Uncharted Territory

I move as in a dream.
The space around me fills with faces and voices.
I smile.
I show an interest.
The walk from the entrance to the elevators is long.
I feel myself moving along the hallway.
I wonder how we have come this far.
The journey has become the destination.
I wonder how I look.
Did I check myself in the mirror in the morning?
A sharp fear thought catches me.
The electric bill is due.
Need to call the clerk of court about that ticket.
Money needs tighten my chest.
I am gripped by fear.
Lonely.
Feeling childlike in an adult life.
I wonder that my feet are moving towards his room.
I have the treats he requested.
I wonder how I am going to pay that electric bill.
He sees me and I wave the small bag at him and make a joke.
I don't tell him the adult stuff.
He gets concerned and depressed
and he hears me telling him not to worry
because I have taken care of it and he should
relax.
A man yet a child yet a man.
Sorrow fills me threatening to overflow onto
the floor.
He looks at me. I inhale the sorrow. I ask
what's on the t.v. and he says he is lonely
and I say I know
and I say I will find out how long before he
can come home and
I hear myself talking. Random thoughts
flutter around in my mind. Call the clerk of court.
Find money for the electric bill.
Gosh darn it all! I need to get the
power of attorney and DNR and some other paper
signed in front of a notary.
Someone said a day or so ago that I should
take care of myself.
I pray. I tell God and I ask God and I thank God
and
I take the down elevator headed for the
cafeteria.
He wants some candy.
His melancholy drips darkness as he asks
for a treat. Like a child, he asks me
 for the fourth or fifth time
how things are at home and how are the cats.
I tell him funny cat stories. I poke fun at him.
I promise to find out how long before he leaves.
Good-bye!
I take the elevator down and walk out the exit.
Where is the car parked?
Oh!
Not so far away.
I see it now.
Ambulances scream out as they arrive at the ER.
The air is humid.
I head back home.
I walk in the door.
I turn on a light.
I wonder if I can go without electricity for a week.
I realize I have no idea.
Something will work out.
It always does.
I think of him and the sorrow tightens my chest.
I ask for strength. I ask for wisdom.
I don't ask why.
What's this on my lap?
A black cat draped across my legs
relaxed in that "I ain't got no bones"
thing that cats do so well.
Home.
Honey, I'm home.

I Don't Stop For Red Lights Anymore

I got my first ticket in a very long time from a North Carolina Highway patrolman. I pulled a red light and he was the car behind me. I was following the cars that were going through on the green light and I was proud of the turn I made figuring it would impress the highway patrolman. He was impressed but for the wrong reasons. He pulled me and asked if I knew that I pulled a red light. I told him I did not and that I was following the cars that were turning left. He said I should watch the light and not the cars in front of me. I agreed. I was exhausted and full of the concerns about Robert. The ticket was far down the order of importance. I saw it as a wake-up call. I did not try to get out of the ticket. I have a great driving record which he mentioned and I did not think to ask him if he would forego the ticket. My mind and my psyche were completely unalarmed. But, I knew, as the policeman drove away, that I needed to regroup and pay attention in the real world.    


Many routines, responsibilities, appointments and such have gone undone over the past two years. It is a long list. I figure there will be plenty of time to clean up the wreckage later on when things settle down.


The sorrowing grips me taking my breath away at times. Watching
Robert lose himself a piece at a time is  a task for brave people and I am not feeling brave these days. The sorrowing seeps into the fabric of every day. It holds me in a tight embrace blinding my thoughts from daily routines, Nothing seems important compared to this deep sorrow. Anger flares from time to time and I believe I can beat this illness out of Robert. I have flights of fantasy when I forget there is a day coming that will break my heart. Maybe the certainty of the diagnosis and the irrefutable progression of symptoms alarms both of us. We rarely discuss it. This past week's hospitalization and subsequent talk with the hospitalist tore the veil of denial. I have never found a way to bargain with the truth.


So, the truth it is and the truth it shall remain. Sorrow washes over me. Robert is confused and depressed. l am numb. Ain't we a pair?














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