TheBanyanTree: The Diaries, 073104

[Monique]

I've been silent lately, haven't I? We haven't had much activity the past
week, or we have, but not of the schizophrenic/psychosis variety, and work
has been backlogged, and the weather has been hot. Stew does not do well in
hot weather, neither do I for that matter, and his health has concerned me.
Headaches, stomache aches, sometimes he throws up, and he is so frustrated
with feeling bad physically that it is just one more thing to throw into the
mix. All in all, however, he's been reasonably well grounded.

Then again, I've become accustomed to the minor things that happen on a
regular basis, I take little notice of them, of the times he thinks someone
has tapped him from behind when I am right there to see that there was no
one there at all, when his perceptions appear to be just a bit off from what
I see . . . (I don't like to say my perceptions are entirely accurate
either, but mine are less frightening, so I tend to encourage my viewpoint.
As a matter of political correctness, I don't want to give more weight to my
perception than his, even though he sees demons and I don't. This is a joke
of course. Sometimes it is good if I point this out.)

When the small incidents happen we deal with it right then and move on. He's
able to deal rather rationally with these things most of the time. When he
thought someone had tapped him from behind we were in a restaurant where
we'd gone to escape the heat (around here, we don't all have air
conditioning because we don't, for the most part, need it, so when we do
need it we're spectacularly unprepared). After talking about it, he decided
that maybe it was just a stray current of air. Perhaps.

Friday night, last night, I was at home with Andrew. The last time I'd seen
Stew he'd brought me some groceries. Earlier in the day he'd had his truck
fixed -- the battery needed to be replaced, and it had to be towed. He'd
dealt with that very well . . . there is a tendency to panic at these
things. Another car problem is another problem that he doesn't need, and the
idea that it might be something expensive and utterly ghastly is always
there. But it was just the battery, and bad cables, and it had all been
fixed successfully. (Which is to say, the truck was running again.)

About 10:00 pm Stew called. He asked if I was in or out, and when I said in
he said that was okay, he just thought if I was out that maybe I could stop
and get him something. I asked what he wanted. He said a Coke Slurpee.

Coke Slurpees have been high on his list lately.

I told him we were thinking of going out and getting some ice cream, would
he like me to get him a Coke Slurpee? I could tell there was something
wrong, there's a distinct difference when there's something wrong as opposed
to when there's nothing whatsoever wrong, and I do have some experience in
these matters.

He didn't want to be any trouble, he said, and he started to cry. I told him
to tell me what was going on.

There was a demon with him, at least one, and he hadn't eaten dinner. Stew,
not the demon. We don't really care if the demons eat. I asked why he hadn't
eaten, and he said he just hadn't known what to do about it. This is the
thing, and this is what I tend to berate myself for: he appears rational,
logical, and capable much of the time, and so I forget . . . I forget that
his mind isn't working quite like someone else's would, or isn't in sync
even with itself, and so I end up relying on him to tell me these things
because I don't have any way of knowing otherwise. I think I should, that I
should be able to tell that his mind is elsewhere, or that there are things
going on within him that I can't comprehend, but, like I said, I forget.

I told him not to worry, and asked if he'd like some chicken pasta. We had
some left over, still sitting on the stove, an experiment that had seemed to
go well. He sounded so happy about that, so grateful that there was a
solution to the problem of not having eaten. I told him I'd be over in a
minute with dinner, a Coke Slurpee, and I would take care of the demon.

Andrew went with me, I told him we'd get ice cream afterwards, though he
didn't need to be bribed. We went to 7-11 for the Slurpee, and he had to
dispense it . . . a Slurpee is something I have not had to get, since Stew
is capable of getting his own quite well in most cases. I also bought Stew a
candy bar . . . I figured it would round out the meal.

Andrew asked if he should just stay in the car . . . "That might be best," I
said, "This could get ugly."

Demons are not always cooperative, after all, and it may be too soon in our
relationship to expose him to the demon slayer side of me.

Technically, I don't slay demons. I make fun of them, I refuse to buy into
their trademark theatrics, I mock them. They hate that.

Stew did not look as bad as he has in the past, did not seem as tormented
nor as out of touch with reality. I do believe, despite everything, that he
has made quite a bit of progress. He showed me where the demon was. I didn't
actually see a demon, but often Stew doesn't see them either, just feels
their presence, usually behind him. I told the demon he was in trouble, that
we weren't scared of him.

Unfortunately, while I was talking to the demon, he moved back behind Stew,
who was standing next to me, so I was talking to nothing but air. I like to
think the demon was getting the point anyway though.

I had Stew try the chicken pasta to see if he liked it . . . I didn't tell
him there was a small amount of broccoli in it. He liked it, was happy,
seemed good. He was doing well. We talked about the demon some more, about
how harmless he really was, and I threatened to take the demon with me. For
ice cream. Then shove his face into his ice cream.

This is not a proven demon fighting technique but I am, after all, going
mostly on instinct here, and my instinct tells me that making fun of demons
is more productive than fearing them.

I told Stew I'd take the demon with me, that he'd be safe. He'd already
walked Honey, and she was reasonably happy and seemed content to be indoors
and safe. Stew walked me outside, and then said the demon was there, behind
him again. I told him to go back inside then, to leave the demon outside
with me where it could be properly dealt with, and once he was inside and
the demon outside the demon wouldn't be able to get back in. So Stew went
back inside, and closed the door carefully, and I took the demon with me.

A few minutes later I called Stew from the car, to verify that he was safe
and demon free. He sounded good. He thanked me. He had food, reassurance,
been comforted, and felt reasonably safe again.

And Andrew and I made it to Baskin Robbins for ice cream five minutes before
closing. Andrew told me, later, that the demon had made it out to the car
before I did, so he had taken the liberty of slaying it himself and had
stuffed it in the trunk, and would dispose of it in the morning. It is good
to have assistance with the demon slaying. Last time I wrestled with one of
those things I broke a fingernail, and it about ruined my entire day.


Monique