Cruel and Unusual
Sometimes, as I watch poor Lou struggle with something so simple, like his fork, as he did tonight, I wonder what we did to receive such cruel and unusual punishment. I say "we", because we have all been punished it seems by this beast. It's the Catholic in me I suppose, who thinks maybe we are being punished for something...but what? What could we have possibly done that would warrant such a fate? Oh sure, we've had our arguments, I know that. But what family doesn't? There is no doubt we love each other. I don't think that's it. What else? Lou is the most generous person on earth, surely it is not for being selfish. And he is so kind, it can't be because he was mean. How is it that a national debate champion, university student body president, an outstanding student, successful businessman, volunteer board member, donator to just about every cause that comes knocking, loving husband, father, brother, uncle, and friend could be stricken by something so mean, so nasty, so unforgiving? HOW...or is it WHY? It's cruel. It is cruel and unusual punishment for someone with such amazing verbal skills to be unable to remember where his son lives. It is cruel and unusual punishment for the man who made pages of "to do" lists in tiny print, and got it all done in a day, to no longer be able to sign his name. It is cruel and unusual punishment for the man who knew the name of every waiter, cleaning person, doorman, etc to not know the address of his office. It's hell, really, right here on earth. Watching this incredible man become so greatly diminished...it's hell. Watching my son try to get ready for finals after a day like today..it's hell. Knowing it won't be any better tomorrow...it's hell.
I used to be able to find the "good" in this...it's getting harder to. Prayers needed, definitely.
2 Comments:
And we are here in prayer and more prayer. Wishing we could be closer to do more. . . . .wishing we had more words but we have prayer.
Cathy, I often felt just as you did: how could my brilliant father, author of scores of medical articles, several books, and lover of Shakespeare, the man who taught me to love the English language, be robbed of his own language by his gbm iv. It felt so wrong, and I constantly struggle against the bitterness I could so easily slip into. Lately I have been able to ask, "but why NOT my father?" "Why OTHER people?" I think gbm ivs are non-discriminating. I still hate them, however!
--Emily
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