Last night I realised just how tenuous one's hold on sanity can be. The revelation was more than a little unsettling.
Let me back up the truck a little.
My grandmother just recently had a fall, and broke her right arm in two places. Over the last few days she has been staying with myself and my mother so that we can look after her while she recovers her strength. My grandmother has a wit as sharp as a tomahawk, and a physical tenacity that borders on the obsessive. I have always thought of her as someone who will stave off the Grim Reaper by sheer force of will alone. Last night, the reality of it all came crashing in on my fantasy-land.
Yesterday morning she had a minor disagreement with my mother. Since then, things degenerated far beyond the scope of normal behaviour. She has gone on a hunger strike, refusing any food or drink and locked herself in the spare bedroom refusing to see anyone.
Mid last evening she had a complete psychotic break. The obscenities and wild, fantastical accusations that she spat out of her mouth, dripping with hate appalled me to my core.
Everyone has seen the Witches Of Eastwick, and heard/seen similar stories... but when something like this hits you full in the face in 100% living color, the usual "it'll never happen to me" barrier crumbles like cheap wallpaper in the heat.
As I sit here, waiting for the Mental Health Crisis Team to turn up at our front door (and possibly cart my poor grandmother away), I thought I'd share the experience and dearly hope than none who read this have to go through a similar unnerving experience.