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Show 20-5 "Come sit down. I'll explain." He stood up again and went to the sink and poured a glass of water. He drank it and then put the glass carefully on the wooden counter. He turned to face me. I sat down, my books balanced on my knees. "You've heard Mother speak of Eric, her friend." I nodded. He rubbed his face again. "Of course, you have. We talked about him this morning. Have you ever met him at the hospital? Has Andrew . . .?" I shook my head. "No." "Well, last night, he had a bad night and this morning, when we got there, he was so bad that he had to be restrained and he's been . . . " Father paused and looked at me. "He's been taken away to a mental hospital." Father sighed. "Somewhere . . ., a hospital that deals with cases like his. We can't help him. Not at St. John's." "What . . . what's wrong?" "It's hard to explain. It's not physical, not something you can see like most of the men. Like Andrew. His mind has gone, has simply backed away from what he can't face. He just sits and . . . sometimes he gets violent. That's what happened last night. He was reliving times from the war, acting it out. And he's forgotten where he is, who he is now. He has to be medicated, kept asleep, down, so he can't hurt himself." "Did he hurt himself last night?" "Fortunately, no. Some of the men in his ward called help before he got that bad. They've seen it before and knew what was coming on. They've all seen a lot of shell-shock." "You told me about that last night." "Yes, it's a good name for it. With Eric, it was the noise, the guns apparently, because that's what he kept talking about, the noises, the sounds." Father took a |
