Rich works, mostly from home. His new accessories, replacing the once ever-present tie and suspenders, are a four-legged cane, a walker, two urinals, a raised toilet seat, and, in waiting, a chair for showering and a chair for transport. Plus steroids and a few other pills to limit the steroid's potential damage.
None of this cures, but comfort and control are worth something.
"A good day," he says, as we sip some wine and begin eating the first of the season's greens.
His symptoms, we agree, are moderately stable. He left leg and arm still function, as do bowels and bladder, although numbness of hands and feet is frequent.
I straighten. I cook. I empty urinals. I enjoy visits from friends, occasional cafe au laits, and sleep.
I don't think much. Not about the past or the future because the present moment, I finally grasp, has everything.
And I can't control Rich's desire to control or my inability to comfort.
Still.
His efforts, and mine, are worth something.
Maybe even everything.
Candace
1 comment:
Dear Candace and Rich, that sounds actually a lot better than what I had in my imagination. Rich is home- that's wonderful. May your rhythm last.
Quite the accessories list there. I hope the four-legged cane has some dapper qualities that can partly compensate for the missing suspenders and tie.
Most meaningful, I love the way you write about who you are, who Rich is, what is there, what kinds of gifts you have to offer each other or the lack thereof and your acceptance of that or of the gift of the effort, and your present mindfulness.
The journey. A friend has the following quote on her Facebook page:
"Be patient. You'll know when it's time for you to wake up and move ahead." - Ram Dass
You know. You'll know. There is much knowing in your lives right now. It is a privilege to be witness to it.
Love, Heather
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