ADDboy unmedicated...
Words.
I digress. I ramble. Today, I feel heavy. Like a random, anonymous rock, tossed into a pond to eventually settle forever amongst other anonymous rocks, weighted down by my mere existance.
I love to laugh at myself...To have the ability to make others laugh with me--or at me. In my own mind, I'm a comedic genius. Yes. Most days I crack myself up. Somedays, I also have the ability to make myself cry...And to make others around me cry. Maybe later today or tonight, I will laugh. But, right now I cry. And I'm pissed. I'm pissed at words. Fucking words. Hurtful words. Painful words.
Nancy McMichael. Most of you will never know her. When The Minutiae King decided to give higher education a second try, Nancy M. was my English 103 professor. May 2000. She was a pain in my ass. She read my initial essays out loud. To the rest of the class. As an example really bad writing. She embarrased me. And I thank her for that. She gave me a B on my final paper. While my grammar and writing abilities haven't improved much since then, Nancy M. did teach me one valuable lesson: write about a topic that you're familiar with and passionate about, strive to make people feel what you are feeling, write with meaning, and when you struggle for words, just keep writing...free writing.
And so I do.
It's funny how a few simple words can change your day. Last night I went to bed feeling like I was coming down with the flu or some other unknown illness. This morning, I received an IM from Cookie G. which read, "how do you feel today?" Which, of course, made me follow Alice down the rabbit-hole that is today's blog.
Those that know the true identity of TMK, are aware that I spent 1998-2004 as the full-time caregiver/legal guardian of a step-grandmother who suffered from Alzheimer's disease, a grandfather in chronic congestive heart failure, and a disabled aunt, all living under the same roof. My step-grandmother--I called her Miss B--was famous for her quick and witty replies, even up to the very last week of her life. As Miss B lay dying in hospice, I would often brush her hair which seemed to have a calming effect upon her. My last verbal communication with Miss B is as follows:
TMK: Good morning Miss B. How do you feel today?
Miss B: How do you think I feel? With my hands.
While Miss B had existed in an almost constant coma-like state for 2 weeks prior to her passing, I had continued to talk to her as if she could still hear me. I hoped she could. I wished she could. From the moment Miss B was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in August 1998, I felt like I was Mr. Answer.com, answering repetitive questions such as "What day is it?" to "Is there something wrong with me?" Hundreds--no, thousands--of time each day. Every minute. Every hour. Every day. Every week. Year after year. Remember the movie Groundhog Day with Bill Murray? Miss B never stopped asking questions. Never. I can't tell you how many times I would selfishly hope for just 5 minutes of quiet. Miss B existed on her daily single sip of Ensure and a bite of toast for more than a year. I have no idea how she lived as long as she did, losing almost half her body weight in her last 12 months of life. Alzheimer's disease had reduced Miss B to a hollow shell of who she once was. But even through that last year of her life, Miss B would have very brief moments of amazing lucidity--moments that to me, felt like I was finding and opening a forgotten Christmas present--in April. Yes. It was THAT special! Words. We would hold conversations that lasted for but a few moments, but those conversations reminded me of those "talks" Miss B and I had 20 years prior, when she could tell me exactly which page of Grey's Anatomy book discussed appendicitis or how she cut the tie off of a Doctor she was assisting in Trenton Hospital operating room. And I will forever cherish those all-too-fleeting moments Miss B shared with me.
So it was to my shock and amazement when Miss B opened her eyes one last time and spoke those words to me. "How do you think I feel? With my hands." Miss B died 12 hours later, just before midnight on May 31, 2003. I was holding her left hand.
So as I was reading that IM from Cookie G. earlier today, I was thinking of Miss B. And then I thought of those earlier words from the man that wants to become President of the United States, John McCain:
"It's not social issues I care about."
"I said, 'The nice thing about Alzheimer's is you get to hide your own Easter eggs.'"
The current state of political affairs has left many with a feeling of apathy. I simply ask that you not allow yourself to be like that random, anonymous rock settled on the bottom of a pond that I was when I began writing today's blog. So on November 4, 2008 when you walk into your local polling place--and I sincerely hope you do--please remember Miss B and ask yourself if John McCain has the character to run this great country of ours.
So thanks to Cookie G. for the IM. And to Nancy McMichael. And Marilyn Whirlwind.
Words.
P.S. Thank you Miss B. It's April. I just found the present you left for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment