favorite record. My son was afraid of him and I got mad at him so I stopped letting my son go there. One night about a month later he came to my house and pleaded to me that he didn't mean it, that he couldn't control himself and his actions. I never seen my grandfather grovel before- at 84 years old he got on his knees and begged my forgiveness and I was about to deny him that. It wasn't until my son went to him, stood him up and said that mantra to him. After that, whenever my grandfather got really upset, he would say those words and it calmed him. So, who ever yer person is, who refuses to medicate, just let them know that through the shuffle of emotions- that they are loved and they are good."