Thursday Thirteen #338

 13 things my friend Henry loves. He is the hospital right now, after having undergone two separate surgeries on his brain. His prognosis is not good. But I am trying to send love his way in every way I can. And so here goes.

1. Church music. His favorite part of any church service is the hymns. He much prefers religious Christmas songs to secular, Santa ones.

2. Hospitality. He wanted everyone to feel welcome at his table.

3. Gazpacho. He is very proud of his recipe.

4. Doing the dishes. He not only finds it therapeutic, he's convinced no one does it correctly but him. Really, it made him nuts to watch someone else wash. "Are you going rinse that or let me to towel the soap and food away?"

5. Dogs and cats. His home has always been full of "fur babies." At one point he played father to three dogs and two cats.

6. Frida Kahlo. He loves how she turned her suffering into art. I don't care for Kahlo one bit. Henry feels sorry for me.

7. Books. He loved to read and be around them. At one point he was very happily juggling two jobs: at the public library on weekdays and at a bookstore on weekends. His taste is eclectic. Two of his favorites are The Diary of Anne Frank and Valley of the Dolls (I'm not kidding).

8. Stained glass. He loved admiring it and created a few pieces on his own.

9. Languages. He enjoyed comparing/contrasting the romance languages. He could toggle effortlessly between Spanish and English and could get by in Italian. He could read/write in French but had no confidence in his accent.

10. Travel. I don't mean visiting different lands. Henry enjoyed simply going from hither to yon. Car rides, bus rides, bike rides and walks, even through neighborhoods he knows well.

11. Sophia Loren. He believed she was the most beautiful woman ever and was fascinated that, if you took her face feature by feature, it wasn't so great but put together, she was stunning.

12. Hardware stores. He enjoyed home improvement projects and could wax eloquently on having the right tool for the job. He also insisted that if you're about to take a long road trip, you should make note of all Home Depot stores along the way because they have the cleanest public bathrooms, free to use with purchase. And there's always something you need to buy at The Home Depot.

13. Dressing up. He enjoyed choosing the right shirt for the occasion, whether a dinner he was hosting or church service where he'd be reading the lesson.

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.

 

DNR

This is the message Reg sent out to his 532 Facebook friends. I give it to you verbatim:

Decisions are sometimes easy, sometimes difficult and occasionally, impossible.

Tomorrow I must make a life or death choice.

The Doctors at [Hospital Name] have asked me to sign a "Do Not Resuscitate" waiver.

It's just a formality.

Right?

Right?

 

He does not even use Henry's name. With his every action, Reg reminds me that this tragedy is about Reg. Not Henry or those of us who love him. 

 

It was cruel for him to allow me to receive this news as I scroll through the cat videos and holiday hacks on my Facebook feed. I should know by now to expect nothing better from Reg, but he continuously surprises me. 

To make this even more inappropriate, Henry HATED Facebook and Instagram. Even before the accident, he refused to look at social media. He believed the artificial oversharing was as inauthentic and tasteless as reality TV. So it bothers me enormously that, since Henry's bike and that van collided, Reg has shared his husband's private information in a pubic forum. He knows Henry would hate it. His need for attention is greater that Henry's desire for privacy, I guess.*

 

So I guess this means Henry is going to die soon. I think of him, unconscious and head shaved, in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers. His recent hallucinations were all about his family in Puerto Rico. His mother, his father, his older brother, Raul. (Interestingly, not his younger brother.) While his English was perfect when we last spoke on November 22, he seems to have lapsed into Spanish exclusively. 

I think that means he doesn't belong here. Not on the mainland. He is longing for his island home.

I know Henry is a man of deep Christian faith. One of the great wounds of his life has been his rejection by the Catholic church, simply because he fell in love with another man. That was Enrique, an older man he met in school in Ponce on the southern coast. Enrique encouraged Henry to attend graduate school at Northwestern, to follow his dreams of higher education. No one had believed in Henry the way Enrique did. And so they came to Chicago. 

