Mark Thomas Campbell, esq. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aussielawyer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2023-12-27 11:39 pm
aussielawyer) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2023-12-27 11:39 pm
"Cause I spend all my time recovering from the sight of what I should be".
Who: Mark and Sam Campbell
What: Chain Reaction
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
By the time Mark managed to wake up with more lucidity to comprehend what was going on, Sam was nearly falling asleep sitting at his bedside in the hospital. The lights in the room were dimmed and Sam had his elbow resting on the edge of the mattress with his head propped up on his hand but he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He watched as his twin managed some slow and groggy blinks as he tried to get his bearings.
“Sammy…” Mark croaked and tried to clear his throat, becoming aware he had an oxygen mask on and he was definitely in a hospital bed. He hadn’t hallucinated that some shit had gone down. The last thing he really had a clear memory of was being with Justin in the rehab gym and beginning to feel really sick with pains in his chest, then not much of anything else but a suffocating sense of foreboding.
Sam offered a faint smile but he was just too bloody wiped out to manage much else, though there was a rush of relief that flooded through him seeing Mark was awake and finally aware of his surroundings. He had been drifting in and out but not really with it and it was just a matter of waiting until Mark’s system could clear the effects of the drug interaction. “Did you drink, Sparky? No sense beating around the bush. I have to ask.”
Confusion fell across Mark’s face and he frowned, not following. “Booze? Fuck, no. Why—” He stopped to wet his lips, the oxygen making him feel dehydrated and parched. “Didn’t I… it’s not something with my heart?”
“It was. Just not the direct cause. You had an Antabuse reaction. So, I had to ask. If you didn’t drink, we thought maybe you got distracted and used hand sanitiser when you got to the hospital. If you used it multiple times, the clinical strength of it could’ve triggered the reaction in your system and you just lucked out and it hit you hard. But you know I had to check first. Because if you did drink, we can’t ignore that.” Sam knew just looking at Mark’s face, though, that he wasn’t concealing anything. He was genuinely confused. “Whatever the case, we need to stop the Antabuse, Sparky. It stressed your heart too much.”
“I— before I needed to be here for my son? Are you for fucking real? Fuck. Where is he? Does he think I had booze? Shit.” Mark reflexively grabbed the edge of the blankets, readying to push them aside so he could get up. “Fucking hand sanitiser… —the fuck?”
Sam stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Just keep your arse there. You’re not getting up yet. You can’t tax your heart. You need to rest until your system has a chance to recover. Justin’s been admitted to the acute adolescent psych unit. He lost his shit when he thought you were having a heart attack and dying. It triggered a psychotic episode.” He held Mark’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I know you wouldn’t have had booze. But you know I did have to ask. Do you remember if you used sanitiser?”
“Fuck. Fuck. Been trying to prevent that since he got here. Need to see him. He won’t believe I’m okay otherwise. Lemme fucking get to my kid, Sammy…” Mark was too weak to fight Sam with it and Sam was barely resisting him. Even just that very brief attempt to argue, he was left breathless and struggling to even move his arms, they felt weak and jelly-like. It told him that he probably was actually pretty unwell and shouldn’t be moving, even if he didn’t understand what the fuck happened to land him in a hospital bed. “Jesus fucking Christ. Yeah, maybe? Probably. Don’t remember. But I remember I didn’t have booze. I’m trying to bloody get better. I wouldn’t have done that to my kid. I was stressed about him getting up on the parallel bars but I didn’t drink. How is he? Who’s with him? Tell me what happened.”
“Gen and Lexi are with him. Well, they’re up at the unit anyway, until the next visiting hour window. He’s not doing well, mate. He was awake briefly but he still had disordered thinking and seemed to get distressed when they asked if he wanted to see mums, so the psych thought it best to keep family at a distance for the moment. They couldn’t ascertain why he was getting upset but it was an intense reaction at the mention of family. When they mentioned Sash, he completely shut down. He was wiped out and dissociating, not engaging at all. Not even eye contact. They want to keep him medicated for now, but not sedated. When I saw him, he was barely awake and just staring into space. They’re monitoring him and need to keep him safe for now, until they can better assess him.” Sam paused and took a deep breath, trying not to bombard Mark with everything. He wasn’t happy with the readings on the cardiac monitor yet. Mark needed more time to recover. “He hurt Shea, but it was an accident. Jus reflexively tried to stand to help you and Shea made the error of trying to stop him because he was closest to him at the time while Jus was agitated and escalating.”
Mark pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to dodge that all too familiar feeling of dread set in. “A closed ward? Suicide watch?” His eyes fell closed and his posture deflated with a heavy sigh. “How badly is Shea hurt? The kid probably didn’t know about Justin’s issues with touch when he’s crook. I don’t know what Jus has talked to Shea about but they have talked. I’d say mostly about Sash. I remember him being at the gym with Jus when I got there. Shit, I… just… walk me through what fucking happened. How sick was I to set Jus off like that? Wait. Why are you here? You should be home resting.”
Sam was back to propping his head up with his hand and just gave his twin a tired look with a slow blink. “Fuck off, home resting when you’re nearly dropping dead. Stop being a dickwad, you know why I’m here and I’m sick of trying to push back when people ask me that. I’ll be home in bed when I’m not needed here.” He left it at that because he didn’t want to get upset, but there was no doubt about the fact he was struggling with everyone reminding him he needed to rest like it wasn’t something he was constantly aware of in every inch of his body inside and out right now. “I only know what happened secondhand via Shea and what the physios told the emergency staff. Justin pushed him off with a lot of force once he was in that fight or flight mode and Shea hit the ground pretty hard. He broke his wrist because it took the brunt of the fall and he banged his head on the corner of one of the physio beds. It knocked him out briefly so they kept him in overnight for observation, which was a good call because he started having moderate concussion symptoms. They said not long after you arrived and just as the physio was about to get Jus up on the bars, you turned a horrible colour, were sweating profusely, and struggling to breathe. You vomited and collapsed, losing consciousness rapidly and when the physio called a Code Blue, something must’ve just snapped in Jus. He hasn’t been well since Sash woke, this was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s no one’s fault. You need to be strong for him, Sparky, not fall into a pit of despair and guilt.”
It was moments like these Mark knew why he would never survive in this world without his twin. He didn’t know a world where he wasn’t one. Sam had been with him for every single moment of his life from literally conception and Mark knew oftentimes, when he was barely a functioning human that the reason he still had a heartbeat was because of Sam. Sam knew him better than he knew himself and although it didn’t happen blatantly very often, there were times Mark needed Sam to pre-emptively call him out on something to cockblock him from letting his mind make stupid calls that could make a situation worse. The fact they now knew Mark’s mind was complicated by the same mental illness as his son — though he knew he would never understand the complex severity of Justin’ condition, being complicated by C-PTSD and trauma-induced psychotic episodes — meant he needed the backup from his twin when it came to emotional and mental challenges more than ever. What Sam just said to him was exactly what Mark needed to hear. They both knew it. Although he just looked at Sam in silence through a lengthy pause, he soon nodded slowly. “You’re right, Sammy. I can’t even just fucking fake my way through it either. He needs to know I’ve actually got his back. That I’ve still got it even if this is apparently bipolar too. You need to figure out a way to convince them I need to get up there so he can see me in the flesh. Whatever it takes. What’s Al say? Has he assessed him? They need to know Al can give them more insight into Jus’ psyche than any medical record can.”
