What the hell am I going to do when I can’t make Lynn smile anymore?
My go to when her lips are barely moving and no sound is coming out is to say, “Not so loud.” She likes that one.
Six months ago, I had a whole morning routine featuring her, the Slo-mo Turtle. That got pretty elaborate with the log she lived on, her forest friends, and all kinds of silliness delivered with the staccato of a nature documentary. That routinely got not just smiles, but guffaws.
Early in the week I told her I got stuck in the driveway waiting for a gaggle of Garfield Elementary students to walk by on their return from downtown. And how some of the umbrella-less boys were drenched. The former elementary teacher smiled widely at that image.
What a difference a week makes. Today, I needed Jeanette’s help to get her to muster a slight smile.
She is not in pain and was quite peaceful when I left. But she’s waving the white flag.
I dig this story, “Gift to help cover tuition for students in lab medicine” for a few reasons. Mostly because the donors wanted to remain anonymous. Such a refreshing choice in this “look at me” day and age. I also like how targeted and thought out the gift is. There will surely be positive ripple effects. And of course, the recipients’ gratitude is heartwarming.
Both are interesting in the context of this The Nation pod, “Liberal Philanthropy and the Fight for Democracy“. Sentence-long summary, “As powerbrokers of the elite, liberal philanthropists are averse to challenging ‘the systems that spawned them.'” One does not have to be as far left as the typical The Nation reader/listener to conclude that we’re far too dependent on the capriciousness (and ego) of the oligarchy for the infrastructure and safety nets we desperately need. What we need is the the dependability of a more progressive tax structure.
Yours truly just sold some AAPL purchased in 2011. The initial investment was small, but the shares appreciated over 2,000% in the fourteen years, resulting in a large sum. Which I will now gift to several nonprofits.
In revealing that, I’ve violated my fave philanthropic move, remaining anonymous. And, I’ve also sidestepped considerable capital gain taxes.
I can live with those demerits because I do not aspire to be in any pantheon of modern-day philanthropists. My aim is simpler. It’s to honor the memory of those who’ve been generous with me and to transmute the incredible luck I’ve had as an investor into tangible contributions to the common good.
Science has no answers for Multiple Systems Atrophy. Some day it will, but until then, I lean heavily on the humanities for sustenance.
Ian McEwan is on my Mount Rushmore of writers. Presently, I’m reading his most recent novel, What We Can Know. The main character is a former academic caring for her husband who is suffering from Alzheimers. I marvel at McEwan’s ability to evoke that world. A hyper creative, all-world imagination that deeply moves me.
Then, a week ago, I stumbled upon a Robert Plant/Saving Grace Tiny Desk concert. Plant’s voice, at 77, is more bluesy and folksy than rock and roll. Major props to him for continuing to create. And for moving me. Deeply.
Lynn’s hearing is about the only thing M.S.A. has spared. So I shared this song with her. All I know to say to her now is, “Keep your hand on that plough, hold on.”
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, all them prophets dead and gone Keep your hand on that plough, hold on Never been to Heaven, but I’ve been told the streets up there are lined with gold Keep your hand on that plough, hold on
Hold on, hold on Keep your hand on that plough and hold on
Mary wore three links of chain, every link was Jesus’ name Keep your hand on that plough and hold on The only chains that we should stand are the chains of hand in hand Keep your hand on that plough and hold on
Hold on, hold on Keep your hand on that plough, hold on Hold on, hold on Keep your hand on that plough and hold on
Hold on, hold on Hold on, hold on Hold on, hold on Keep your hand on that plough, hold on
A large part of the rationale for the move to the Adult Family Home three months ago was that I could recover, and therefore Lynn and I could heal and get in sync, and spend whatever time is left as positively and peacefully as possible.
I am not in a good place, but a much better one. Way, way less stress. FuFu, Alison, and Jeanette, among many others, have saved me.
As a result, for the last two months, Lynn and I have enjoyed my visits. We look at photo albums. We listen to music. I tell her about my day. We loop the hood.
Most of all, we touch. I hold her hands and massage her calves. She hugs me tightly as if she’s not going to let go. We press our foreheads against each other. I caress her head as she falls asleep. We kiss.