While Henry was working on his PhD and acting as adjunct professor, Enrique was diagnosed with AIDS. For reason he never understood, but was totally grateful for, Henry was spared. He stayed by Enrique's side to the end and, just as importantly, translated all the medical jargon for Enrique's mother in Ponce. For financial reasons, she couldn't get to Chicago and her son. Henry did everything he could to alleviate her confusion and grew very close to her. This was 1988 or 89. He was in his late 20s.

By the time I met him in 1992, Henry had abandoned Northwestern and was working as a Mac production artist at the agency that had just hired me. He pursued our friendship. Insisted on it, in fact. From the moment we met, Henry saw only good things in me. He told me all the time that I was the smartest woman he'd ever met and he couldn't believe I had no college. He had just recently taken up with Reg, who also has no degree. It amazed him that his life in Chicago, the city he came to for his Masters, was anchored by two people who had nothing to do with academia. 

 

I could do post after post about Henry's spontaneous acts of kindness to me and to others. About how he loved me and always, always assumed I had the best intentions -- even when I didn't. The love of animals we shared. His reverence for mothers, everyone's mother. My own mother led a very sheltered life, and Henry was both her first gay and her first Puerto Rican friend.

He was not perfect. He never met a conspiracy theory he didn't at least entertain. He could slide into persecution easily. He was massively stubborn -- as am I -- and that led to our clashes over the years. It is important to remember him dimensionally.

I love Henry. Just knowing him has been a gift. I am making my peace with the fact that I'm going to go on without him. 

*I sort of get that, because I vent here. But names are changed. No one who has ever met Henry in real life has ever read these words. I offered to help Reg set up a blog so he could work through his feelings in a more private forum, where he could keep his own identity and Henry's secret. That never happened. Of course not.

 

Photo by Scott Graham on Unsplash

WWW.WEDNESDAY

WWW. WEDNESDAY asks three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here. 

PS I no longer participate in WWW.WEDNESDAY via that link because her blog won't accept Blogger comments. I mention this only to save you the frustration I experienced trying to link up.

1. What are you currently reading? Finding Jackie: A Life Reinvented by Oline Eaton. Yes, this is yet another Jackie biography. But this one is different. The author, Oline Eaton, is a woman of about 40, so she barely experienced Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis in real time. She approaches the Jackie's story with a definite feminist outlook, viewing her subject as more than an extension of her husbands. So far I am enjoying it. There's no new information here -- it's not that kind of work -- but a great deal of reframing.

2. What did you recently finish reading? Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage by M. C. Beaton. Jimmy Raisin, a dissipated alcoholic who has been living "off the grid" for years, shows up in the Cotswolds, the peaceful country community where his long-ago wife, Agatha, now lives. Jimmy is a disruptor, and bodies start piling up.

As a mystery, this book is fine but rather forgettable. But as an entry in the Agatha Raisin series, it's important. This is where we get to hear Agatha reveal her own backstory, and it's fascinating and it makes a lot of sense. This book explains how and why Agatha became the flinty, independent and yet eternally lonely heroine we've come to know.

 

3. What will you read next? I'm looking for something Christmasy.

 

I don't know how Henry is ...

 ... I know that his husband Reg doesn't like Rep. Jim Jordan, as he has reposted memes to that effect, but nothing about Henry's condition.

All I know is that last week, my dear friend endured two operations on his skull. The surgeries were designed to relieve the pressure from blood clots. These clots were likely sustained during falls, either when Henry fell out of bed or went wandering in the middle of the night. If Reg had been an attentive caretaker, neither would have happened.

Perhaps the enormity of -- as the doctors told him -- his "failure as caretaker" is weighing too heavily on Reg for him to discuss this further. Or maybe he can't figure out a way to spin this, and the bruises on Henry's arms and hips, as somehow something terrible that has happened to him and not Henry. I know Reg is drinking a great deal. But I feel empty without updates.

I'm not reaching out, though. Reg knows how to contact me and has chosen not to. When he's drunk and hyper-emotional, he is neither the easiest nor the most reliable of reporters. When I am as angry and hyper-emotional as I am right now, he and I would make a combustible combination.

And for me, that is also part of the problem. For this post has been about Reg's staggering inadequacy and my frustration and heartache. It's so easy to lose that frail man, hospitalized for the 5th time in 12 months, clinging to life and the ability to communicate and many other things I take for granted.

