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It's been a day of intensity and observed sorrow, but I'm relaxed and optimistic nonetheless. It began at about 7:00 this morning. Ellie Mae barked I woke to the sound of the phone ringing, and laid there thinking that if it was important, whoever it was would call again. The ringing stopped. I was awake, though, so I swung out of bed, walked to the back room and smiled at the sight of Jeff passed out on the couch where he had been waiting for Ellie Mae to come back in, went to the office, turned on the computer, and brushed my teeth as it booted up. The phone rang again. I answered it. It was D., asking for the name of my psychiatrist. A thousand questions flashed through my head, but I didn't ask any of them. I gave him the name of my psychiatrist, and I looked for her number but I couldn't find my purse. She's listed, I told him, and he said he could find it, then added that since I'd probably saved his life last week when we talked about the way he'd stopped his medication, he wanted to say thanks. He realized that he'd been completely insane, literally insane, after he became convinced last night that there were snipers' rifles pointed at him and he found himself waiting for the bullets. That's horrifying, I told him, and he agreed, then said he needed to go, but that he would let me know what happened.

I hung up and tried to figure out how I felt. I felt relieved. I had been waiting, I realized, for this meltdown, and I was relieved that he was going through it but recognized it for what it was and was open about it and was going to be okay. I went and woke Jeff and told that he could have the bed; I was up. I told him D. thought there were snipers after him. Jeff heard me, but was too sleepy to react. I wanted to tell him how curious it was to me that I wasn't afraid for D., but I let him go back to sleep instead.