In the sense that I did not get all that I needed to get done over just the weekend, so have decided stretch it out to the full week, while resuming doing posts here. (Funny how my “having to do” my daily blog both sucks my energy and regenerates it.) Hopefully, tomorrow (or Wednesday) I will write up a very interesting post about my reflections yesterday on mugwort, the fixed star Algol, my natal Taurus Moon, and the current Uranus transit over it . . .
Meanwhile, I copy for you the post I put up on my paralyzed, nerve-damaged son Colin Cudmore’s caringbridge.org site for today, since its extended message is at once profound and humorous, both in short supply these days!
May 6, 2024 Two episodes in the “Majestic Care” sitcom . . .
I’m beginning to think someone should create a sitcom called “Majestic Care,” because many stories from there, too numerous to tell here, could each be framed as an episode . . .
Two “episodes” from over the weekend, one of them deeply meaningful, the other truly hilarious — IF, like Colin, your sense of humor is not just intact, but expanding. . .
But first, when I asked, this morning by phone, about his pain in last 24 hours, he said “normal.” Normal? You mean about a 3? “Yes.”
The stories:
High point in ongoing saga with new roommate
If you recall, when Tony came in, way too soon (barely one week) after the last, very sweet, mostly silent, old roommate died, he announced his presence with temper tantrums, and was met with Colin’s silent fury, at both the nerve-jangling interruption and what it portended. But: several hours later, Tony called out, through the curtain that separates them, “Hey Colin, I’m sorry I lost my temper.”. And that, you might say, is the prophetic backstory to this one:
On Saturday, Colin was in the hoyer lift, hanging in the air, about to begin the transfer from bed to chair. The door is always closed during this procedure (for both privacy and insurance purposes). Then, unfortunately, exactly as one of the three aides present, Ashley — always gentle and dear — went to close the door, Tony, in the hall, tried to push it open, crying out, “I just need my wallet!” She followed the rules, and closed the door anyway. Tony got furious, started to call her nasty names.
After they were done and Ashley opened the door, she was greeted with a barrage of slurs, all aimed at her. HUGE temper tantrum. BUT: she just said to him, “I’m not taking this from you,” and walked off. (Good for her!)
Later, when they were both back in bed, Colin had a word with Tony. In a very reasonable voice — surprising even to Colin, he was so upset with the way Tony had treated Ashley, when she was only following orders — he said, “Hey Tony, the way you treated Ashley was horrible. You need to apologize to her for that behavior. If you want to live here, and this is likely your final option (he had just been moved from another care center), you need to stop yourself from having temper tantrums. You need to be respectful and appreciate the well-meaning people who work here, if you want to not get kicked out. Ashley was only following protocol for hoyer transfers, keeping the door closed. You happened to arrive just as she was closing the door, and even though all you wanted was your wallet, you had to wait until the procedure was done.” Again, he repeated: “You need to go find her and apologize.”
Well, guess what? Tony did go and apologize, and returned to let Colin know. Later, when Tony was not in the room, Colin pushed his call button for Ashley and she came in. Yes, she told him, he did apologize. “We worked it out.”
So it appears that Colin is not only a roommate that Tony (who we both suspect has been living a solitary, video-gaming life for many many years) listens to and respects, but who has turned into a mentor of sorts. Who knows? Colin may be providing Tony with a way to heal whatever karma is in him that has kept him emotionally frozen, punctuated by those dangerous and volatile outbursts of temper.
During their conversation, Tony admitted that when he was in the glass-walled conference room for an hour with four of the admin staff of Majestic Care (Colin had seen him in there), he had lost his temper, twice.
“There you go. It’s up to you. Do you want to have a good life here, or a terrible life. It all depends on how you treat those who care for you. Some patients appreciate the staff here, and others are always mean to them. The first have a good life, the second a terrible life. And, remember, worst comes to worst, you could get kicked out. And then what?”
As he finished telling the story, Colin once again told me how surprised he was that he was able to hold a reasonable tone throughout what he had to say to Tony.
I then pointed out how this situation with Tony reminds me of his Dad, whom Colin and his brother lived with during their teen and pre-teen years. HUMONGOUS temper (which, however, was nowhere in evidence during our marriage). Back then, neither son dared to say a word. There were times when one of them would actually faint, so horrific was the vituperation raining down upon them.
So interesting, the way we unconsciously invoke situations throughout life which remind us of the unprocessed stuff of our past; if we’re self-aware, then we (are sometimes surprised to) find ourselves working through them in a more and more conscious and refined manner.
The six million dollar bet
Yesterday, three of his favorite aides were in the room with Colin when one of them told this story.
A bunch of the staff were all sitting around on their break. One of them challenged the others: “If you could get $6,000,000 for fucking one of the patients, who would it be?” Of course Colin was number 1 for all of them (the rest are zombies, nearing death).
“So I was number one on their list of who to fuck for $6,000,000?” he grimaced, only partly in jest.
“And I’m paralyzed, so they can’t even fuck me!”
That they would tell Colin this demonstrates the nature of their relationship with him. They can get away with almost anything verbally, as can he. And the result is always uproarious laughter.
So yes. There’s been lots of raunchy humor over these past nine months, not exactly appropriate for Caring Bridge.
