Crazy is as crazy rants

Well that was one exhausting phone call. I spent an hour on the phone with Crazy Brother trying to convince him that we do love him and we haven't given up on him. Don't know if that message ever got through, but after Mom told me he believed the opposite, I had to make the effort. Poor woman--I can't imagine how tired out she is after having spent the night over at his place. There's a lot we don't understand about the drugs, their side effects, and what they were covering up, but one of the odder symptoms has been extreme sensitivity to cold. So he had the heat on.

In St Louis.

In summer.

He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and still shivering the whole time. And ranting; Mom said she really didn't have to do anything to keep up the conversation. Over the phone, I had to make a bit more of an effort. At first he wanted me to repeat back what he was saying to make sure it hadn't changed, but even after I did that he still didn't believe what he was hearing, so mercifully we were able to give up on that pretty quickly. The rest of the conversation was endless repetition of the same few figures. Sometimes he couldn't remember what he'd said immediately after he'd said it; as I grew more tired, I began to ask questions and then forget why I'd asked them.

So in any case he's in the hospital now and he's back on the anti-psychotics; he seems to think he'll never go home again; Mom thinks he could be home within a week. I promised to call tomorrow, which I suspect will be more-or-less a repeat of tonight. Maybe things will start to look up by the weekend.