My mum finally got properly diagnosed after the apples-and-oranges incident. She was told she suffered from bipolar disorder and was prescribed lithium to help control her manic episodes. She said the lithium helped; it kept her stable and stopped her getting ahead of herself. Dad had taken her to the doctor a few times before, but she always went reluctantly and we later found out she never told the doctor the full extent of her symptoms. She was only ever diagnosed with stress and panic attacks and given a booklet on relaxation techniques and some beta-blockers.
Everything changed when Dad got a phone call from the police saying that they had Mum down at the station. She hadn’t been arrested but it was important that he came in for a chat with them. He bundled me into the car and drove faster than I’d seen him drive. He flung the car to a stop right outside the police station and told me to wait where I was. He strode up the steps and banged through the doors. I sat in the cold car, watching my breath mist up the windows and wondered what was going on inside.
I found out later that the police had been called to the High Street where they’d found Mum handing out apples and oranges to passers-by. She’d bought cases of them from a local organic dealer and was stopping people as they passed and lecturing them on the nutrients and vitamins contained in fruit and how important it was to feed the body and brain with the right kind of food. She was preaching about how supermarkets fly in apples from America even though we have wonderful apples in our own orchards. ‘Think about your carbon footprint,’ she told them and took a big bite from a red apple. She was quite insistent, trying to push the fruit in people’s pockets if they just walked past and it was obvious that something was wrong. One of the local shopkeepers had tried to calm her, made her a cup of tea and told her to come in and sit down. When she brushed him away and carried on as frantically as before he rang the police. The police told my dad that she had scared some people, that her manner had been intense. They said she needed to see a doctor. Dad knew that; he’d been trying to get her help for ages. This time, Mum agreed.
As usual, the next day she was the opposite of how she had been only a few hours before. She looked exhausted as Dad helped her into the car. She was dressed in a big jumper and jeans and looked as slow and frail as an old woman. Dad went in with her to see the doctor. The doctor asked Mum what the problem was and she told him everything. It took twenty minutes. The doctor nodded a lot and made little scribbles on his pad. When Mum had finished and sunk low into the chair Dr Hanson told her that she displayed all the symptoms of bipolar disorder. He said he would like to send her to a special clinic that deals with the illness but there was a waiting list of eighteen months. So he sent her back to us with a suitcase of drugs and strict instructions to rest. He made sure that Mum went back to see him every two weeks though, to monitor how she was feeling and to see if they needed to change the prescription.
Word had got out and travelled around the school and by the next day everyone was talking about the mental apples-and-oranges woman. Nobody mentioned it to me, but I heard conversations fall suddenly quiet as I walked past and I got a lot more looks than usual and my friend Ian got in a fight at lunch but wouldn’t tell me why. Dad sat me down that night and told me he was sorry if Mum’s behaviour had caused me any problems or embarrassment at school but it was just something we would have to deal with. I told him not to worry, that if anyone said anything I’d tell them to fuck off. He laughed and told me that I had the right idea.
Things did get gradually better but the lithium was no magic cure. It was no magic pill that solved all Mum’s problems. The dose was too high at first and she was almost sedated; she was like a zombie. She found it hard to keep track of conversation and her sentences would trail off before they were finished. The doctor reduced the prescription and in the end it did work. She was calmer and more balanced but sometimes she seemed sad. I asked her once what the lithium was like and she said it was a necessary evil. She said that it made her feel like she’d been driven to a spectacular view on top of a cliff but told she must stay in the car so she couldn’t feel the wind and couldn’t smell the sea. And it made her mouth taste metallic and she had been sick in public a couple of times, which was embarrassing, but it did stop her speeding up and spinning out of control.
She told me, ‘I do miss the thrill though, the excitement and the feelings I had before. It really did feel like anything was possible and now everything just seems a little flat.’ She gave me a hug and said, ‘Still it’s better than being the mental fruit lady, isn’t it?’