I am sorry, Henry. You are special and loving and you deserve so much better than this. 

Photo by JAFAR AHMED on Unsplash

Sunday Stealing

IDENTITY

1. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? I had a ready answer when I was working: Broadcast News. I was really good at my job and it was important to me to do it well. I was in advertising for 43 years and managed to maintain my integrity, which wasn't always easy. I was a pain in the ass, I'm sure, but I don't regret it.

I've been retired a year now and so far I haven't seen myself in media. To understand my forever and ongoing inner conflict, watch or read Gone with the Wind. I strive to be Melanie, who is always generous in thought and deed, but I have a shit-ton of Scarlett in me and can be selfish and snarky.

2. Have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? If so, who? William Goldman was a writer whose humor and iconoclastic attitude really resonate with me, but he was much smarter and more gifted than I am. He wrote The Princess Bride and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

3. Do you care about your ethnicity? Nope. I think ethnicity is like astrology in that when and where you are born is a crap shoot and it doesn't have any real bearing on who you are.

4. What musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime? Oh, God, I'm such a boomer!

 

5. Are you an artist? I write well, in both my word content and my penmanship. I don't know that I'm an artist, though. I think of myself as a craftsman.

6. Dog person or cat person? I've always shared my home with cats and love them and understand them. But that's a function of apartment living. I know I could love and understand dogs, too. Like Ellie Mae, I have a natural affinity for critters. 

7. Inside or outdoors? I do better indoors in summer. I cannot abide temps over 85º. I like wandering when it's cold outside, provided the skies and streets are clear.

8. Five most influential books over your lifetime: 

The Princess Bride by William Goldman. He thinks like me! Only so much better.

JFK: Reckless Youth by Nigel Hamilton. How a life looks on the outside doesn't tell you how it feels on the inside,

Saving Graces by Elizabeth Edwards. Strength through vulnerability and faith.

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. Why do some people survive and others falter? Plus, it tells us alot about America in the 1860s, 1930s, and beyond. Slavery and our continuing fetish for the Confederacy are really fucked up.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Oh, Atticus! We live in a country where many of our citizens enthusiastically support the casual cruelty and narcissism of Donald Trump. Imagine if our neighbors instead believed that we should protect the innocent, that might does not make right, that we have a responsibility to our communities and not just our own self interest. (Slides soap box away.)

9. Would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else? I think I'll just stay here.

10. List the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order. Cuddling the cats, reading, watching movies, napping, farting around on the internet.

11. Have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone? My oldest friend usually gets me. I wish she weren't so far away.

12. Could you live as a hermit? Yes. I learned during covid, though, that just because isolation is comfortable doesn't mean it's good for me.

13. Do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you?” I don't know. For some reason, a moment in my parents' backyard has really stayed with me. I'm 9 or 10 years old, on my tummy in the grass with a book. Clearly that little girl is still a big part of me, although my outsides don't reflect her at all.

14. Three songs that you connect with right now: "Happy Holidays" by Andy Williams, "I'll Be There for You" (the theme from Friends), and "I take once daily Jardiance at each day's start ..." Once I hear that commercial it stays with me for hours.

15. Pick one of your favorite quotes. 

 

 

Saturday 9

SATURDAY 9: ROLLIN' STONE (1958)

 

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

 

1) The title comes from the proverb, "a rolling stone gathers no moss." What do you suppose that proverb is trying to teach us? Don't settle and stagnate. Keep moving, growing, improving.

 

2) The lyrics warn us not to be lazy stay-at-homes but to go out and learn about the world around us. Tell us about a place you haven't visited yet but would like to. Alaska. But to be honest, I have been thinking more about places I haven't seen in a while and wish to return to: Hot Springs, Colonial Williamsburg, Boston ...

 

3) Karen and Cubby were Mouseketeers on the original Mickey Mouse Club, a TV show which ran from 1955 to 1959. Then, from 1962 to 1967, local TV stations reran it in syndication. In 1989, there was a Mickey Mouse Club reboot, which launched the careers of Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilara. So The Mickey Mouse Club has entertained generations of kids. What shows did you enjoy as a child? I'd race home after school to watch Where the Action Is and Dark Shadows back-to-back on channel 7. "Action" was a variety show set on the beach, starring Paul Revere and the Raiders. DS was a gothic soap opera starring Barnabas Collins. Both shows were Topic A on the playground during recess.

