The Glass House: A novel of mental health by Anne Buist & Graeme Simsion

Author:Anne Buist & Graeme Simsion [Buist, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Australia
Published: 2024-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

—

Back in ED, the intern has seen Taylah and done bloods; she’s been given the all clear. She’d taken paracetamol, but it’s below the toxic level. Taylah looks like a softer version of her mother, and softer too than the wannabe biker chick in the waiting room – her sister, Aleesha, I’m guessing.

The psych nurse answers her phone and leaves us.

Taylah looks me up and down. ‘You’re new. Can I see Dr Ashwood?’

Alex must have been the registrar who admitted her last time.

‘I’m afraid he’s not on tonight. I understand you’ve been here before.’

‘Comes from being with my mother in her shitty house.’

‘You have a dad on the scene?’

‘Nah. Mum’s boyfriends are all losers.’

I hear her story of the night’s events. In this version, her mother started it by ordering dinner for everyone but her.

‘My bitch sister calls the cops and Trent takes her side, because … I told Dr Ashwood about what my sister wants to do with him.’ She catches my expression. ‘I mean with Trent, not with Dr Ashwood. She actually said it. Where he could hear.’

Alex took pity on her. I get it.

Taylah starts crying. ‘My life’s a total mess. I started cutting because it helps sometimes, but then I thought I just wanted to die and I grabbed some pills.’

According to the notes, Taylah and Aleesha both had admissions to the adolescent unit and since then several to Acute and Short Stay, all in similar circumstances. As has Kelly.

‘I’m still feeling suicidal,’ Taylah says. She must sense my scepticism, because she adds, ‘I don’t want to be like this, you know.’

The case notes tell me Taylah has a borderline personality disorder; even with my limited experience, I’d have guessed that. She has trouble regulating her emotions, going from calm to hysteria to uncontrollable anger in ten seconds. She’s never been able to trust anyone, let alone herself. She’s seen rejection at every turn, and this service is set up to do it all over again. Nowhere can take her long enough to make a real difference.

Short Stay is the suggested management in her file – but only if absolutely necessary. Three days’ care and containment. Patch up, send off again.

‘What do you think would help, Taylah?’

‘I just … I want to be, like, normal. Have a boyfriend, go out and enjoy ourselves. I just …’ Her voice catches. She looks much younger than she is. ‘Things always go wrong.’

‘Have you had counselling? Like regularly, for weeks, to help you make sense of why? And learn how to change things?’

‘I started,’ says Taylah. ‘But she left. And the guy that replaced her charged a fuck-load. Couldn’t afford it.’

‘Your boyfriend is still waiting to be sutured. Could you go home with him?’

‘His parents threw him out.’

‘What about your mum? If she calms down.’

‘It’ll take her a few days.’

I’m guessing she means three – the maximum time in Short Stay. Taylah knows it’s easier for me to admit her, though I can’t do it just to provide accommodation. I figure she and her boyfriend will work something out there.

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