Page 27 of The Gift Of Life

I knew Dr Carmichael would pick up on my mum's uneasy stance on things. It helps me because I know it hasn’t all been in my head.

“I’m just concerned that things are happening too fast,” says my mum.

“What is concerning you?”

My mum looks at me first. I can see tears shimmering in her eyes. I lean over and take her hand in mine to let her know that she can say whatever she likes. The only way we can move forward is by sharing our thoughts and feelings.

“I’m terrified of losing my daughter. Witnessing her fighting for life, paramedics trying to stabilise her… I don’t want to see that again.” My mum wipes at her tears. “I thought I’d lost her.”

“And what went through your mind the day you found Harper unconscious?”

My mum takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I blamed myself. I should have realised something was wrong with my little girl other than grief. I…” tears cascade down my mum’s face freely and I pick up the box of tissues, take two out, and hand them to her. “I failed my baby.”

“You didn’t fail me, Mum.” I reach over and take my mum into my arms.

“It's understandable that you feel that way. What happened to Harper affects the whole family circle. What we need to focus on at this moment is the here and now. The positives. And positives for me are, one, Harper couldn’t even look at me the first day I met her. She was consumed with shame and guilt. I knew for a fact if she was allowed home that day then we wouldn’t be here now. Two, Harper couldn’t see a future. She was so consumed with her loss that she was stuck. All she wanted was to be with her daughter. Three, and this is the biggie, Harper didn’t want help. Now, taking all of that into account, Harper is more than happy to speak to me in person, on the phone, and via email. She is looking forward instead of back. Finally, if she is struggling with anything, she reaches out. Harper is what I would class as a Grade A student, without sounding condescending. She has worked hard over the last few weeks, the medication is working, and I see a huge difference in her. I am extremely proud of her. If I thought for one moment that things were happening too quickly, I would put the brakes on myself.”

“I am so proud of her, Doctor. I love her more than life itself. I will try to see things differently, it’s just hard when the picture of that day is stuck in my head.”

“I will be more than happy to have a few sessions with you on your own if that is something you’d like. I’m here to help Harper remain healthy and happy, which in turn means working with the family as a whole.”

My mum nods faintly. “That sounds great, I think that would be beneficial.”

“Good. I’ll look forward to it. Harper, how does it make you feel when someone reminds you of your suicide attempt?”

Those two words–suicide attempt–make my blood run cold. I hate them. I hate how it makes me feel.

“I hate it. It transports me back to a time that I’m working hard to move on from.” I clench my fist tightly.

“And how do you deal with it when it’s mentioned or you’re reminded of that time?”

I sigh. “I argued with my mum, but had it been anyone else I probably would have walked away.”

“Hurt?” I nod. “Angry?” I nod again. “Frustrated?”

“I feel stupid, embarrassed... but I’m learning that mental health issues are nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us.”

“Mrs Drysdale, how does it make you feel hearing Harper say that?”

“Terrible. I don’t want to cause her more pain and trauma. She has nothing to be ashamed of. She did nothing wrong.”

“I think the key here is that you both have witnessed this whole situation from different viewpoints. It will be impossible to fully understand how the other is feeling, but talking without shouting at one another will be a start. Can I suggest something?”

“Of course,” I say.

“I want you to pick one day in the week where you do something together that you once would have done. Of course, you can make it more often if you like, but let’s aim for once for now. Go for a coffee, a lunch, a spa day. Anything if it’s something you'll both enjoy.”

“That’s one hundred percent doable, Dr Carmichael,” I agree and tighten my grip on her hand.

The doctor smiles at me. “Good. Harper, the gallery. That is amazing news. A big step.”

I want to bounce on my seat like a giddy child. I’m so excited about the prospect of opening my own art gallery.

“I can’t wait. I’ve got so many plans.”

“Be sure to send me an invite for opening day. I’m going to be a Debbie Downer now and touch on one subject we’ve been skirting over lately. Home. Where do you stand on that?”

In my last few sessions, I said I wasn’t ready for home and changed the subject, but I won’t get away with that forever.

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