It's a lonely weekend without Piper home. We did the tuxedo thing yesterday afternoon and went out to a bar last night, but when a litany of medications prevents you from drinking, it's just not enjoyable watching your friends get hammered.I've been sitting here with Phoenix all day, getting up as much as possible to take him out, play in the yard, and for short walks, but for some reason, every joint in my body hurts. It hurts to sit; it hurts to stand; it hurts to walk. I tried a hot bath, I've taken Tylenol since I can't take anything else with all the other medications and blood pressure issues, I've tried massaging the aches away, but I can't escape pain. The last thing I want is Piper to come home to me on the couch, with nothing done, but I'm literally finding movement difficult. Nothing eases the pain and stiffness in my joints. I had all these grandiose plans to try to get some housework and laundry done. I wanted to start dinner. It was important to me she come home and
The following weeks bring more of the same. Once again, Piper's back to essentially being a full-time caregiver. We've been to countless doctors, specialists, internists, rheumatologists, and nutritionists; at last count, we've seen seventeen unique doctors or homeopathic specialists in three cities, all with the same result. None of them has a clue why I'm in such debilitating pain, and none have been able to relieve it longer than the narcotic lasts.Initially, I worried I'd become addicted to the painkillers. Now I'm afraid I'm going to die before someone can diagnose the problem. Once again I'm confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk because the pain is so severe. My wife helps me to the bathroom, bathes me, dresses me, feeds me. Every movement is more painful than the last.My rehabilitation process has completely halted since I can't do any of the work. None of my therapists have ever seen anything in a stroke patient like I'm experiencing. Piper has an obsession with findin
"Moby," I hear someone calling my name, but they're so far away I don't recognize it."Moby." Their insistence is beginning to irritate me. There's more than one voice, but I'm unable to distinguish who they belong to over the hum of the television. The fingers on my face smell like the lavender soap in the bathroom. When they pry my eyes open, there stands a blurry Dax, with Brooks and Landis in the background. Unable to focus on them, they allow my lids to close, or maybe it was my inability to communicate with them. Inability or unwillingness, I'm unsure which.Floating in and out of awareness, I fight like hell to regain my bearings when I hear Piper breaking down. I see her between the slits sobbing into her hands; my brother's arms are wrapped around her to keep her from sinking. Reaching toward her in an effort to comfort her, I start to fall. "Whoa, Moby. Just stay still. The paramedics are on the way." My oldest brother. Always taking care of everyone else. "Piper's
The lights are bright, so fucking white they're blinding. My head is pounding but for the first time in months, I don't feel pain-my hips, my knees, my arms, none of them hurt. Turning my head to the side, I attempt to peek through my lids. Next to me sits my wife balled up in a plastic chair, her head resting on her folded arm. She looks miserably uncomfortable, and she's not wearing the clothes she had on this morning. I don't wake her or call for the nurse. Sleep lures me back into the veil of darkness where I'm comfortably numb. "He's moved around some, but I don't think he's woken up." Piper's voice is still that of an angel no matter how many times I hear it."We're keeping him pretty heavily dosed on morphine to ward off the pain until we can figure out what's causing it. It will be difficult for him to come out of it as long as he continues to receive it. If he does, it will be fleeting, maybe a minute or two. His vitals are strong, so rest is the best thing we can give
I pull the chair close to Moby's bed, prepared to have the most difficult conversation of my life. I've talked at length with my Fish and Dax and feel I have no other alternatives.Taking his hand in mine, I watch him search my face. I wish I thought he had no idea what's coming, but I know he knows I can't continue when he's not doing his part. "Moby, I've spent the last few days thinking about what the doctors have said. How different things could've been if you had only followed their instructions. I think about the amount of money we've wasted on specialists and the pain you've unknowingly inflicted on yourself by your simple refusal to do what you're told by licensed professionals."You promised me when you came clean about not doing the rehabilitation work your lies and misrepresentation were over. You committed to doing things the right way, exactly as prescribed. Whether that was exercising or taking medication, you promised me you would do it.""I have done it. You've
I don't hear from him for a couple days, which surprises me. If I'm being totally honest; it cuts me to my core. I depend on Moby for direction in my life. No matter how dark things get, he's the light on my path. Once I found him, I knew I'd never be alone. But here I sit, my heart shattered, by myself, in a never-ending darkness that's cataclysmic.I took the week off work, needing time to process and rejuvenate. The last year has beaten me up pretty badly. I've lost sight of who I am. Every part of me changed. I miss my husband and had hoped me leaving would spark a fire in him to get in gear; to fight for me. Hell, to fight for himself. Instead, it's radio silence. Not just from Moby but I haven't heard from any of my Fish either.I haven't left the house, and for two days, I didn't even bother to shower. My own funk took care of that issue, the stench was more than I could stand. I wander aimlessly in the painful silence, listening for things I apparently missed, but no answer
Finally dragging myself back to work after a weeklong hiatus, the vibe in the office is off. I get the obligatory hello but no one asks where I've been or what I've been doing. Nobody inquires how I am after leaving my husband. They're oddly cold and distant, even Cam. Dax is nowhere to be found. I find strange, too. He rarely lets Cam out of arm's reach, much less his sight.With a week of work sitting on my desk, I don't dwell on the environment around me once I settle in and turn on my computer. I don't stop for lunch and work long past everyone else's quitting time. It's not lost on me no one says goodbye. I get up to check the doors around the office to make sure they're all locked before going back to the grind.I continue well into the late hours of the night. With nothing at home to beg for my attention other than depression, I might as well stay. Around two, I finally decide to go home to grab a couple hours of sleep before replicating today, tomorrow.The days go on lik
The dress is better than anything I could've ever dreamed and so much prettier than the original. I haven't bothered mentioning it to Cam and doubt she'll notice when the time comes. I figure it's best not to acknowledge it, stressing her out even more than I assume she already is. She took yesterday and today off work and all of next week for their honeymoon, but I'll see her, and everyone else, tonight at the rehearsal dinner. I'm dreading the entire thing, which pains me. I've been looking forward to Cam's wedding for years, even though we didn't have a groom. Not just hers but all the Fish. I've wanted to watch my friends take the next step, open the next chapter in their lives, each of them. Somehow, the last year seems to have taken all that joy away, sucked it right out from under me. Not only is the joy no longer there but it's been replaced with apprehension and fear. My friends haven't talked to me since I left Moby, even though they all agreed it was what I needed to d