Jim and I met twice last week, on successive days, with a psychiatrist in Berkeley for Charlie. We needed two sessions to talk about Charlie. (I also suppose, the mere fact of finding ourselves in an office with a long couch and armchairs and an attentive, humane doctor, was sufficient for us to unfurl quite a few tales of the past 17 years).
A callback from Charlie's neurologist (also a very kindly and observant man) the previous week had reminded me that one of Charlie's neurologists in New Jersey had, at my last consultation with her the day before her last one in the neurology practice (long story!), mentioned we should think of a change in Charlie's medication and that waiting till we were out in California and Charlie under the care of new doctors would be a good time to consider this.
At the end of the second meeting with the Berkeley psychiatrist, we set up a time for Charlie to meet him, in the early evening, next week.
As anticipated, Charlie had some lag and 'sads' after the intense fun and adventure of Monday night seeing the Pirates beat the Giants. Monday night he went straight to bed not long after we'd gotten back home from the game; he also went to sleep by 11pm on Tuesday night as he was still tired. Wednesday, after a cheery visit to the Solano County Fair, Charlie couldn't sleep at all, only sitting in the brown chair at 4am and dozing off briefly. School was more challenging that day, in particular on a weekly visit to the YMCA swimming pool, Charlie's difficulties standing starkly in contrast to the joy and bliss the pool had once always meant for him to the point that Jim used to quip he was 'safer in the water than on land.'
Friday went more smoothly -- Charlie's school does a great job of rallying to support him in times of need -- and we had a pleasant time again at the Solano County Fair.
On Saturday, Charlie waited for me to return from my weekly run-up-Marin-Boulevard before loading the bikes onto the car and heading over the Bay Bridge and down the Peninsula, to bike at a fast and steady pace on the Bayshore Trail. Curiously, he said 'no' to stopping at my parents' house afterwards as we usually do. After saying hello to them from the silver car's backseat (we had stopped by their house anyways) with the Beach Boys, U2, REM and the Beatles playing on two iPads, Charlie called for home where he paced quietly as a breeze blew through the window blinds.