|Eleanor's POV|
--20 minutes later--
"Ford?" a nurse called, stepping out into the waiting room.
"Yes" I waved her down myself and pulled Brandi up with me.
All three of us made our way up to the nurse, who then escorted us to a separate hospital room. After checking Bran out, a few minutes later her doctor came in.
"Good evening" he said, taking a seat in the desk chair. "What seems to be going on?"
"Hi yes, I've been noticing that my daughter goes through a lot of major mood swings" I told him.
"Yes and they are very major. Like she goes from being happy to livid and breathing fire at the snap of a finger. It's absour" Denis piggy backs off of my statement.
"Why do you have to be in here?" Brandi asked him after his comment.
"Is there a problem with me being here. I just wanna get you some help"
"No! You're not my fucking dad and you never will be! Get that through your fucking head!" Brandi snapped.
"Young lady! Don't you talk to an adult like that, you know better. And you better stop cursing or your getting the soap treatment when we get home" I scolded her.
She sat back in her chair and folded her arms in a pout.
"Okay um. Well sir, would you mind stepping out while we do our procedure. Only because I need my patient to be as comfortable as can be" The doctor said to Denis.
"Sure" he replied and got up to step out.
"Now, Brandi is it?" he turned to her.
"Yes.."
"Tell me about your mood swings"
"Um-- I really don't experience my mood swings like the people around me do. To me it's just me...being me"
"Oh okay. Well how about you, mom? How often do she have these mood swings?"
"Often. Almost every day now" I said.
"And how long do they last?"
"Maybe about a few minutes, they're kind of short"
"Hmm. And when did this all start?"
"Well...I remember her switching between happy and sad as early as the age of 5"
"Does she sleep a lot...or maybe not sleep at all?"
"Yes both..."
"How about attention?"
"Yeah Brandi loves her attention" I smiled at her, seeing her blush.
"How is your memory Brandi?" he asked her.
"Bad. I forget things a lot" she shrugged.
"Do you have a lot of friends?"
"Yes and no. Some of them don't like to hang around me all the time. But I do have some friends"
"Hmm. Well these all sound like symptoms of a Bipolar disorder to me. Maybe in some case severe manic depression"
"Depression?" my eyes widened.
"Yes, Bipolar is both being depressed and being extremely happy both at times that's....unrealistic. Which can lead to really bad mood swings, in which I think your daughter is experiencing"
"Wow. I'm...uh...I'm shocked" I said.
"Yeah, it can be shocking. But I would suggest getting this disorder treated now. Even though it's not as dangerous and important like cancer...it still should be treated and tamed"
"Am I going to die?" Brandi asked.
"Not at all, you're not in any danger" he responded to her.
"So what will she need to get this...thing treated?"
"Well, we can start off with maybe therapy. Only because I don't think I should prescribe her medication unless she really needs it at this age"
"Is this really a big deal?" I asked the doctor.
"Yes. This is the real deal..."
"Wow. I only thought being Bipolar was a myth. I didn't think it was real"
"Well sadly it is ma'am and your daughter needs help..."
4 days later
|Brandi's POV|
Getting into the car, I put on my seat belt and watch my mom from out the window as she approached the car. She too got in and immediately wrapped the seatbelt around before she stuffed the key in the ignition.
"Mom, where are we going?" I asked, curious.
"To your therapy session"
"Why do I need to go there again?"
"You're Bipolar Bran, now please...stop asking questions that you're just going to end up forgetting"
"It's not my fault if I have bad memory...you know that" I said, offended by her tone of voice.
"I know but it can be annoying" she said, pulling off from the house.
"You're fucking annoying..." I mumbled to myself underneath my breath.
"Now I didn't hear that but you better not be saying nothing disrespectful"
I sighed out loud and put in my headphones. Damn my mother can really be a bitch sometimes...
*20 minutes Later*
"Good morning honey. What's your name?" some random lady came up to me and my mom in the waiting room. She had brown mocha skin with black piercing eyes to stare at you closely. She was kind of on the thick side too...and her shoes were a little too small from the way they stretched out when she walked.
I looked her up and down as if I was offended, not answering her question. I don't talk to strangers so...
"Hi I'm Eleanor, Brandi's mother. Are you Miss Cooke?"
"Yes I most certainly am. I'm ready to see her now"
"Okay then...go ahead sweetie" my mom pushed me away to go with the brown lady.
I then followed her down the hall and into this little office covered in drawings and emotion charts. She took a seat behind the only desk, leaving me to sit in the chair right in front of the desk itself.
"Brandi right?" she smiled.
"Yes..." I looked around.
"I'm Miss Cooke, your therapist. Have you ever been in therapy before?"
"Nope"
"Well it's a really nice way to clear your head and get whatever it is off your chest. Now I'm not here to judge you, I'm just here to listen and maybe give you some advice"
"Mm"
"How old are you, Brandi?"
"12"
"Oh okay. Do you like school? You're in the 6th grade, right?"
"Yes and I do like school but...I'm a have to leave it anyways" I shrugged.
"Why is that?"
"My mom wants me to move with her and her boyfriend to Atlanta. And he's even bringing his kids with him there" I pouted.
"How you feel about that?"
"I hate it. I fuckin' hate him and his ugly-ass kids. He's not even my dad so why do I have to live with him"
"Why do you hate him so much?"
"Because treats me like I'm his child, when I'm not. He's always telling me what to do and punishing me when I don't do what he wants me to. I just really hate that guy. He will never be my dad. And he needs to fuckin' know that"
"Did you ever tell your mom about how you feel about him"
"Yes and she doesn't care. That's her boyfriend so why would she..."
"Well you're her daughter so.."
"It doesn't make a difference. She's a bitch just like him. They don't even....support me....with my issue. They just judge me and pressure me to get help...like I'm mental" I looked away, feeling sad now about the truth.
"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'll support you. And help you the best way I can" she smiled.
I smiled too and blushed from smiling so hard. "Thank you"