“As soon as we know you’re safe to be disconnected from the cardiac monitors, Sparky. Not until then. You need to clear the toxins a bit more. You’ve been really fucking crook and you’re not out of the dangerzone yet. The treating cardiologist and I both agree on that. Even then, we’ll have to check to make sure you haven’t caused any further cardiac damage. It’s really a miracle you didn’t have an infarction and it was only because the crash team could get to you so quickly that prevented it. Just observing everything how it played out, I’m actually wondering if the reason Jus got so distressed when they asked if he wanted to see his mums was because his paranoid thoughts maybe had him convinced they were coming to tell him you were dead. All roads lead back there with him but that’s not unfamiliar territory for us, knowing how his psychosis presents.” Sam pursed his lips wryly with a quirk of an eyebrow at his brother. “Al was too indisposed to even assess his own reflection in a mirror. His night out with the squadron lads was apparently a raging success. Pretty sure he was more hungover than we saw him after his twenty-first. Another Campbell bloke with impeccable timing.”
Mark momentarily looked up at the ceiling, which is when he realised even his eyeballs were hurting. His body felt like it was in the aftermath of being on fire. He couldn’t tell if he felt sick because he was in a lot of pain or just felt sick because of the drug that set off a catastrophic chain reaction in his body. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done his research about the drug and what would happen if he drank alcohol. He had been that deadly serious about not drinking. Hell, he even fucking knew that anything with alcohol that could be absorbed into the body could cause a reaction but there was no doubt about the fact that when he arrived at the hospital for Justin’s physio session, the only thing on his mind was his son. He was worried Justin wouldn’t cope trying to hold himself up on the bars and that could mean his projected rehab timeframe was more prolonged than hoped. He was scared for Justin’s emotional stability in recent days the longer he tried to connect with Sash and hit a brick wall. If he’d used bloody hand sanitiser inadvertently, it was because it was the last thing on his mind. What a fucking tragic outcome one small dumb mistake had. His own emotional instability couldn’t be ignored. “The irony of Al on the piss when this happened is not bloody lost on me…” he mumbled, trying to wet his lips which were chafed and sore. He attempted to look over his shoulder at the head of the bed but the slight movement wasn’t a good idea. “Am I allowed to drink anything? I’m dry as a dingo’s nutsuck. Wouldn’t surprise me if those are the tricks Jus’ mind is playing on him but he also sees himself as a threat after a psychotic episode and sees others as a threat to him while he’s psychotic. He hasn’t had a psychotic episode in so long, his brain might not even comprehend the two mums being referred to are Gen and Lex. He might think it’s Gen and the dead cunt. Ah, fuck, Sammy. It’s Lex’s first crack at this, isn’t it? Jesus Christ. Is she holding up okay?”
Knowing Mark was allowed some fluids if he could tolerate them, Sam opened one of the bottles of water left and put a straw into it, sitting forward to take Mark’s oxygen mask off so he could hold the straw to his mouth for a drink. “Just take slow small sips until we know you can keep it down. Shit, I didn’t even think of that. Until we know more, it’s probably best to hold off on any other intervention until you can see him. She’s not in a good place. I think she’s in a bit of shock seeing him restrained and in a secure ward. They let her sit with him while he was under sedation. She’s going through everything you did the first time you faced it. The guilt, the fear, the regret. There’s nothing I can do to cushion the blow for her and I feel terrible about it. I wish I’d thought to prepare her more but she says it wouldn’t have done much anyway because it was near impossible for her to fathom how truly bad it is. Just breaks my fucking heart that she’s blaming herself again, for falling ill when he was born. It’s the worst outcome for everyone. We were all trying to prevent this happening to him but he’s been unstable mentally since the accident happened and I know it hasn’t been easy to gauge how he is because he masks a lot of the time. All any of us can do is try to keep our heads above water for him.”
The water was soothing but after only a few sips, Mark’s gut warned him to stop. “How’s Sash? When I last spoke to Martin and Mhari, they both admitted they were fearful about the fact Jus had only been able to make some leeway with his music. They really hoped there’d be more progress. They’re trying to just take it day by day but it’s hard not to worry about what their future was going to look like, how disabled Sash might end up being. You don’t want to say too much of that shit out loud because it feels like you’ll will it into reality. I should talk to them.”
“It’s okay. They’re holding up okay. They know what happened and just want us to focus on you and Justin right now. They’re just treading water with Sash. He’s asking where Justin is and seems confused why he’s suddenly not visiting. If nothing else, Jus seems to give him some comfort. Sash doesn’t get distressed when Justin’s there. It’s possible that’s some subconscious recollection happening or Jus is just really good at putting him at ease like he is with any unwell person he meets with his charity work. They’re telling Sash that Justin’s not well and if Sash asks any questions, they’ll figure it out. Sash is still struggling with forming cohesive thoughts to know what to ask a majority of the time. You need to rest, Sparky. Jeezus.” Sam squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger, not managing to stifle a sigh escaping.
“You need to go home to bed,” Mark chastised softly, even carefully. He was pretty sure he might nudge Sam to the proverbial straw breaking the camel’s back if he tried to push too much. It wasn’t lost on him that his twin looked severely drained and pale. Probably the worst Mark had seen him in a long time and now he was watching him closely, it was scaring him. Since his cancer diagnosis, Sam had been insistent his form of cancer was mild and extremely treatable with an impressive success rate. But he still needed chemo and radiotherapy. “I’m pretty sure you’re looking as bad as I must be, Sammy. Are you okay?”
Sam gave a slight shake of his head. “Not really. I’m on chemo and I’ve been tapping into your twin shit for the last twenty-four hours. Pretty sure if I try to stand up, I’m going to pass out. It’s okay. I don’t feel crook all the time. It comes and goes, passes eventually. I can’t go home yet. I need to just… be here and know you’re okay for a bit. So bloody humour me. Once you’re able to see Jus, I’ll go home to bed. You have my word.”
“Alright,” Mark quietly agreed. “I could be tapping into your twin shit too, you know. Maybe we’re just hurling it back and forth to each other.”
“Well, there’s definitely hurling of some sort involved,” Sam snorted and now he had monitored Mark long enough to be satisfied he still had a pulse and a living breath — for now, at least — he slumped down in the chair to use the backrest as a pillow. Even if it was hard as a rock, it was backup for his aching neck that felt too inadequate to hold his head up.
