In December the three of us move into an apartment of our own on West 108th Street, and the time of our troubles limps to an end. At least for now.
POSTSCRIPT
Two years later, in December 1998, Sally was in the birthing room with Pat and me after her half-brother Brendan was born. She worriedly comforted Brendan when he whimpered under the warming lamp in his bassinette. She adored him when he was little, whispering in his presence when saying something she believed he was too tender to hear.
In June 1999, Sally graduated with honors from high school, and in September she started classes at a small liberal arts college in Manhattan while continuing to live at home. She seemed to have entered a period of intense creativity, catching her teachers’ attention with her writing and her original turn of mind. But in the spring she had to withdraw from school, beset with manic psychosis after being free of it for more than three years. A series of hospitalizations followed. It took nearly a year for her to find her footing again.
In 2001 Sally became romantically involved with a former high school classmate, Alex. They were each other’s “first,” as Sally put it. “He told me he loved me,” she said, over the moon with him. It seemed a huge leap forward. They were relaxed with each other, Alex eager and innocent, the two of them quick to laugh, sharing private jokes and myriad points of connection. They seemed considerate and protective of each other, and though Alex was aware of the medication Sally was taking and what it was for, he seemed as mystified by the deeper currents of her illness as I once had been.
Sally moved in with Alex during his last year of college in upstate New York, working with young children at a local day care center, and at the college dining hall in order to help Alex make it through to graduation.
In July 2004, they were married on the shore of Lake Seneca in Geneva, New York, with families and friends in attendance, and Brendan carefully bearing their rings on a small white cushion.
Two years later, for health reasons, Sally was taken off Zyprexa, the powerful neuroleptic that had replaced valproic acid as her main medication, and that, despite several undesirable side effects, had helped keep her out of the hospital for more than five years. Psychosis jumped to life in her with renewed force, as if it had been lying in wait.
In the summer of 2007 she separated from Alex. She now lives in Vermont near Robin and George. She works part-time at Robin’s bakery, specializing in the confection of lemon squares and muffins. She also helps out at a nearby farm, tapping maple trees for syrup and tending to the goats and cows. We talk almost every day, Sally wry about herself, and courageous even during her periods of retreat and loss. She is determined to learn to anticipate her worst bouts of psychosis, and head them off before they overwhelm her. “I’m trying to recognize when it’s coming on,” she says, “so I can get out of the way or at least drop to the ground like you would when caught in the crossfire of a shootout.”
When I told her I was writing a book about the summer of her first crack-up, she said, “I like the idea that you’re thinking so much about me.” Then, after pondering it for a while, she added, “I want you to use my real name.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am indebted to Judith Gurewich, publisher of Other Press, whose editing skills and unwavering commitment to this book nourished it throughout; and to Jim Campbell for his keen reader’s eye.
Quotes from Robert Lowell come from Ian Hamilton’s Robert Lowell: A Biography (New York: Random House, 1982). It is both a superb account of the poet’s life and a harrowing depiction of mania during the course of a lifetime and its effect on those who find themselves standing in its path.
Richard Ellmann’s classic biography James Joyce (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959) and Brenda Maddox’s excellent Nora: The Real Life of Molly Bloom (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1988) provided the essential outline of James and Nora Joyce’s troubled relationship with their daughter Lucia.
Copyright © 2008 Michael Greenberg
Production Editor: Yvonne E. Cárdenas
To protect their privacy, names and identifying details of medical staff, patients, and their families have been changed. In a few minor instances, the chronology of events during Sally’s hospitalization have been slightly altered.
Brief portions of this book appeared, in an earlier form, in the author’s column in the Times Literary Supplement of London on July 14, 2006 and July 13, 2007.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from Other Press LLC, except in the case of brief quotations in reviews for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast. For information write to Other Press LLC, 2 Park Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10016. Or visit our Web site: www.otherpress.com.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Greenberg, Michael, 1952–
Hurry down sunshine / by Michael Greenberg.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-1-59051-325-5
1. Greenberg, Sally, 1981– 2. Manic-depressive illness in adolescence—Patients—New York (State)—New York. 3. Parents of mentally ill children. I. Title.
RC516.G74 2008
362.196'8950092—dc22
[B]
2008002674
v1.0
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