The automatic doors parted like theater curtains opening to signal show time. We were promptly greeted by a whiff of urine and vinyl … along with a tired looking nurse who added the subtle scent of lilacs to the strange mix. It had been nearly a year since we last saw Ed and a week since we received the first of three calls urging us to come as quickly as possible. He was having trouble swallowing and they weren’t sure how much longer he would last. We waited through a nerve-shredding week, as spring snows closed in on both ends of a twelve hour trip and made travel impossible, until now.

When they brought Ed from his room, the first thing I noticed were his hands … they were neatly folded in his lap, no longer grasping anything or holding on as before. His head tilted downward under its own weight and he appeared to be sleeping … we were told that was pretty much what he did these days. His now fragile frame was steadied in the wheelchair by a loosely fastened seatbelt and it quickly became clear that his dignity was now slipping away in full partnership with his quality of life.

Vigi worked on weaving her daughterly magic and I worked on trying to extract that perennial wad of gum from my throat. Neither of us had much success. The air in the lounge seemed to be growing more stale by the minute, as an old wall clock ticked away the time. We decided the three of us might be more comfortable in the fresher surroundings of the solarium. For the most part Ed was unresponsive but, even so, with all the loving respect of a small girl who once found strength in resting her head on Daddy’s shoulder, Veege asked him if he wanted to go.

I would have given odds that this sunny glass porch couldn’t possibly have been part of the subterranean atmosphere on the other side of the wall. Everyone’s mood improved almost instantly … even Ed stirred a little in his chair as if something had relaxed in his soul. As we moved through what was proving to be an almost leisurely afternoon, a pleasant looking man appeared in the doorway with a little Muppet of a salt and pepper dog. “Would he like to hold the puppy?” the gentleman asked. Given Ed’s apparent condition there didn’t seem to be any point to it, but we agreed that it certainly couldn’t do any harm. After all, the dog was used to visits with the old or infirm.

Vigi settled the little creature into Ed’s lap and placed one of his hands on its back. Slowly his fingers started to move in widening circles, then he began to stroke it. He continued to pet the ball of fluff for several minutes, a quiet smile beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. Was he remembering his old friend Spooky the cat, who had occupied that very position for nearly twenty years?

Suddenly, he raised his head and looked directly at Vigi. Their eyes met for only a moment but a lifetime of understanding passed between them. Neither spoke a word. Neither had to. They made a connection! To this day, she relives that moment and it makes her feel complete. She calls it her little secret.  ”He was either telling me he was going or asking my permission to leave … but either way I know he was holding on, waiting for me to come.”

It was just about bedtime and we were packing to go home the next morning, when the phone rang. Ed had only a few more minutes … at most a few hours to go. We hurried to his bedside just in time to join the rest of the family, as the turmoil in his mind gave way to the gentleness of his spirit … and the prankster Ed we all remembered escaped to hold hands with his high school sweetheart once again.

Look for Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast links under
“Recent Podcasts”… also check out my Podcast Page.

His right hand clung to the wooden arm of a red utility chair, while his left clutched the arm of his wheelchair so tightly the knuckles lost most of their color.  He sat motionless as a statue, white hair spilling across his pink scalp, steely blue eyes locked in a stare toward something invisible on the floor.  Those grasping hands once held the power to construct a home for his family, the strength to keep his loved ones safe, the gentleness to quietly stroke away the fears of his children and the skill to set the type used to print most of the cereal boxes that brightened breakfast tables across America each morning.

Ed was a prankster who added a little top spin to the more typical ‘dry’ Midwestern sense of humor … like greeting holiday guests at the door with scallions sticking out of his ears and an absolute deadpan look on his face! He had grown up in the same town, on the same land as his father and his father before him. His National Geographic collection and slide shows were legendary, as were the wagon rides he gave his kids and grandkids behind the lawn tractor.

He remembered none of that now.  Now the best he could do was hold on.

I hadn’t seen him in four years. Things had changed dramatically and not for the better.  Four years ago Ed was becoming forgetful, sometimes confused, but he was still at home in his easy chair, cat in lap, flirting with his former high school sweetheart of sixty-two years.  Now the cat was dead and the love of his life could no longer care for him. He had taken to wondering off and the very act of eating was becoming a greater challenge with each passing day. “What’s this for?” he would ask pointing at his spoon.

Now he had joined the company of frail, cotton-haired ladies with big black shoes and shriveled, stocking-doll men casting curious glances at familiar strangers.  As his daughter and I repeatedly spoke his name, Ed slowly turned and I could see that merely forgetful had slipped into the mists of forgotten.  His handsome face was beginning to melt like a waxen figure and the life’s light which so brilliantly burned in his eyes was growing dim. Alzheimer’s can do that you know.