“Sammy, you should go home. Gen can—”
“Gen’s beside herself,” Sam cut in, giving Mark an uncharacteristically sharp look, even through the exhaustion. “You haven’t been talking to her. Or communicating much at all, really. It’s not fair, Mark. You promised her on your kid’s life that if you ever felt yourself slipping again, you would tell her. You wrote it into your wedding vows when you were swearing to each other you wouldn’t fuck up that second chance. Not only does she feel like she’s failed Justin because he won’t open up to her, she feels like she’s failed you too. Gen shouldn’t have to go through any of this alone and it’s selfish to expect her to, or that she even has the strength too.”
Mark stared at his twin, taken aback enough to fall into a lingering silence. “I didn’t drink.”
With a heavy sigh of frustration, Sam shook his head, back to trying to squeeze the ache burning between his temples. “I’m not talking the booze, Sparky. I’m talking about everything. Just because this isn’t Gen’s first rodeo with you and Justin, that doesn’t automatically mean she’s equipped to handle this horrible situation. You promised you would talk to her, right after the accident when you admitted you’d been on the piss again, and you haven’t kept that. She feels like she’s at this precipice of a lifetime in this vicious cycle where any time you have a bipolar episode yourself, you’re going to completely shutdown and pull away from her. And I know, Sparky… I know you’re crook and you need time to process and accept your diagnosis, but she’s your wife. She shouldn’t have to be getting any of this about you or Justin secondhand via us.”
This time, Mark really was speechless and that was rare for him. However, as that thought came to him as he struggled to wrap his head around the reality check Sam was hitting him with, he realised losing his ability to verbalise what he was feeling could be a symptom of this mental illness he spent portions of his life with without consciousness to it. Lately, he had so much more awareness of what his son must have battled with before he was diagnosed with bipolar too and Justin had been in a chaotic and traumatised mess when he found Mark. Mark knew almost immediately that he had to get his kid medical help, no matter what it took, but he hadn’t been able to see any of it in himself. He had already been diagnosed with what they originally thought was cyclothymia, a similar condition to bipolar but much more mild in how it presented. Taking an antidepressant and seeing a therapist regularly to manage stress was all he thought he had to do. Maybe ultimately, all that ended up being was an excuse to bury his head in the sand, convince himself his issues were sorted and handled so he could focus on taking care of his kids. “I’m… um, I… I’m scared she’s going to wake up one day and regret remarrying me. I sold her a fucking faulty product, who could blame her? I just can’t say that to her. It makes it sound like I think she’s too weak to handle it. That’s not what I mean,” he tried to explain and his voice wavered then broke with choked up emotion.
“In any other situation, I’d maybe agree that you had a point but this time I’m too drained to beat around the bush, Sparky. That’s bullshit, okay? You need to hear that it’s bullshit. You want to know why? Because if you believe that, it’s almost as sure as saying you think your son is a faulty product and I know you’d as soon as try to end your life prematurely again than ever think that of your boy. Which is why I can’t sit here and validate you when you say it about yourself. Nor can I let you believe that your wife thinks that in any way, shape or form. She doesn’t. All she wants is you to let her in and let her take care of you when you’re crook. You know she can because you’ve watched her do it for your son. I know you would do the same for her and I know you hold this skewed ideal in your head that you need to protect everyone, but we’re past the use-by date on that, mate. She will cut her losses, though, if you make her believe there’s nothing there to fight for by not letting her in. It’s different with Jus, he shuts down when he’s unwell and I know that’s something you probably share with him. But Gen needs to be the exception to the rule, just like you let me be because I’m your twin.” Sam was beginning to feel nauseous again, so he felt around in his jacket pocket for the strip of anti-nausea meds he was carrying on him and washed a couple down with a few sips of water.
Mark watched Sam take the pills but he knew if he asked him if he was okay again, Sam would deflect. That was definitely a Campbell trait. Sam might be more of the calm peacekeeper in the family but he could be stubborn too when he needed to be. “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m doing it again. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I can’t… think. I try, but it’s like nothing is getting through. My head feels like it’s full of cement. It’s not the same as Jus, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s in overdrive, it feels like it’s fucking ground to a halt. I know how to be a dad to someone with bipolar. I don’t know how to have it myself. I don’t. And I wish to fucking hell my wife didn’t need to deal with this when she’s already been through so much pain with Paris and her mum being sick.” He put both his hands up to his cheeks, really not sure if it was his own pain or Sam’s he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was relentless. “I can’t just stop wanting to protect her or anyone in my family. That includes from me. Especially from me.”
“It’s the same as Justin when he’s having a depressive episode, mate. You can’t liken what you’re feeling to what you see him go through because you’re struggling with denial about your diagnosis. You know how to take care of your son no matter what he’s dealing with, but you don’t know how to let people do the same for you. I’m not having a go at you for that, Sparky. That’d make me a hypocrite because I’m dealing with something similar right now. But the more we resist, the harder it is for the people around us. The cold hard truth is that your wife is in this with you for the good, the bad, and the ugly and you’re forgetting that just because you’ve only been recently diagnosed, Gen’s still cared for you when you’ve been unwell. You guys make a great team and it’s not fair for you to pull the plug on that and force her to try to go it alone. Not just dealing with you being sick, but still trying to shoulder Justin’s rocky recovery and rehab with this accident. It’s looking like it’s going to set him right back and even if this triggered a psychotic episode, we all know he’s been on the precipice since the accident happened and they both nearly died.” Sam laced his fingers together and rested his chin against his clasped hands to quietly contemplate his twin before continuing. “How can you protect anyone when you’re not strong enough yourself? Maybe the time’s well past for protection anyway. The shit is happening. All we can do is deal with it. You need to stick with your therapy to find ways to help you redirect this mindset or you’ll never find your footing with being a dad, a husband, a brother, a son. All you’ll be able to think of yourself as is a failure and you’re not. You’re not more of a failure than Justin is. Shit, I’m going to spew. Fuck’s sake—” He clamped his hand over his mouth, dragging himself out of the chair so he could make a run for the attached bathroom. Thank god for private hospital rooms.
Mark knew Sam probably didn’t realise he had been looking more and more green around the gills as he walked Mark through these vital reality checks, so he wasn’t really surprised his twin had to concede defeat to the chemo nausea again. He really struggled with overwhelming sensations of uselessness and helplessness when the people he cared about more than life were suffering. It was impossible not to feel guilty that he had gotten himself into such a mess when they needed him the most. He could see Sam through the bathroom door, on his knees hunched over the toilet and it was like a heavy underscore of all the things his twin was just trying to gently but seriously coach him through. “I don’t know how to get back up this time, Sammy…” he finally admitted once he heard Sam get through the worst of his vomiting bout.