 

4) Karen was Karen Pendleton, among the youngest of the original Mousketeers. Producers discovered her at a local dancing school. Have you ever taken dance lessons? Yes. My mom sent me and my older sister to ballet lessons when I was in third grade. I dropped out after a year. I don't recall if my sister continued or not.

5) When The Mickey Mouse Club ended, Karen left show business. She went to public school, graduated, got married, and had a daughter. When she was in her 30s, she was involved in a car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. Still, she went back to college, earning first her Bachelor's and then Master's degrees in psychology. Have you considered continuing your education? What subject would you pursue? I don't know that I want to return to college, but I'd like to learn Spanish.

 

6) Cubby is Cubby O'Brien, a drum prodigy who began playing professionally when he was just 8 years old. After the Mickey Mouse Club he went on to The Lawerence Welk Show. As he entered his teens, he prioritized school over TV. He later returned to television as musician on The Carol Burnett Show. He also performed in concert behind The Carpenters. Do you have a favorite Carpenters song? "Rainy Days and Mondays."

 

7) In 1958, when kids were watching the original Mickey Mouse Club during the day, adults were watching Westerns. The most popular TV shows of that year included Gunsmoke, Wagon Train and The Rifleman. Have you ever fantasized about life as a cowboy/cowgirl? Oh, yes! I think the mid-19th century was a very romantic time! Very hard on women and rather bereft of hygiene and comfort. But I'd like to visit it in a Hallmark movie kinda way.

 

8) Also in 1958, Dwight Eisenhower became the first President to appear on color TV. Not many Americans saw him in color, though. It wasn't until 1972 that color TVs outsold black-and-white sets. Did you ever own a black-and-white TV?  My family got our first color TV in 65 or 66. I had a little b&w set in my bedroom. When I first moved out, I had a 5" Sony "tummy TV." My apartment was in a very old building and I couldn't run both the room AC and my color TV without blowing the fuse. So in summer throughout the 80s I'd watch that tiny b&w set.

 

9) Random question -- Did you pass your driver's license test on the first try? Yes. That's frightening, because I was a terrible driver and they had no business passing me and letting me loose on the unsuspecting midwest.

This afternoon I went to Massachusetts

I actually went to the movies. The Holdovers is a very entertaining film. It's set in an expensive boarding school, circa 1970, and Christmas in Massachusetts looks beautiful.

It's about the students and staff that are left behind over holiday break. As the movie unfolds, we discover more and more about the three main characters. The school's cafeteria lady has the story we learn first -- this is her first Christmas without her son, who was killed in Vietnam. The students and the professor are revealed more slowly. It held my attention every step of the way.

I love my local theater. It not only offers a variety of movies, they have replaced the conventional theater seats with absolutely fabulous recliners.

The Continuing Saga of St. Reg

 My darling Henry has been in surgery twice this week! Brain surgery! Doctors detected an embolism on his brain and had to drill into his skull to relieve the pressure. 

How did we get here? Let me bring you up to date. Before dawn on Thanksgiving, the police found Henry nude, banging on his neighbor's door, demanding in Spanish to see his brother Raul (who lives in Puerto Rico and hasn't visited Florida in five years). 

This is not Henry's fault. In October 2018, he collided with a truck and sustained a traumatic brain injury. He didn't get the aftercare prescribed -- partly because Key West doesn't have extensive medical facilities but mostly because his husband Reg believed he knew best. Their situation became more dire as their finances and Henry's health suffered and this summer, they had to sell their home and move from Key West to Ft. Lauderdale. Unmoored, Henry had a pair of progressively more serious grand mal seizures. These days, on a good day, he can't use his phone or shave on his own, but he can converse, even though he is unsure of where he is or what year it is. On bad days, he can't control his bodily functions, requires a diaper, and doesn't recognize his husband.

