The seventh of December was covered with snow ...

It's just a coating of snow with some freezing rain to seal it.

We have a friend who is bipolar and who has been, somewhat proudly, off her meds for quite a while. The symptoms are now gently humorous - the visit that lasts a bit too long, the odd gift (two cups of leftover Chinese food), the intense and non-stop talking. Her name showed up in the police log for playing loud music in the middle of the night. We've seen her out in her yard in her bathrobe, tending to the plants, in the chilly early morning darkness. She's been to court because of a parking ticket that she refuses to pay.

She's not a great danger to herself or others, not now, anyway. The threads in her life are starting to fray, though. Her husband moved out (was kicked out, depending on who's telling the story) and won't come back until she accepts help. The parking ticket could result in a revoked driver's license. We wonder how she can pay the bills.

Every illness requires, at some level, the willing participation of the patient in the healing process. Whether we have a broken leg, ALS, or a cold, we have to do the right things that will strengthen us and, to whatever extent possible, make us whole. Many mental illnesses, however, rob the patient of that ability to participate fully in the treatment. Of course, there's no assurance that the meds will be effective or tolerable, either.

Here we tread gingerly, taking care not to judge or presume the right course of treatment. (Even the professionals have to try different combinations of meds to get it right.) Acting with humility is one of the things that we, as adults, have to do.