Of broken brains

The brain is a remarkably complex, fragile and mysterious organ. I have two people in my life who are wrestling with brain issues. It's confusing and depressing.

Henry is back in the hospital. He hasn't had another seizure, as I'd assumed. This is worse, I'm afraid. Thursday afternoon (Thanksgiving Day) he became "aggressive" with his husband, Reg, and Reg called the police. As I understand it, he will be held for four days to ascertain if he is a danger to himself or others. Since Sundays and holidays don't count, I am guessing I won't hear anything about him until Tuesday or Wednesday.

I treasure that last Wednesday, when Henry heard about the 60th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination from CNN, he insisted to Reg that he had to call me for my birthday. That means that he still knows and understands who I am. I'm sorry that he was so agitated when we spoke. He was weary and angry about cell phone reception and was barely himself. His condition declined so rapidly over the summer -- some days he can't get out of bed or go to the bathroom himself, other days he's physically improved but confused as to where/who he is, and he can no longer do things like shave or use his phone by himself anymore -- so I must be grateful for his moments of lucidity, no matter how stilted or awkward.

Since the accident, I have been certain to always tell Henry I love him, that I am forever on his side. I keep thinking of what Matt LeBlanc wrote after Matthew Perry died: "Spread your wings and fly, Brother, you're finally free." 

I do not say this lightly, but I truly hope that God sees fit to call Henry home soon. Henry was raised Catholic and attended a non-denominational Christian church in Key West every Sunday. I know his faith is strong. I know Heaven is where he believes he will go. Because, deep inside, he remains such a  loving person, I am also certain that Heaven is his ultimate destination.

I know God has a plan. Over the last five years since Henry's accident, I personally have grown and learned a great deal. I've gone from stubborn insistence that he could/would get better to humbly accepting and loving him in his current condition. I'm sure everyone whose life Henry has touched has gone through a journey of self-discovery. While I don't blame God for Henry's accident -- it was Henry's fault -- I believe that all Henry has taught us is the Lord's way of taking lemons and making lemonade.

But I think of Henry in that psychiatric hospital -- alternately angry and confused, always vulnerable -- and I hope that his time here is short. Henry always said I was his "true sister," the one God wanted him to have all along. I agree. And I hope someday soon I can say, "Spread your wings and fly, Brother, you're finally free." And thank you. Every time I think of Henry now, I must be sure to send up a prayer of thanks for the love, the support and kindness he was always showered on me since we met in 1992. I truly believe no one on earth has ever loved me as much, or always seen the best in me as often, as Henry has. What a lucky Gal I am!

Kathy, on the other hand ... She has been in the grips of Alzheimers or dementia or something for at least four years now. She is surrounded by her adult grandchildren, but they are all in their 20s and frankly not attentive to Nana. I don't know that I blame them. I believe she is the responsibility of her daughter, who is supposedly monitoring the situation from Denver but doing precious little.

As her world gets smaller, Kathy has tightened her grip on me electronically. Social media posts, texts, emails ... all of them disturbing. Embarrassing. Annoying. For example, on my birthday I posted a photo of myself and my friend Joanna smiling at the entrance to Christkindlemarket, where we celebrated my birthday. How does Kathy respond? 

"Pinch Joanna for me. Hee hee. Ho ho."

Now why would I do that? I'm not in the habit of pinching people and Joanna has never met Kathy. So I deleted the comment. But I was annoyed. I don't want to have to explain to Joanna who Kathy is or why Kathy wants me to pinch her.

Today, I mentioned that I did a lot of shopping locally for Small Business Saturday. I acknowledged that I was day late giving a shout out to my neighborhood stores, but I blamed it on my cold. "I blame everything on this cold," I said. How does Kathy respond?

"I also have a deeply dedicated COLD way far west which I have chosen not to share with anyone so I wander (fully face nose/mouth covered) thru empty lanes in the earliest emptiest hours... YeP life's a HooT {I also have miles of open empty land}."

So now I get to worry about my addled friend wandering snowy streets alone at night. I resent that.

I've considered blocking her on Facebook, but then I'd get those emails and texts that I receive when I don't interact with her regularly. Where am I? Why aren't we connected? Are "they" intercepting her online communications?

I wish I had the compassion for her that I have for Henry, but I don't. As I mentioned in this post, Kathy and I have had a complicated relationship that was fraught long before her cognitive decline. I'm annoyed. I also suppose I'm afraid I'll end up like her, like she's my Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. 

I'm sick of the nonsensical social media posts, the pathetic and paranoid emails, the pointless texts. I just wish she'd leave me alone. 

I dislike myself for that admission.

I wonder what God is trying to teach me through Kathy. Perhaps it's that my power to influence those around me has limits and I have to let go. That's what our friend John keeps telling me: I have to develop "a shield" so Kathy can't "get to me" emotionally.

How I long for the olden days, back in the 80s and 90s, when all we talked about was who fucking whom and when our careers would finally take off!