Crazy Pills

I`m running out of drugs.

I tried cutting my dose by biting them in half (they taste really, really disgusting), but I`m not quite ready yet: the number of cigarettes smoked immediately tripled, breaths between smoking halved, sadness started creeping into the middle of me, and I began missing him badly and painfully again, which I cannot afford to do. So I sent mum and dad a plea.

Seven crazy pills left, I emailed. Tick tock tick tock. Need you to send more. Mum, I`m going to bet you`ve lost the prescription haven`t you.
What prescription?
The prescription I left with you.
I don`t know where it is.
Yes. Thought so. Dad?
I`m on it, he emailed. What happens if you run out?
I won`t die. But I will start crying in the loos at lunchtime again and staring at the ceiling for hours and hours and hours wishing I was someone else. And I`ve got much better things to do with my time.
Gotcha. Will get you some even I have to steal it from my doctor friend when he`s in the pub.

Dad turned the house upside down, found the slip, went to the doctors`, got another prescription, went to Boots, and then sent the following email (copied and pasted, because I cannot write like my father):

Bad news is ready for next Tuesday!! BUT: I threatened them with abuse and horses heads in beds --result ''lets make that Wednesday." SO: Said she was a fine looking lady and perhaps she'd like to go for a drink sometime --result '' I meant next Thursday.'' SO : Broke down, told her my Giro was lost in t`post and that I was having panic attacks --result ''Make it week after next and stop being a woss.'' SO: Asked her very nicely if she could possibly help for the sake of my daughter ---result: ''come back at 5.30 today and i'll make sure its done.'' There is a lesson to be learnt here but needless to say I havn't any idea what it is!! Dad xxxx

To which my mum responded to us both immediately:

Mark, if you have ever wondered why I love you, this is it.

Love makes itself known in the strangest ways, and often in what is done, rather than what is said. My dad - the man with the biggest heart in the world - doesn`t need to tell me he loves me (although he does): he shows it every single time he swoops in to save me. And if I need faith in romantic love, I don`t need to look much further than my parents. Who - for all their eccentricities - still love each other and look after each other and fight for each other, the way they both love and look after and fight for me.

The crazy pills are just the temporary lifebelt thrown to me in a storm; but the boat is my family. And when one kind of love threatens to pull me under, another kind of love always pushes me back up again.

And - luckily for me - that love will always be stronger.