Once we returned home, I became a prisoner in our bedroom for about a week. I couldn’t talk or eat. The bedroom door stayed closed and I couldn’t get myself to converse with the friends who came by to comfort me.
Initially, there was only one friend with I whom would talk, Bob of Janine and Bob. They drove over two hours from New Jersey. At that point, I had known Bob for about 25 years. We had played together (for example, our own version of the Olympics – complete with a jump over Mr. Turtle), debated everything possible all the time, and even vacationed together. We always had to “win” our debates.
[I cannot continue without mentioning the sadness I feel over the loss of the third of our three amigos, Ken – beloved husband of Rita and father and grandfather. Ken had a long battle with cancer and was upbeat until the end. Ken, we drifted apart for a while. But, we reconnected and today I consider you one of my heroes. Rest in peace.]
Bob and I talked for quite a while. He was – and is – within the inner circle of my community. So too is Janine. Thank you for being there for me.
Next, I knew I needed to see a therapist. I was recommended to a psychiatrist, who also suggested that I see a psychologist. Only then did I learn the different primary roles of each of the two types of therapists: prescribing medications versus counseling.
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