Sam flushed the toilet and went to the basin to rinse his mouth out and wash his hands thoroughly. It was hard not to fall into surgeon habits of scrubbing when he was in a hospital and he was now ultra-conscious of using hand sanitiser near Mark, even if it was only an issue if absorbed into Mark’s system. When he came back to Mark’s beside, he sat on the edge of the chair, not yet convinced he wouldn’t need to vacate it rapidly again soon. “You do, Sparky. And it’s lying up a couple of floors on a psych hold, and probably tucked up in bed in a very enthusiastically-decorated Finding Nemo themed bedroom. Your precious, precious kids are how you get back up again, Sparky. It might be one of the hardest things you ever do, but you’ll do it. No matter what your fractured mind tells you when you’re feeling at your worst, those kids need you more than words can express.”
“It should’ve been you, Sammy. You should’ve been the one who got to be a dad and you’d never have fucked it up like I have. What the hell have I done to my son that he is so terrified of me dropping dead on him that he ends up on an involuntary psych hold? It shouldn’t be like this. I’m harming him and I don’t know how the fuck to fix it. I can’t promise him I won’t die because it feels like I’m going to or… or… something.” Mark pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, what is going on in my head?”
“Hey, listen to me, mate.” Sam put hand on Mark’s leg but didn’t coax him to stop trying to squeeze his eyeballs out. He had seen Justin do similar sorts of gestures when he was having episodes and it felt like his mind was spiralling. “This is still the reaction to the drug, okay? A sense of dread or a fear of dying is one of the psychological symptoms that can hit, in a bevy of other physical and mental side effects. You just need to weather it until it clears from your system. You’re going to be okay. I’m here and you’re not alone. These thoughts and feelings, they’re going to stabilise and you’ll be in a much better headspace by the time we get you up to see Jus.”
At some point in the last few minutes, Mark had started to get the shakes all over that felt sort of like he was feverish but he had no confidence in reading the signals his body was sending him. Was it another one of these horrific effects of the anti-booze pills he had been taking, or was it because anxiety about every-fucking-thing was coursing through him, kicking up a few notches watching Sam needing to run to the bathroom to throw up. “Everything’s a total fucking mess, Sammy. How do I even start to fix any of this? I thought I was on top of it but I don’t know if I’ve really been on top of anything in a very long time. My kids need— fuck. I told Ali she could send Sunshine over. She said Max would be happy to fly her over because he’s between projects and I gave her the green light to arrange it. This is not… it’s not…”
Sam knew what Mark was trying to say but too emotional to get the words out and he would’ve known even if they hadn’t spoken about it just a couple of days earlier. Mark didn’t want his seven year old daughter seeing him like this. He hadn’t wanted her to see him in any of the state he had gotten himself into lately but Jamie (nicknamed Sunshine by her mum because she had been born with the Campbell light golden/strawberry blonde hair) had been asking to come to Sydney to see her dad and Justin, knowing Justin was in hospital after a bad car accident. She adored her daddy and big brother to all the moons and back, as she would often tell them, and was missing them both. Of course, they wouldn’t tell her what had been happening with Mark because she was too young to understand. But she wasn’t too young to have empathy and care for the people she loved when they were sick and always wanted to help when Justin was sick, even if she didn’t fully understand the way he was sick. “I’ve spoken to Ali, mate. Made an executive twin decision and filled her in because the mother of one of your kids and she should be kept in the loop. She’s going to hold off until you call her and talk to her. Everything really is a mess, Sparky, but we’re all in it together. It’s all hitting us in different ways and I don’t think any of us have a bloody clue about how to sort through it, so we fly blind together and take each step as it comes. For now, that’s getting Jus back out of psych as soon as we can. They won’t do that until they can assess that he’s stabilised and I don’t think he’ll be able to until he sees you’re not dead.”
Mark nodded, this being one of those many, many countless times he was glad he was an identical twin. He wouldn’t function in life not being one. Sam always had his back and he always had Sam’s. Neither of them knew a world not being an identical twin. Sometimes, that was hard for not twins to fathom on any level. Whenever he was too incapacitated to cope, he knew Sam would step up, no questions asked and for this particular thing with his kids, he would never have words to express how thankful he was that his kids got an uncle like Sam. “Did you tell Ali I was drinking? I don’t want her to think I’m unable to care for Sunshine. I don’t know if Jus is going to just be able to pull through a psychotic episode quickly this time. He might not stay in an acute episode but the psychosis might stick for awhile with everything he’s going through. Have you talked to Lex about how the psychosis looks with Jus? Poor kid, I fucking hate that I can’t shield him from it all.”
“Ali knows you more than most people in this world, mate, and she was with you through some of your worst moments. Your daughter was born in the midst of your first breakdown. She also happens to be married to a recovering alcoholic. If you were drinking, Ali’s the last person who would judge you. But of course I didn’t say that because I didn’t know what happened and despite the hint of doubt that there was still a chance you were unwell enough to drink, I still didn’t think you would. I didn’t believe that you wouldn’t have jeopardised being there for Justin’s vital physio session, so I knew in my gut there was less chance you did drink than what you did and I’m a doctor, so I know antabuse can react to more than just swallowing alcohol. Only you could clarify either way, though, and I didn’t have to say anything about any of it to Ali, she was a step ahead of me and just worried how you were. There’s something I need to reassure you of, though, and I’ll keep reassuring you as much as you need to hear it… No matter how ill you are, how much you’re struggling and in limbo until you respond to treatment, no one thinks you’re a bad father or incapable of being a good parent to your kids. This does not rob you of that, Sparky. I’m not going to let it. You can still try to shield him from as much as you can.” Sam didn’t know how receptive Mark would be to what he was saying but he knew it was his biggest fear above all else.
He took his phone out of his pocket to double check he hadn’t accidentally missed a call or text from Alexis or his family about Justin. A notification-free screen was always the best at a time like this. “I touched on the most important points with her and let her ask any questions. But like always with Jus, it’s difficult to know how he’ll be after it. Sometimes, he’s come out of it just wiped out and disengaged, other times, he’s been manic and agitated trying to crawl the walls thinking someone is trying to murder him and his family. All this is a new type of trauma for him, everything with Sash, it’s hard to know how his mind might turn with the psychosis. By the time he had escalated significantly, he was screaming to ‘Keep him away from me’, and we can only assume he means Sash. What more it could mean, it’s open to interpretation. Jus himself probably won’t know once he’s through it. I told Lex to just try to stay calm, because it’s the best way to anchor him. He responds to other people’s stress and emotions.”
As hard as it was to process everything with how horrible he was feeling, Mark was listening to every word Sam was saying. That was the best way for him to anchor. Sam was his other half, the Yin to his Yang and he trusted him to care for his family when he was too sick to step up. But it was suddenly all feeling like just a bit too much and for that, he understood why his son got tipped over the edge. He wished he didn’t have first-hand experience of those feelings now because it really did make him feel like he was destined to forever fuck up being a father and it was hard to accept it was his own illness talking. He closed his eyes briefly with a ragged exhalation. “I’m tired, Sammy. I’m so fucking tired.”
