Had to have a few days to recover from the 'family conference'. It consisted of a 10 minute chat with one of her therapists, where I explained that if I actually said what I thought in front of sis she would explode in dramatic form. He nodded his head sagely and asked if I had any particular examples of her druggy behaviour. God, where wouldI start? Certainly couldn't scratch the surface in 10 minutes, that's for sure. So I gave him a couple - coked up at dad's funeral, turning up drunk to visit me when Thing 2 was born, shouting and screaming at her own barrister in court. None of which seemed in the least bit of a surprise to him.
Enter sister stage right. 30 minutes of pretty much how unsupportive I had been in her hour of need (that'd be the hour of need when I was heavily pregnant, working full time shift work,looking after Thing 1 as a toddler, commuting 60 miles a day, looking after dad as he slid further into the abyss of dementia). As you can guess I was none too impressed. Don't think I won over the therapist by describing therapy as 'navel gazing' - He said I was the 'head' and sister was the 'heart' of the family. More like 'Mug' and 'skiving, selfish, self centred, lazy, manipulative cow'
As you may have guessed, I didn't think much of it. Sister cried continually, but at least kept the semtex-type explosive behaviour in check.
Sister was looking forward to her 'exeat' 2 days later - a chance to go home just overnight to start her move back in to the real world. Mr Therapy explained to me in private that the programme requires total abstinence from drink and drugs. I said I thought this highly unlikely. He put his head to one side and explained how determined he felt sister was.
Had a phone call from sister tonight. She is in detention, standing outside the headmasters office. Her 'friend' , the one who had offered sister a bed for her exeat and a quiet night in with a meal and a DVD and some good girly chat, took her to a mate's party instead where they got larruped. No drugs - apparently all her 'mates' were very 'respectful' of this and did it outside, but a bottle of wine instead.
£15k, 28 days as an inmate and still no bloody further down the line (Freudian slip, I assure you) They want her to stay another week, which she has refused, but will do day therapy instead - 9-4.30, for a week, leaving her another 15 or so hours a day to snort her septum out.
Alison's sister, 10 days into her 3 week terminal prognosis, is finally in for her 'shit or bust' operation today - it will take at least 10 hours. I can't begin to imagine how awful this must be for them all. Apparently her kids left for school this morning without seeing her as she was sleeping and the call came in after they had gone that the bed was waiting - she hasn't said goodbye to her kids and may never see them again. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it. Life is so unfair.
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