“Dad, hi Dad.  Remember me?” his daughter said.  “It’s Vigi and this is my husband, Al.” she continued, pointing at me.  “Sure I remember you but who’s this other guy again?” he replied.  “My husband, Al … remember him?” she asked.  “He looks familiar, I guess.  But I remember you.  Vigi, right?” He got it! Ed frequently confused my wife with our daughter Heidi who is the spitting image of her mother as a girl … that seemed to be a point in time where his mind was still comfortable. He released his grip on the red chair and managed a slight ‘aw shucks’ smile as Vigi straightened his Detroit Tigers cap and kissed his cheek.

Her patience with him was even greater than her patience with me and that’s saying something! I admired her tenderness and instinctive ability to pull Ed back from the cracks into which he would sometimes disappear. I was watching the love I had fallen in love with wrap its magic around her dad, with the warmth of a familiar old sweater. It was the same ability that had made her such a natural mom. And so our visit went, with me being pronounced a “nice guy” but still, at best, only sort of familiar to the man fighting so hard to find the missing fragments of his existence.

All of a sudden, I felt something wet on my cheek and realized I had this huge wad of chewing gum stuck in my throat. Wait a minute. What was going on? Was I crying for him … or was I crying for me ? Whenever life seemed a little rocky, I always told myself that no matter what might happen to my vast array of worldly goods, “I’ll always have my memories … they can never take those away from me.”

Well, they can.

Look for Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast links under
“Recent Podcasts”… also check out my Podcast Page.

Life can be a fascinating ride but once you’ve rounded the corner at sixty, with youth only a distant image in your rear view mirror, the road can get a little bumpy and your suspension may not be the only thing in need of repair.

For me, that road led to the hospital more than once during the previous fifteen years but, so far, they were able to catch everything before any serious damage was done — even the cancer. My body had already shown it could do untoward things to me yet there I was, knocking on Social Security’s front door, never having experienced the joys of a colonoscopy. I figured it was about time. As it turned out the test itself was no big deal but the prep, which was a robust exercise in posterior protein spills, used nasty as a starting point and moved straight downhill from there. The important thing, however, was the negative result — no polyps, no questions, see you in five years.  Thanks Doc!

If nature’s cruelest joke is trapping a twenty year old kid inside a quarter million mile body then, to me, it seemed the most Vigi could need might be a renewed inspection sticker. She was the healthy one. Like many people she was, also, apprehensive about the prospect of  ’going through’ a colonoscopy. I assured her there was really nothing to it and, now that I’d been there-done that myself, I dared her to be next. Not to be outdone by someone known as Novocain Norris at the dentist’s office, she accepted my challenge, invented a few new adjectives during her prep and submitted to the test.

I sat in the waiting room half dozing, half listening to my i-Pod, not noticing that the usual half-hour had slipped into an hour and a half. When the doctor finally appeared he said, “She’s just waking up. I’ll take you to see her in a minute. First, let’s stop into my office, we need to talk.” I was never very good at tying knots but, suddenly, there was a perfect half-hitch inside my stomach. When he closed the door behind us, I noticed that the half hitch was now securing a ball of dough roughly the size of a small country.

Pointing to a row of back-lit pictures clipped to his wall he said, “We found a tumor about the size of an orange.  This type of tumor is usually cancerous and we need to get it out of there as soon as possible.  I wanted to discuss it with you alone before we tell Vigi so nobody looks too surprised.” As he explained the options, that dough in my gut began to rise, straining against the knot. I could hear myself asking questions and the doctor answering, as both our voices disappeared down some dark, echoing tunnel.  Then, he led me into the recovery room where this incredible smiling face looked up at me and two outstretched arms pulled me downward for a kiss. The biopsy confirmed cancer and only a few short days passed before she was looking up at me, again, from the gurney.

I had always been the one lying there counting ceiling tiles and Veege was the one standing next to me, looking frightened and helpless. It’s funny — when you’re the one who is down, you know that everything is fine and you’re going to be alright. Hell itself is, actually, reserved for the one who loves you but can only watch and wait. For the first time I fully understood the horror she must have experienced each time I’ve been on the cart! Now I was feeling it and I hated it. I was amazed at the number of impossible scenarios the human mind can conjure up per second.

Just before they wheeled her off, I placed my hand firmly on the doctor’s shoulder, looked him square in the eye and quietly said, “I know you’ll do your best but remember you have two lives in your hands, because I have no reason to be on this earth without her.” He could see I wasn’t kidding and assured me that he understood.  Then, the lady who is the bright center of my universe and her green-gowned entourage disappeared behind the large stainless doors that led to our future.

The good news was they were able to remove all the cancer cleanly.  The less-than-scintillating news was she would need six or seven months of precautionary chemotherapy. As rough as that was, and I was by her side through it all, nothing affected me as deeply or left me feeling so alone as looking down at the lady I love lying on that gurney.

The road has bumped us through the hospital again since then, and let me tell you first hand, you don’t get used to the feeling. Recently I’ve informed several of our friends that, “We don’t mess around with simple colds or flu. We save ourselves for the big stuff like heart disease and cancer.” In fact, I’ll bet neither of us has caught so much as a sniffle in almost ten years — until now. Maybe this is a turning point. ”Gesundheit!”

Look for Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast links under
“Recent Podcasts”… also check out the Podcast Page.