Campbell's episodes of mania were always difficult to handle. He'd get so high energy that it was hard to keep up with him, bouncing from one thing to the next to the next. He'd chatter away like a sports commentator during a particularly intense game, run around whatever room he happened to be in from one end to the other and back again, picking things up and putting them down in whatever place would hold them, and perhaps worst of all, he'd make rash decisions like spending a ton of money on something or starting to cook only to get distracted.

Today was just one of those days. Left and right and up and down the apartment he went, a motorized ping-pong ball on high. This could not go on. He must've forgotten his meds.

For the time being, you figured the best thing you could do was take him for a walk. Much as you didn't like the idea, (it reminded you of walking a dog and you felt terrible about it) you knew it'd help get some of his energy out. A few laps around the building ought to do it. You didn’t want to take him outside. Too loud and distracting, which, according to your research, was bad. When you came back to where you'd started, you'd offer him some easy-to-eat snacks (peanut butter and crackers, maybe?) and see if you could get him to have a nap. It wouldn't stop him in his tracks, but it was the best you could do to just ride it out with him.

As he rounded the corner like a skinny, yappy tornado, you took a breath and got ready to grab his attention. It was showtime.