Sam put his hand on Mark’s shoulder with a gentle pat. “I know, mate. Me too. Just rest. It’s okay to rest. We’ll get through it. We always do.”
LOG, COMPLETE
What: Chain Reaction
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
By the time Mark managed to wake up with more lucidity to comprehend what was going on, Sam was nearly falling asleep sitting at his bedside in the hospital. The lights in the room were dimmed and Sam had his elbow resting on the edge of the mattress with his head propped up on his hand but he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He watched as his twin managed some slow and groggy blinks as he tried to get his bearings.
“Sammy…” Mark croaked and tried to clear his throat, becoming aware he had an oxygen mask on and he was definitely in a hospital bed. He hadn’t hallucinated that some shit had gone down. The last thing he really had a clear memory of was being with Justin in the rehab gym and beginning to feel really sick with pains in his chest, then not much of anything else but a suffocating sense of foreboding.
Sam offered a faint smile but he was just too bloody wiped out to manage much else, though there was a rush of relief that flooded through him seeing Mark was awake and finally aware of his surroundings. He had been drifting in and out but not really with it and it was just a matter of waiting until Mark’s system could clear the effects of the drug interaction. “Did you drink, Sparky? No sense beating around the bush. I have to ask.”
Confusion fell across Mark’s face and he frowned, not following. “Booze? Fuck, no. Why—” He stopped to wet his lips, the oxygen making him feel dehydrated and parched. “Didn’t I… it’s not something with my heart?”
“It was. Just not the direct cause. You had an Antabuse reaction. So, I had to ask. If you didn’t drink, we thought maybe you got distracted and used hand sanitiser when you got to the hospital. If you used it multiple times, the clinical strength of it could’ve triggered the reaction in your system and you just lucked out and it hit you hard. But you know I had to check first. Because if you did drink, we can’t ignore that.” Sam knew just looking at Mark’s face, though, that he wasn’t concealing anything. He was genuinely confused. “Whatever the case, we need to stop the Antabuse, Sparky. It stressed your heart too much.”
“I— before I needed to be here for my son? Are you for fucking real? Fuck. Where is he? Does he think I had booze? Shit.” Mark reflexively grabbed the edge of the blankets, readying to push them aside so he could get up. “Fucking hand sanitiser… —the fuck?”
Sam stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Just keep your arse there. You’re not getting up yet. You can’t tax your heart. You need to rest until your system has a chance to recover. Justin’s been admitted to the acute adolescent psych unit. He lost his shit when he thought you were having a heart attack and dying. It triggered a psychotic episode.” He held Mark’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I know you wouldn’t have had booze. But you know I did have to ask. Do you remember if you used sanitiser?”
“Fuck. Fuck. Been trying to prevent that since he got here. Need to see him. He won’t believe I’m okay otherwise. Lemme fucking get to my kid, Sammy…” Mark was too weak to fight Sam with it and Sam was barely resisting him. Even just that very brief attempt to argue, he was left breathless and struggling to even move his arms, they felt weak and jelly-like. It told him that he probably was actually pretty unwell and shouldn’t be moving, even if he didn’t understand what the fuck happened to land him in a hospital bed. “Jesus fucking Christ. Yeah, maybe? Probably. Don’t remember. But I remember I didn’t have booze. I’m trying to bloody get better. I wouldn’t have done that to my kid. I was stressed about him getting up on the parallel bars but I didn’t drink. How is he? Who’s with him? Tell me what happened.”
“Gen and Lexi are with him. Well, they’re up at the unit anyway, until the next visiting hour window. He’s not doing well, mate. He was awake briefly but he still had disordered thinking and seemed to get distressed when they asked if he wanted to see mums, so the psych thought it best to keep family at a distance for the moment. They couldn’t ascertain why he was getting upset but it was an intense reaction at the mention of family. When they mentioned Sash, he completely shut down. He was wiped out and dissociating, not engaging at all. Not even eye contact. They want to keep him medicated for now, but not sedated. When I saw him, he was barely awake and just staring into space. They’re monitoring him and need to keep him safe for now, until they can better assess him.” Sam paused and took a deep breath, trying not to bombard Mark with everything. He wasn’t happy with the readings on the cardiac monitor yet. Mark needed more time to recover. “He hurt Shea, but it was an accident. Jus reflexively tried to stand to help you and Shea made the error of trying to stop him because he was closest to him at the time while Jus was agitated and escalating.”
Mark pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to dodge that all too familiar feeling of dread set in. “A closed ward? Suicide watch?” His eyes fell closed and his posture deflated with a heavy sigh. “How badly is Shea hurt? The kid probably didn’t know about Justin’s issues with touch when he’s crook. I don’t know what Jus has talked to Shea about but they have talked. I’d say mostly about Sash. I remember him being at the gym with Jus when I got there. Shit, I… just… walk me through what fucking happened. How sick was I to set Jus off like that? Wait. Why are you here? You should be home resting.”
Sam was back to propping his head up with his hand and just gave his twin a tired look with a slow blink. “Fuck off, home resting when you’re nearly dropping dead. Stop being a dickwad, you know why I’m here and I’m sick of trying to push back when people ask me that. I’ll be home in bed when I’m not needed here.” He left it at that because he didn’t want to get upset, but there was no doubt about the fact he was struggling with everyone reminding him he needed to rest like it wasn’t something he was constantly aware of in every inch of his body inside and out right now. “I only know what happened secondhand via Shea and what the physios told the emergency staff. Justin pushed him off with a lot of force once he was in that fight or flight mode and Shea hit the ground pretty hard. He broke his wrist because it took the brunt of the fall and he banged his head on the corner of one of the physio beds. It knocked him out briefly so they kept him in overnight for observation, which was a good call because he started having moderate concussion symptoms. They said not long after you arrived and just as the physio was about to get Jus up on the bars, you turned a horrible colour, were sweating profusely, and struggling to breathe. You vomited and collapsed, losing consciousness rapidly and when the physio called a Code Blue, something must’ve just snapped in Jus. He hasn’t been well since Sash woke, this was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s no one’s fault. You need to be strong for him, Sparky, not fall into a pit of despair and guilt.”
It was moments like these Mark knew why he would never survive in this world without his twin. He didn’t know a world where he wasn’t one. Sam had been with him for every single moment of his life from literally conception and Mark knew oftentimes, when he was barely a functioning human that the reason he still had a heartbeat was because of Sam. Sam knew him better than he knew himself and although it didn’t happen blatantly very often, there were times Mark needed Sam to pre-emptively call him out on something to cockblock him from letting his mind make stupid calls that could make a situation worse. The fact they now knew Mark’s mind was complicated by the same mental illness as his son — though he knew he would never understand the complex severity of Justin’ condition, being complicated by C-PTSD and trauma-induced psychotic episodes — meant he needed the backup from his twin when it came to emotional and mental challenges more than ever. What Sam just said to him was exactly what Mark needed to hear. They both knew it. Although he just looked at Sam in silence through a lengthy pause, he soon nodded slowly. “You’re right, Sammy. I can’t even just fucking fake my way through it either. He needs to know I’ve actually got his back. That I’ve still got it even if this is apparently bipolar too. You need to figure out a way to convince them I need to get up there so he can see me in the flesh. Whatever it takes. What’s Al say? Has he assessed him? They need to know Al can give them more insight into Jus’ psyche than any medical record can.”