 

Recovery from these seizures was complicated by Henry's continued alcohol abuse. Reg continued to have liquor in their home and, frankly, must have known Henry was consuming it. The doctors told Reg he has been "a failure as a caregiver." A caseworker was assigned. But in Ft. Lauderdale, as in Key West, Reg is not cooperating fully because he insists he knows what is best for his husband.

 

In November, Henry began slipping out in the dark without Reg's knowledge, searching for Raul. The first time, when neighbors called the police, Henry, disoriented and wearing shit-stained underwear, was returned to Reg. On Thanksgiving morning, he was nude, and the police took him into custody. The Ft. Lauderdale apartment complex has put Reg on notice: this has to stop, or they will be evicted. 

 

It was while Henry was in the psych ward that doctors became concerned by the bruises on his arms and hips. These bruises are consistent with falls. That's how the embolism was discovered. They do not suspect physical abuse, but since Reg is not aware of what happens to Henry while he sleeps -- or sleeps it off -- they think Henry has been falling out of bed or on the cement stairs outside their apartment and sustained a head injury. Hence the embolism.

 

So my friend, one of the most loving people I have met in my life, is in a hospital where they are drilling into his skull. This is not fair. This is not right. I have no resources or authority to intervene. All I can do is watch, pray, love him, and try to manage my own reactions.

 

What I have posted above is the truth. It is not what most of Henry's friends know, though. They are only aware of the version Reg has shared on Facebook.

 

1. Reg lovingly made a traditional Thanksgiving feast, but he had to dine alone. Henry had become "aggressive" and was taken away by police.

 

2. Henry's embolism has gone unnoticed by clueless doctors who incorrectly prescribed "anti-psychotic drugs." Hence Henry's unpredictable behavior.

 

3. Reg is exhausted by being his husband's protector these past five years but swears he will remain vigilant about managing the care Henry receives on "my watch."

 

No mention of the detrimental effects of Henry's isolation and alcoholism. Not a word about Henry's nighttime escapes. Not even a word about Henry's condition. Is my friend critical? Stable? Fair? I have no idea. I know that Reg is wallowing in self-pity, but I don't know how Henry is.

 

Thank you for reading this post. Writing it has helped me refrain from picking up the phone and saying things to Reg that cannot be forgotten or taken back. 

 

Photo by JAFAR AHMED on Unsplash

 

Thursday Thirteen #337

 
13 facts about the common cold. To borrow from the Mayo Clinic website, common colds are usually harmless but they may not feel that way. How true! I'm battling one now and it's embarrassing how much thought and attention I waste on it!

1. How long a cold lasts. I could not find a definitive answer. Seven days ... 10 days ... two weeks ... no one seems to know for sure. (I'm on day 9 and it's just about over.)

2. Most of us will get at least one cold every year. The average number for adults seems to two per year, while children get more.

3. Smokers get more and worse colds. That's because smoking damages the respiratory system. It just does. PS That goes for pot, too. If you find yourself getting a lot of colds, maybe switch to gummies.

4. The best way to treat a cold seems to be water. Drink a lot of it. Wash your hands often with it. Keep the air moist by using a humidifier. 

5. Antibiotics don't work on colds because colds are caused by viruses, not bacteria.

6. There is no cure. This sucks, but it's true. You can treat symptoms with OTC medications but you can't cure and, frankly, likely won't even shorten the duration, of your cold.

7. What are those symptoms? Runny nose and sneezes are the most prevalent. You can expect frequent, mild head and body aches. Coughs are common. Fevers less so, but they happen.

8. Antibiotics don't work on colds because colds are caused by viruses, not bacteria.

9. There's no real evidence that Vitamin C prevents or shortens a cold. But, to borrow a phrase, it couldn't hurt.

10. Chicken soup and hot tea help. Warm liquids can reduce the stuffy feeling in your nose and throat.

11. Are you sure it's a cold? If you find yourself sniffling and sneezing during the same time of year every year, you may wish to be checked for allergies. Those can be treated, and there's no reason to suffer needlessly.

12. The common cold can be a financial drain. Between workers who call in sick and those whose productivity is hampered by colds, this "harmless" affliction can have a real economic impact.

