"My Bipolar Exceeded Its Limit"

The classes I teach on Monday and Wednesday evenings are in a library classroom, and I often pause on my way out to talk with the library attendant as I leave. Tonight she said she had been in the hospital last week. I said, "What?!" She said, "Yeah, my bipolar exceeded its limit and they took me in." I didn't ask a lot of questions. She's a nice lady, a little eccentric, but aren't we all? She's usually quite obsequious; no matter how many times I ask her to call me by my first name, she insists on calling me "Professor". She's at least my age, so it feels weird, even though I have had students who are older than I (but not as much lately). She is a student at the college, but she isn't in any of my classes.

She went on to tell me that the doctors had changed her meds, but the new meds messed her up so she decided not to take them. I said, "I guess that's a hard decision when the doctors tell you the meds will make you feel better but instead they make you feel worse." She acted as if I had tried to physically restrain her and force the pills down her throat. "I'm not taking them! There's no way I'm taking them! When you have twenty years sober, you don't want to get messed up." I didn't have much to say to that. I don't know much about being bipolar (although I do know a thing or two about exceeding limits) and/or the side effects and/or contraindications of the medications used to treat it. So I wished her well and said I hoped she felt better soon.

It's unusual for me not to know what to say in any given situation. I'm blessed or cursed (depending on your outlook -- and whether you're one of my children!) to be able to quickly find common ground with vitually anyone and find something to talk about. This was a new one for me though. Still, I think wishing someone well is always a good bet, and I do hope she feels better. And that was the cap to my very weird, very long day.