“As soon as we know you’re safe to be disconnected from the cardiac monitors, Sparky. Not until then. You need to clear the toxins a bit more. You’ve been really fucking crook and you’re not out of the dangerzone yet. The treating cardiologist and I both agree on that. Even then, we’ll have to check to make sure you haven’t caused any further cardiac damage. It’s really a miracle you didn’t have an infarction and it was only because the crash team could get to you so quickly that prevented it. Just observing everything how it played out, I’m actually wondering if the reason Jus got so distressed when they asked if he wanted to see his mums was because his paranoid thoughts maybe had him convinced they were coming to tell him you were dead. All roads lead back there with him but that’s not unfamiliar territory for us, knowing how his psychosis presents.” Sam pursed his lips wryly with a quirk of an eyebrow at his brother. “Al was too indisposed to even assess his own reflection in a mirror. His night out with the squadron lads was apparently a raging success. Pretty sure he was more hungover than we saw him after his twenty-first. Another Campbell bloke with impeccable timing.”
Mark momentarily looked up at the ceiling, which is when he realised even his eyeballs were hurting. His body felt like it was in the aftermath of being on fire. He couldn’t tell if he felt sick because he was in a lot of pain or just felt sick because of the drug that set off a catastrophic chain reaction in his body. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done his research about the drug and what would happen if he drank alcohol. He had been that deadly serious about not drinking. Hell, he even fucking knew that anything with alcohol that could be absorbed into the body could cause a reaction but there was no doubt about the fact that when he arrived at the hospital for Justin’s physio session, the only thing on his mind was his son. He was worried Justin wouldn’t cope trying to hold himself up on the bars and that could mean his projected rehab timeframe was more prolonged than hoped. He was scared for Justin’s emotional stability in recent days the longer he tried to connect with Sash and hit a brick wall. If he’d used bloody hand sanitiser inadvertently, it was because it was the last thing on his mind. What a fucking tragic outcome one small dumb mistake had. His own emotional instability couldn’t be ignored. “The irony of Al on the piss when this happened is not bloody lost on me…” he mumbled, trying to wet his lips which were chafed and sore. He attempted to look over his shoulder at the head of the bed but the slight movement wasn’t a good idea. “Am I allowed to drink anything? I’m dry as a dingo’s nutsuck. Wouldn’t surprise me if those are the tricks Jus’ mind is playing on him but he also sees himself as a threat after a psychotic episode and sees others as a threat to him while he’s psychotic. He hasn’t had a psychotic episode in so long, his brain might not even comprehend the two mums being referred to are Gen and Lex. He might think it’s Gen and the dead cunt. Ah, fuck, Sammy. It’s Lex’s first crack at this, isn’t it? Jesus Christ. Is she holding up okay?”
Knowing Mark was allowed some fluids if he could tolerate them, Sam opened one of the bottles of water left and put a straw into it, sitting forward to take Mark’s oxygen mask off so he could hold the straw to his mouth for a drink. “Just take slow small sips until we know you can keep it down. Shit, I didn’t even think of that. Until we know more, it’s probably best to hold off on any other intervention until you can see him. She’s not in a good place. I think she’s in a bit of shock seeing him restrained and in a secure ward. They let her sit with him while he was under sedation. She’s going through everything you did the first time you faced it. The guilt, the fear, the regret. There’s nothing I can do to cushion the blow for her and I feel terrible about it. I wish I’d thought to prepare her more but she says it wouldn’t have done much anyway because it was near impossible for her to fathom how truly bad it is. Just breaks my fucking heart that she’s blaming herself again, for falling ill when he was born. It’s the worst outcome for everyone. We were all trying to prevent this happening to him but he’s been unstable mentally since the accident happened and I know it hasn’t been easy to gauge how he is because he masks a lot of the time. All any of us can do is try to keep our heads above water for him.”
The water was soothing but after only a few sips, Mark’s gut warned him to stop. “How’s Sash? When I last spoke to Martin and Mhari, they both admitted they were fearful about the fact Jus had only been able to make some leeway with his music. They really hoped there’d be more progress. They’re trying to just take it day by day but it’s hard not to worry about what their future was going to look like, how disabled Sash might end up being. You don’t want to say too much of that shit out loud because it feels like you’ll will it into reality. I should talk to them.”
“It’s okay. They’re holding up okay. They know what happened and just want us to focus on you and Justin right now. They’re just treading water with Sash. He’s asking where Justin is and seems confused why he’s suddenly not visiting. If nothing else, Jus seems to give him some comfort. Sash doesn’t get distressed when Justin’s there. It’s possible that’s some subconscious recollection happening or Jus is just really good at putting him at ease like he is with any unwell person he meets with his charity work. They’re telling Sash that Justin’s not well and if Sash asks any questions, they’ll figure it out. Sash is still struggling with forming cohesive thoughts to know what to ask a majority of the time. You need to rest, Sparky. Jeezus.” Sam squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger, not managing to stifle a sigh escaping.
“You need to go home to bed,” Mark chastised softly, even carefully. He was pretty sure he might nudge Sam to the proverbial straw breaking the camel’s back if he tried to push too much. It wasn’t lost on him that his twin looked severely drained and pale. Probably the worst Mark had seen him in a long time and now he was watching him closely, it was scaring him. Since his cancer diagnosis, Sam had been insistent his form of cancer was mild and extremely treatable with an impressive success rate. But he still needed chemo and radiotherapy. “I’m pretty sure you’re looking as bad as I must be, Sammy. Are you okay?”
Sam gave a slight shake of his head. “Not really. I’m on chemo and I’ve been tapping into your twin shit for the last twenty-four hours. Pretty sure if I try to stand up, I’m going to pass out. It’s okay. I don’t feel crook all the time. It comes and goes, passes eventually. I can’t go home yet. I need to just… be here and know you’re okay for a bit. So bloody humour me. Once you’re able to see Jus, I’ll go home to bed. You have my word.”
“Alright,” Mark quietly agreed. “I could be tapping into your twin shit too, you know. Maybe we’re just hurling it back and forth to each other.”
“Well, there’s definitely hurling of some sort involved,” Sam snorted and now he had monitored Mark long enough to be satisfied he still had a pulse and a living breath — for now, at least — he slumped down in the chair to use the backrest as a pillow. Even if it was hard as a rock, it was backup for his aching neck that felt too inadequate to hold his head up.
