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Cathy, Cathy, Where are You?

Florence Clark

 FormatISBN Price  
This Book is Available Paperback (6x9)9781438903637 £ 6.80  
This Book is Available Dust Jacket Hardcover (6x9)9781438903644 £ 11.30  
About the Book
    After 50 years of living Cathy does something most of us do at age twenty-one, she grew up. With the help of her psychiatrist she discovers she had lived her life being all things to all people - parents, husbands and lovers, and, of course, her children. In the process she had lost herself. Join Cathy on this journey through tears and laughter as she discovers her true self.
    Her story begins with a failed attempt at suicide. It is from the bottom of this very dark hole that she must find her way out. Cathy learns that she has lived her life pretending she is on the "Good Ship Lollipop" when she is really on the Titanic. Even though her life has been a very rocky road, God has planted some flowers along the way.
    This story is for all women who wake up in their mid-life and discover they haven't been living.
About the Author
    Florence Clark is an 82 year old woman who lives in Middletown, Connecticut. Miss Clark is legally blind now, but still has a strong desire to be fully involved in life. She began her quest to publish a book over thirty years ago when her psychiatrist asked her, "Why don't you write a book?"
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    “Cathy, Cathy, what did you take besides the Librium?”, a voice said coming to me out of the darkness. “Cathy, answer me.”
    Anger loomed up in me. Why doesn’t he leave me alone?
    “Cathy, what did you take?”
    “Nothing, nothing else," I said hoping he would go away and let me sleep.
    Then the realization came to me  I didn’t even know where I was. “Where am I?”
    “You’re in Griffith Hospital. Why did you do it?” he asked.
    “I was tired of being married to the perfect man," I told him. I was so drugged my eyes were still closed, but I could hear his laugh in the background.
    “I want my minister," I pleaded. Even in my semiconscious state I knew Rev. Conway would be the only one who could console my family. He was the most kind and gentle man I had ever met. Anyone looking into his soft, brown eyes would recognize that he was a man of the cloth.
    “All right Cathy, we’ll get him for you," the doctor assured me.
    As I slept, Rev. Conway came to the hospital. He phoned my husband who was working out of town and explained to him what had happened. Bob’s worry and concern got him to the hospital in record time. The psychiatrist, reacting to my remarks, warned Bob that I might go into hysterics at the very sight of him.
    Waking again, I felt pain in my throat. “What made my throat so sore?” I asked, still with my eyes closed, hoping someone would answer.
    “You had your stomach pumped," came a familiar voice.
    “Is that you, Ann?” I asked, hoping for the closeness of a friend.
    “Yes, you’re going to be alright. The doctors have gone so you can go back to sleep," she said as her warm hand stroked my head. The next thing I remember was a touch on my arm that sent a shock through my whole body and a voice saying, “Hi, I’m Dr. Gallagher, a psychiatrist. I’ve been talking to your husband, I will be back in a while to talk to you.”
    I opened my eyes for the first time. I had to take a look at this man. Everything was blurry. The only things I could see were a red beard and red hair.
    “Go back to sleep," he said.
    It seemed like only minutes before he was back grabbing my arms and pulling me out of bed. He ordered me to dress and said that he wanted to talk to me. I put my hands down to my sides to feel what I was wearing. I didn’t realize that they had taken my clothes and left me in a hospital robe.
    “Wait until I get out of here before you dress," he shouted nervously.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not that out of it that I’m going to dress in front of you.”
    Still blurred I could see his hand lift my white lace nightgown off the bed. His long fingers showed through the lace. Amazed, he asked, “Is this what you came in with?”
    I was surprised, too, forgetting what I had on and felt embarrassed.
    “Help her get dressed,” he said to Ann, “then take her down the hall to the last room on the right.”
    I got into my nightgown and peignoir and was very happy that I had my fur coat which I wrapped tightly around myself.
    Dr. Gallagher sat in front of me. It was the first time my eyes could focus. He was very good looking. His beard and hair were not red but brown with a slight red highlight. He had soft brown eyes and full lips that broke into a beautiful smile. He looked to be about six feet tall and was very thin.