Carry That Weight

On Sunday, Jen and I visited her Uncle Bob at Brigham and Women’s. He was ambulanced in two weeks ago when cancer revved up the nasty ass kicking. The docs (and us!) thought he’d be all set to go to rehab today at the latest. Nope. His white blood count decided to crater and, so far, has refused to come back up. Nae good.

This time last year The Amazing Bob and I were at the beginning of our final battle with that diseased ratfucker, Mantle Cell Lymphoma. My beautiful man was offed by marauding motherfucker, ARDS, not cancer, but it was all too eagerly waiting in the bloody wings.

Being in the hospital with Uncle Bob dials up the monster stress, near overwhelming fear and pain that I’m now reliving – it's anniversary time, don’cha know. My upbeat, this-is-no-big-and-we’re-gonna-get-through-this-shit-one-way-or-another cheerleader is, happily, also on deck though. Jen prompted me tell him stories. I can make him smile and laugh with my doofusosity. Yea!

This whole shebang is harder for Jen than me, of course. She's caring for Uncle Bob and, at the same time, slogging through this heart-stabby TAB anniversary with me. He was more than one of her BFFs. We've shared digs for a very long time – 18 years. It ain't just me missing his magnificent self.

I keep looking for distracting, contextualizing wisps of beauty and funny. They really do exist.

The funny: There’s the sign on a hallway door near Unle Bob's room. Air Lock Exit Door. Air Lock? We’re on the Enterprise? We can eject miscreants into airless space just by opening this door? Awesome! Can somebody get CorruptoTurtle McConnell and Granny Starver Ryan here? Please?!

As for beauty, the Brigham doesn’t have much art on the walls – at least, not on this floor. It’s not an ugly place by any means – just very plain. Unadorned. I actually thought about asking one of the nurses if they’d be interested in a donation of my framed prints. You know, peace the place up with some soothing water shots. I didn’t. In a rare fit of social awareness, I twigged that this was not an appropriate interior decorating moment. Yeah, shocking – me being all socially savvy and shit.

I asked Uncle Bob if he’d like some music. We could bring in a little boom box with anything he’d like to listen to. Nope, not interested. We’d brought a lot of tune-age in for TAB. It helped him through those horrible last days and, I gotta believe, helped ferry him, peacefully to Avalon. Uncle Bob is not TAB.  I want to find something, anything, that’ll bring Uncle Bob some hope, energy and peace. If not music, what?

Carry That Weight is playing in my head right now.