13. Beware of complications. Yeah, the common cold is usually no big deal at all. But if you find your symptoms worsening or lingering into Week 3, be smart and consult a physician.

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.

 

 

Now I know the real story

On Thanksgiving, my dear friend Henry's husband, Reg, posted on Facebook. It was about the traditional holiday meal he'd prepared but would eat alone since Henry became "agitated," and the police took Henry away. Henry is in a psych ward, under surveillance until it's decided whether he is a danger to himself or others.

 

Reg's post implies that he was striving to give his husband an old-fashioned feast, but Henry ruined it. Turns out that is not really what happened. At all.

 

Henry is living with a traumatic brain injury. His condition has deteriorated precipitously in the last few months. In October, he suffered a pair of grand mal seizures and now he is unable to shave or use his phone without help. He is often confused about where he is. On bad days, he can't control his bodily functions and needs a diaper. Occasionally he confuses Reg with his father. 

 

Believing this, I accepted Reg's scenario. Only now I know this ...

 

1) Recovery from the grand mal seizures was complicated by Henry's ongoing alcohol abuse. Henry doesn't know where he is. Henry can't drive. Henry has no money. There is only one way Henry can get booze: Reg has been buying it for him. This is unconscionable. The doctors told Reg that he is "a failure as a caregiver." Henry has been assigned a caseworker.

 

2) Reg did not call the police on Henry. Neighbors did. Before dawn on Thanksgiving, Henry was apprehended nude, banging on neighbors' doors, demanding to talk to his brother Raul. This is not the first time this has happened. Henry snuck out a few weeks ago, then wearing shit-stained underwear, and did the same thing. Then the police returned him to Reg. This time, they took Henry away to the psych ward.

 

3) The management company has warned Reg: if this happens again, they will be evicted from their apartment.

 

I think we can all agree that the doctors are right; Reg is a failure as a caregiver.

 

Since Henry's accident I have felt just about every emotion. I have been heartbroken, angry, hopeful, insistent. Henry is dear to me and I hate what has happened to him.

But right now, I feel empty. Tired. Resigned. I love Henry, but our story is not going to end well and there is nothing I can do about it.

I must just cling to how he wished me a happy birthday Wednesday, hours before they took him away. Somehow, somewhere inside his broken brain, Henry loves me as much as I love him. That's all I have.

WWW.WEDNESDAY

 

WWW. WEDNESDAY asks three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here. 

PS I no longer participate in WWW.WEDNESDAY via that link because her blog won't accept Blogger comments. I mention this only to save you the frustration I experienced trying to link up.

1. What are you currently reading? Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage by M. C. Beaton. I don't usually read two volumes from the same mystery series back to back, but that's a personal preference, not an enforceable regulation, and so I felt free to break it now.

 

At the end of the last installation in Agatha's saga, we were titillated by sudden and repeated references to Jimmy Raisin, Agatha's long-ago first husband. Agatha has been a middle-aged retiree for all the time we've known her, and I was so excited to find out about her backstory that I couldn't wait.

2. What did you recently finish reading? Agatha Raisin and the Walkers of Dembley by M. C. Beaton. This book was originally published in 1994. I had to consistently remind myself of that as I plowed through, because it includes events that had me scratching my head and asking, "Haven't these people ever heard of Google?"

Well, no, they hadn't.

 

Jessica Tartnick was a local character who lived in the same county as our heroine, Agatha Raisin, but a few towns over. She seemed to have two gifts: stirring oratory and pissing people off. When she is found murdered, there's no shortage of suspects.

This pleases Agatha. Not because she disliked Jessica; she'd never met her. But because her talent as a sleuth has always impressed her handsome neighbor, James Lacey. So Agatha is on the case.  Yes, her motive is that selfish. That's one of the things I like about Agatha. She is a definitely flawed woman. She is not driven by an unshakable desire to see justice done. She wants to impress a guy.

 

As mysteries go, this isn't so great. I figured it out pretty early on, and I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But it's important in the series for character development. We learn so much about Agatha and James that I'm glad I'm reading these order and have been able to let events unfold the way M. C. Beaton intended.

 

3. What will you read next? I don't know.

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!