Today I am sitting in the Neuropsychiatrists office as my husband, the King, goes through more testing for this Dementia determination process. I can hear him through the walls, he is very agitated today. I am so sad listening to him struggle with these tests. The appointment is 10am- 5pm today if he can make it through. I worry about him because lately his is more child than adult, more sensitive than he has ever been before. He is so insecure and scared… and it comes through his voice.
25 years ago I was working as a hair stylist in a department store salon. I was fresh out of cosmetology school, 21 years old and thought very little of myself. I was overweight and a giant compared to the other “girls” that I hung out with. At 5’ 8””, I towered over every woman that I knew and I considered myself to be a freak of nature- thus updateable. I was working the weekend shift in the salon and as it was a Saturday it was predictably busy. A woman walked into the salon and asked for a permanent and hair cut…. It was the early 90’s so this was a common request. The woman and I had about an hour and a half together and she was quite easy to talk to. While talking, we discovered that our birthdays were a day apart. We chatted about our birthday plans and she said that she had a couple of sons that frequent the same bars that I go to. To say that I was surprised is an understatement. This woman looked to be in her early 30’s and she had two sons old enough to go to bars? Saying that to her, she laughed. She explained that she was in her 50’s, her oldest two sons were in their early 30’s. By the end of the appointment, I felt that I had made a new customer. She raved about her hair, scheduled a follow up appointment and made polite comments about how her sons would be lucky to have someone like me in their lives.
Two weeks later, I had survived my 22nd birthday. I was at work once again when my co-worker came to the back room to tell me that I had a walk-in request for a haircut. I walked out to meet the client and my stomach jumped right up into my throat. 6 foot tall, dark hair, green eyes….gulp. I looked at him and felt stupid. It was embarrassing because I looked at him and I saw the man that I would marry. I did not even know his name. I did not know his voice. Then he spoke and it was deep, rumbling through me. His mother sent him in to get a haircut… the woman that said her sons would be lucky to have someone like me in their lives.
I am not sure how I survived that haircut. It was a blur to me. I know we did the standard small talk that goes along with a haircut. I discovered that he was 32, that he worked for a tech school and he was attending college. As the appointment came to an end, I was sad because I did not think I would see him again. Then he asked what plans were for Friday night and I heard us making plans to meet up at a bar I went to a lot with my friends.
The day we were supposed to meet, I was taking the bus to work and as I was getting off the bus I dropped my bag, spilling items everywhere. I grabbed everything, threw all of it back into my bag (or so I thought) and rushed to work. Later that evening as I was getting ready to go out, I started getting calls from my friends, cancelling our plans. I was determined to go to see if this connection that I felt was still there. As I got to the bar I reached into my bag for my ID to get in- only to discover that it was not in my bag. I was at this bar every weekend so I tried to talk my way in but with a new bouncer at the bar I was not able to get in that night. I went home. I don’t know why, but I wanted to cry. This was so unlike me. I grew up in the land of “Life Sucks and the World owes you nothing, so accept that you will never have things work out for you.” I was used to this so why was I so upset?
I began to think about this man’s mother. I felt like she would be upset that I had stood her son up and I was definitely going to lose her as a client. She had sent several referrals my way and as I was just started in the business I could not afford to snub her that way. Part of my mother’s way of raising me was to ensure that I had manners (so she had me enrolled in charm school), that I had a business education to fall back on (so I had to take at least one business class per year starting at age 14.) and common sense (Mom and Dad were both big on logic and common sense… I was lucky that this was pushed on us at a young age because today it is like having a Super Power!). In Cosmetology school they stressed the different methods of providing Customer Service and building your client list. Sending thank you notes, reminder notes, appointment cards, discount cards to your clients would help them to remember you. I had a file box of all contact records for my clients, so I had “the King’s” address. I mailed him an apology card, explained why I was unable to keep our “meeting” and sent it off in the mail. I hoped that while he was no longer an option because I stood him up, at least he might tell his mom that I had apologized and that she would remain as a client.
He called me at work 4 days later to thank me for the card. He asked me if I was able to get my ID replaced (I had) and asked if I would like to try again. Holy moly!!! I know that you are supposed to be all cool and sophisticated in situations like this but Whoopie!!!!!
I had never realized how protective my friends were until that night. When I told them about my date they were all at the bar en masse to ensure that I was safe. We were a tight knit group and they did not trust some “outsider” to treat me right. Plus, they thought that I was out of my mind- this guy is 10 years older than me! He must be suspicious!!! Poor King… there was no place that he could go that night without one of my friends there to “talk” to him. One guy even followed him to the bathroom! That friend was recently out of the closet so he asked “how much should he find out?” For the Love of Pete, give the man his privacy and NO PEAKING!
It has been 25 years now. We have a son (the Prince) and a daughter (the Princess). We live in a nice house (not huge, just right for us) in the suburbs. I have a good job that I like…. He works for a recycling plant as a sorter and is grossly overqualified. Our journey together has never been easy and there have been times that I have looked back at our beginning and wondered if the rough start was a sign from God that we should not be together. Leave it to me to be more stubborn than God and screw up His plan. We have had more bumps in the road than smooth sailing and I had often wondered why.
But about a month ago the diagnosis must have been weighing on him. He asked if this was a death sentence. He said that he thought the having cancer was the big thing we were going to have to get through. He said “Why me, why not (insert brother’s name)?” You could see the look of a lost soul, angry at God, scared of the unknown, railing against the “unfairness of it all”. I told him that the reason it has to be him is because his brother doesn’t have anyone to love him and take care of him like the King does. I reminded him that God only gives us what we can handle and we have been through enough in preparation for whatever comes our way.
I cannot tell him that I also want to scream that it’s not fair. Dad’s voice rings in my head, filled with mocking laughter-“ whoever told you life was fair?”. I want to scream to the universe that we have had our share of trials and tribulations. I want to stomp my feet and hurl my fist in frustration.
But I smile and I reassure him that we will be fine. Inside I am so scared I want to vomit, but I smile. I do not like lying to the King, but I know that he needs to be protected from how scary the world is going to become.
Today in the office, he breaks for lunch and comes to sit across from me. He is visibly shaken, horribly upset. He is frustrated, angry, agitated. He looks like he is on the verge of tears. He said he didn’t realize how the tests would show him what a failure he is at life.
Throat punch. How do I answer that?
I remind him of his blessings. He says that I have to admit it is pretty damn hard to see the positive right now because we have had one bad thing after another for the past few weeks. I know that he is right, but I cannot let him sit there destroying himself because there are still hours to go with this test.
Suddenly I look at my husband, the man that I fell in love with that first day, that first minute. He is suddenly old, defeated, broken. It takes my breath away. It reminds me that I am losing my husband every day to this damn disease and I hate it. I know that I am not 22 anymore because of the daily reminder in the mirror. Crow’s feet, wrinkles, skin starting to sag. Time is a vicious bitch but until today my husband has been the same young man in my eyes that I saw that first day in the salon. He is suddenly grayer, he has wrinkles around his eyes and neck that were not there this morning. The future that I had once dreamed of, the one where we are old and sitting on the porch watching grandbabies play in the yard is gone. The sunshine fades and I realize that I am alone in that picture now. My heart breaks and I can only get up and wrap my arms around him because there are no more words. I struggle with the realization that my dream future will never be, that I have to find a way to explain to Prince and Princess that Dad is not going to be ok. I have to find a way to explain to his brothers, to his mother.
I love the King. I will find a way.
amycanavan 