“Sammy, you should go home. Gen can—”
“Gen’s beside herself,” Sam cut in, giving Mark an uncharacteristically sharp look, even through the exhaustion. “You haven’t been talking to her. Or communicating much at all, really. It’s not fair, Mark. You promised her on your kid’s life that if you ever felt yourself slipping again, you would tell her. You wrote it into your wedding vows when you were swearing to each other you wouldn’t fuck up that second chance. Not only does she feel like she’s failed Justin because he won’t open up to her, she feels like she’s failed you too. Gen shouldn’t have to go through any of this alone and it’s selfish to expect her to, or that she even has the strength too.”
Mark stared at his twin, taken aback enough to fall into a lingering silence. “I didn’t drink.”
With a heavy sigh of frustration, Sam shook his head, back to trying to squeeze the ache burning between his temples. “I’m not talking the booze, Sparky. I’m talking about everything. Just because this isn’t Gen’s first rodeo with you and Justin, that doesn’t automatically mean she’s equipped to handle this horrible situation. You promised you would talk to her, right after the accident when you admitted you’d been on the piss again, and you haven’t kept that. She feels like she’s at this precipice of a lifetime in this vicious cycle where any time you have a bipolar episode yourself, you’re going to completely shutdown and pull away from her. And I know, Sparky… I know you’re crook and you need time to process and accept your diagnosis, but she’s your wife. She shouldn’t have to be getting any of this about you or Justin secondhand via us.”
This time, Mark really was speechless and that was rare for him. However, as that thought came to him as he struggled to wrap his head around the reality check Sam was hitting him with, he realised losing his ability to verbalise what he was feeling could be a symptom of this mental illness he spent portions of his life with without consciousness to it. Lately, he had so much more awareness of what his son must have battled with before he was diagnosed with bipolar too and Justin had been in a chaotic and traumatised mess when he found Mark. Mark knew almost immediately that he had to get his kid medical help, no matter what it took, but he hadn’t been able to see any of it in himself. He had already been diagnosed with what they originally thought was cyclothymia, a similar condition to bipolar but much more mild in how it presented. Taking an antidepressant and seeing a therapist regularly to manage stress was all he thought he had to do. Maybe ultimately, all that ended up being was an excuse to bury his head in the sand, convince himself his issues were sorted and handled so he could focus on taking care of his kids. “I’m… um, I… I’m scared she’s going to wake up one day and regret remarrying me. I sold her a fucking faulty product, who could blame her? I just can’t say that to her. It makes it sound like I think she’s too weak to handle it. That’s not what I mean,” he tried to explain and his voice wavered then broke with choked up emotion.
“In any other situation, I’d maybe agree that you had a point but this time I’m too drained to beat around the bush, Sparky. That’s bullshit, okay? You need to hear that it’s bullshit. You want to know why? Because if you believe that, it’s almost as sure as saying you think your son is a faulty product and I know you’d as soon as try to end your life prematurely again than ever think that of your boy. Which is why I can’t sit here and validate you when you say it about yourself. Nor can I let you believe that your wife thinks that in any way, shape or form. She doesn’t. All she wants is you to let her in and let her take care of you when you’re crook. You know she can because you’ve watched her do it for your son. I know you would do the same for her and I know you hold this skewed ideal in your head that you need to protect everyone, but we’re past the use-by date on that, mate. She will cut her losses, though, if you make her believe there’s nothing there to fight for by not letting her in. It’s different with Jus, he shuts down when he’s unwell and I know that’s something you probably share with him. But Gen needs to be the exception to the rule, just like you let me be because I’m your twin.” Sam was beginning to feel nauseous again, so he felt around in his jacket pocket for the strip of anti-nausea meds he was carrying on him and washed a couple down with a few sips of water.
Mark watched Sam take the pills but he knew if he asked him if he was okay again, Sam would deflect. That was definitely a Campbell trait. Sam might be more of the calm peacekeeper in the family but he could be stubborn too when he needed to be. “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m doing it again. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I can’t… think. I try, but it’s like nothing is getting through. My head feels like it’s full of cement. It’s not the same as Jus, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s in overdrive, it feels like it’s fucking ground to a halt. I know how to be a dad to someone with bipolar. I don’t know how to have it myself. I don’t. And I wish to fucking hell my wife didn’t need to deal with this when she’s already been through so much pain with Paris and her mum being sick.” He put both his hands up to his cheeks, really not sure if it was his own pain or Sam’s he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was relentless. “I can’t just stop wanting to protect her or anyone in my family. That includes from me. Especially from me.”
“It’s the same as Justin when he’s having a depressive episode, mate. You can’t liken what you’re feeling to what you see him go through because you’re struggling with denial about your diagnosis. You know how to take care of your son no matter what he’s dealing with, but you don’t know how to let people do the same for you. I’m not having a go at you for that, Sparky. That’d make me a hypocrite because I’m dealing with something similar right now. But the more we resist, the harder it is for the people around us. The cold hard truth is that your wife is in this with you for the good, the bad, and the ugly and you’re forgetting that just because you’ve only been recently diagnosed, Gen’s still cared for you when you’ve been unwell. You guys make a great team and it’s not fair for you to pull the plug on that and force her to try to go it alone. Not just dealing with you being sick, but still trying to shoulder Justin’s rocky recovery and rehab with this accident. It’s looking like it’s going to set him right back and even if this triggered a psychotic episode, we all know he’s been on the precipice since the accident happened and they both nearly died.” Sam laced his fingers together and rested his chin against his clasped hands to quietly contemplate his twin before continuing. “How can you protect anyone when you’re not strong enough yourself? Maybe the time’s well past for protection anyway. The shit is happening. All we can do is deal with it. You need to stick with your therapy to find ways to help you redirect this mindset or you’ll never find your footing with being a dad, a husband, a brother, a son. All you’ll be able to think of yourself as is a failure and you’re not. You’re not more of a failure than Justin is. Shit, I’m going to spew. Fuck’s sake—” He clamped his hand over his mouth, dragging himself out of the chair so he could make a run for the attached bathroom. Thank god for private hospital rooms.
Mark knew Sam probably didn’t realise he had been looking more and more green around the gills as he walked Mark through these vital reality checks, so he wasn’t really surprised his twin had to concede defeat to the chemo nausea again. He really struggled with overwhelming sensations of uselessness and helplessness when the people he cared about more than life were suffering. It was impossible not to feel guilty that he had gotten himself into such a mess when they needed him the most. He could see Sam through the bathroom door, on his knees hunched over the toilet and it was like a heavy underscore of all the things his twin was just trying to gently but seriously coach him through. “I don’t know how to get back up this time, Sammy…” he finally admitted once he heard Sam get through the worst of his vomiting bout.