It’s how we communicate.
I’ve never partnered with someone who is dying, so I’m improvising. All the time. What to say?
Last week I kneeled on the floor next to her hospice bed as she cried before napping. I told her I loved her and that she was okay, which of course, was untrue. Then I told her how sorry I was for what she’s experiencing. And that she’s been fighting it every minute she’s been awake for a few years and that was why she was completely exhausted. And that I wanted her to Rest even if that meant being alone. I told her how much I am going to miss her. More tears.
Then I told her she wasn’t alone and wouldn’t be alone. That she is bearing the fruit of having built such a caring and loving family.
We have had a much more intense relationship than you would probably guess. Intensely good most of the time, intensely bad some of the time.
I told her I was skimming an old Apple Note I wrote from when we were in marriage counseling five or six years ago. And how my one regret is all the time we wasted being mad at each other. I asked her to forgive me for being so stubborn and selfish. More tears.
I suspect she wanted to say something similar, but I was okay with her not being able to because I wanted to take most of the responsibility for our epic, sporadic struggles.
Even though we wanted to at times, I told her we never quit, and that was something.
In hindsight, we probably wasted 10% of our time together being too mad at each other to thoughtfully interact. Even though we learned to repair things, 10% of 38 years is almost four years! What we would do to have four years back.
More than Lynn, I accepted that we were never going to coast conflict free like some couples seemingly do. That the heartache was part and parcel of the intense intimacy. Again, in hindsight though, I wish we had far fewer, less intense conflicts. Fewer days where we couldn’t even talk to one another.
My unsolicited advice. Don’t take whatever committed relationships you’re in for granted. Be as proactive as you can. Trust one another enough to talk about what lies below the surface so that resentments don’t build up. Learn to listen and get more comfortable probing your partners’ feelings. If possible, by yourself, or together, enlist the help of a professional to learn to have fewer, less intense conflicts.*
Most of all, don’t assume you have many years and decades left, because you may not.
*LOL, I’m gonna get slammed for that wee bit of hypocrisy. :)
Confronted with allegations that they had cheated in a course and fudged their attendance, dozens of undergraduates at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign recently sent two professors a mea culpa via email. But, according to the professors, artificial intelligence had written the emails.
“Highly polished, Statuary marble!” Mr. Trump declared on social media as he posted images of his new Lincoln bathroom, even as some households planned on handing out canned soup in lieu of candy.
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
Why is this beautiful man waiting for me to get old? Why he already testing my patience? I only fear he’s taking time with other women that ain’t me While I’ve been reviewing applications Wait ’til I get my hands on him, I’ma tell him off too For how long he kept mе waiting, anticipating Praying to the Lord to give him to my loving arms And despite my frustrations
And he must need me (he must need me) Completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away? (Is he far away?) Is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
I’m doing lonely acrobatics, unzipping my dress at 2 a.m. And I’m tired of living like this He must be out there getting ready, tryna fix up his tie Uh, huh-huh, uh, hello? This where your wife is Wait ’til I get your heart going, I’ma turn it up too For how much I’m ’bout to love ya, no one above ya Praying to the Lord to hurry, hurry you along Baby, I intend to rush ya
And he must need me (he must need me) Completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away? (Is he far away?) Is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
T-t-t-t-tell him I’m mm, tell him I’m mm with the mm, mm, mm Tell him I’m kind, tell him I’m 5’5″ Tell him I got brown eyes and a growing fear That if he doesn’t find me now, I’m gonna die alone, so can he Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, hurry up here, sir? Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, huh I want it, want it, want it, want it, want it
I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger I would like a big and shiny diamond That I could wave around and talk and talk about it And when the day is here, forgive me, God, that I could ever doubt it Until death, I do, I do, I do, I- Is he about it, ’bout it, ’bout it? This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him that my grandma said it, tell him grandma said it (Your husband is coming)
I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger I would like a big and shiny (ooh) diamond (yes), diamond (yes) Diamond (yes), diamond (yes), diamond (yes), oh Where is my husband? (Ah)
Pressing Pause 