Sam flushed the toilet and went to the basin to rinse his mouth out and wash his hands thoroughly. It was hard not to fall into surgeon habits of scrubbing when he was in a hospital and he was now ultra-conscious of using hand sanitiser near Mark, even if it was only an issue if absorbed into Mark’s system. When he came back to Mark’s beside, he sat on the edge of the chair, not yet convinced he wouldn’t need to vacate it rapidly again soon. “You do, Sparky. And it’s lying up a couple of floors on a psych hold, and probably tucked up in bed in a very enthusiastically-decorated Finding Nemo themed bedroom. Your precious, precious kids are how you get back up again, Sparky. It might be one of the hardest things you ever do, but you’ll do it. No matter what your fractured mind tells you when you’re feeling at your worst, those kids need you more than words can express.”
“It should’ve been you, Sammy. You should’ve been the one who got to be a dad and you’d never have fucked it up like I have. What the hell have I done to my son that he is so terrified of me dropping dead on him that he ends up on an involuntary psych hold? It shouldn’t be like this. I’m harming him and I don’t know how the fuck to fix it. I can’t promise him I won’t die because it feels like I’m going to or… or… something.” Mark pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, what is going on in my head?”
“Hey, listen to me, mate.” Sam put hand on Mark’s leg but didn’t coax him to stop trying to squeeze his eyeballs out. He had seen Justin do similar sorts of gestures when he was having episodes and it felt like his mind was spiralling. “This is still the reaction to the drug, okay? A sense of dread or a fear of dying is one of the psychological symptoms that can hit, in a bevy of other physical and mental side effects. You just need to weather it until it clears from your system. You’re going to be okay. I’m here and you’re not alone. These thoughts and feelings, they’re going to stabilise and you’ll be in a much better headspace by the time we get you up to see Jus.”
At some point in the last few minutes, Mark had started to get the shakes all over that felt sort of like he was feverish but he had no confidence in reading the signals his body was sending him. Was it another one of these horrific effects of the anti-booze pills he had been taking, or was it because anxiety about every-fucking-thing was coursing through him, kicking up a few notches watching Sam needing to run to the bathroom to throw up. “Everything’s a total fucking mess, Sammy. How do I even start to fix any of this? I thought I was on top of it but I don’t know if I’ve really been on top of anything in a very long time. My kids need— fuck. I told Ali she could send Sunshine over. She said Max would be happy to fly her over because he’s between projects and I gave her the green light to arrange it. This is not… it’s not…”
Sam knew what Mark was trying to say but too emotional to get the words out and he would’ve known even if they hadn’t spoken about it just a couple of days earlier. Mark didn’t want his seven year old daughter seeing him like this. He hadn’t wanted her to see him in any of the state he had gotten himself into lately but Jamie (nicknamed Sunshine by her mum because she had been born with the Campbell light golden/strawberry blonde hair) had been asking to come to Sydney to see her dad and Justin, knowing Justin was in hospital after a bad car accident. She adored her daddy and big brother to all the moons and back, as she would often tell them, and was missing them both. Of course, they wouldn’t tell her what had been happening with Mark because she was too young to understand. But she wasn’t too young to have empathy and care for the people she loved when they were sick and always wanted to help when Justin was sick, even if she didn’t fully understand the way he was sick. “I’ve spoken to Ali, mate. Made an executive twin decision and filled her in because the mother of one of your kids and she should be kept in the loop. She’s going to hold off until you call her and talk to her. Everything really is a mess, Sparky, but we’re all in it together. It’s all hitting us in different ways and I don’t think any of us have a bloody clue about how to sort through it, so we fly blind together and take each step as it comes. For now, that’s getting Jus back out of psych as soon as we can. They won’t do that until they can assess that he’s stabilised and I don’t think he’ll be able to until he sees you’re not dead.”
Mark nodded, this being one of those many, many countless times he was glad he was an identical twin. He wouldn’t function in life not being one. Sam always had his back and he always had Sam’s. Neither of them knew a world not being an identical twin. Sometimes, that was hard for not twins to fathom on any level. Whenever he was too incapacitated to cope, he knew Sam would step up, no questions asked and for this particular thing with his kids, he would never have words to express how thankful he was that his kids got an uncle like Sam. “Did you tell Ali I was drinking? I don’t want her to think I’m unable to care for Sunshine. I don’t know if Jus is going to just be able to pull through a psychotic episode quickly this time. He might not stay in an acute episode but the psychosis might stick for awhile with everything he’s going through. Have you talked to Lex about how the psychosis looks with Jus? Poor kid, I fucking hate that I can’t shield him from it all.”
“Ali knows you more than most people in this world, mate, and she was with you through some of your worst moments. Your daughter was born in the midst of your first breakdown. She also happens to be married to a recovering alcoholic. If you were drinking, Ali’s the last person who would judge you. But of course I didn’t say that because I didn’t know what happened and despite the hint of doubt that there was still a chance you were unwell enough to drink, I still didn’t think you would. I didn’t believe that you wouldn’t have jeopardised being there for Justin’s vital physio session, so I knew in my gut there was less chance you did drink than what you did and I’m a doctor, so I know antabuse can react to more than just swallowing alcohol. Only you could clarify either way, though, and I didn’t have to say anything about any of it to Ali, she was a step ahead of me and just worried how you were. There’s something I need to reassure you of, though, and I’ll keep reassuring you as much as you need to hear it… No matter how ill you are, how much you’re struggling and in limbo until you respond to treatment, no one thinks you’re a bad father or incapable of being a good parent to your kids. This does not rob you of that, Sparky. I’m not going to let it. You can still try to shield him from as much as you can.” Sam didn’t know how receptive Mark would be to what he was saying but he knew it was his biggest fear above all else.
He took his phone out of his pocket to double check he hadn’t accidentally missed a call or text from Alexis or his family about Justin. A notification-free screen was always the best at a time like this. “I touched on the most important points with her and let her ask any questions. But like always with Jus, it’s difficult to know how he’ll be after it. Sometimes, he’s come out of it just wiped out and disengaged, other times, he’s been manic and agitated trying to crawl the walls thinking someone is trying to murder him and his family. All this is a new type of trauma for him, everything with Sash, it’s hard to know how his mind might turn with the psychosis. By the time he had escalated significantly, he was screaming to ‘Keep him away from me’, and we can only assume he means Sash. What more it could mean, it’s open to interpretation. Jus himself probably won’t know once he’s through it. I told Lex to just try to stay calm, because it’s the best way to anchor him. He responds to other people’s stress and emotions.”
As hard as it was to process everything with how horrible he was feeling, Mark was listening to every word Sam was saying. That was the best way for him to anchor. Sam was his other half, the Yin to his Yang and he trusted him to care for his family when he was too sick to step up. But it was suddenly all feeling like just a bit too much and for that, he understood why his son got tipped over the edge. He wished he didn’t have first-hand experience of those feelings now because it really did make him feel like he was destined to forever fuck up being a father and it was hard to accept it was his own illness talking. He closed his eyes briefly with a ragged exhalation. “I’m tired, Sammy. I’m so fucking tired.”
Sam put his hand on Mark’s shoulder with a gentle pat. “I know, mate. Me too. Just rest. It’s okay to rest. We’ll get through it. We always do.”
LOG, COMPLETE