On Experiencing a Thousand Tiny Cuts

Photo by Irene Demetri on Unsplash

This post details events that occurred earlier this year. I am taking my time processing these events before publishing. Thank you for staying with me.

A Thousand Tiny Cuts

There are little things that happen when you introduce (or reintroduce) friends to your beloved who has been diagnosed with a degenerative brain disease. And it feels like your heart is subject to a thousand tiny cuts, each one of which bleeds, each one of which hurts, each one of which mocks you and your situation and your grief. Our trip to Malaysia was just one of those many times.

A Visit with a Friend

I have a friend in Malaysia, F. Mr. J and F have never met. . . before today. I introduce them in the hotel lobby. We are waiting for F’s brother to pick us up. Mr. J decides this is a perfect time for a cigar. “Right now,” I say to F, “Mr. J is working really, really hard to be ‘on.’ Later in the evening, he may ask the same thing three times in a row. And when that happens, we respond, each time, as if it is the first time he has asked the question or said the thing.” My friend F nods. “I understand,” he says.

F’s brother, MF, met Mr. J once in 2023, shortly after Mr. J was diagnosed. We met for dinner at the time, and I didn’t realize until we were at the restaurant that Mr. J was wearing pajama pants – to a high end restaurant. MF said to Mr. J today, “You are doing so much better than the last time we met!” “Am I?” asked Mr. J, who had no memory of meeting MF before today. “Oh, yes,” said MF.

It’s a Thing

Back in the hotel after dinner, Mr. J calls to me from the bathroom. “Hey, baby, can you help me?” “Of course,” I say, walking to the bathroom with a certain amount of trepidation. Mr. J is not known for needing help of any kind in the bathroom. “I don’t know why the water is cold,” he says. “I turned it all the way up.” I take one look at the faucet and see the problem. He turned it all the way up on cold. I swing the dial to hot. “Try this,” I say. “But be careful, it might be too hot.” It is, indeed, too hot. “I knew you could fix it,” says Mr. J confidently. Followed by, “What did you do?” “I just moved the dial a bit,” I respond. This is all he needs.

Later, I notice I am sunburned. “Apparently I got some sun today,” I say. “Well, yeah,” Mr. J says. “You were up on that bus. . . “ That was two days ago.

Headed Home

We are headed home. It will be a long 24 hours. Mr. J keeps asking the same questions about what we are doing, how long are the flights, when we will be home, etc. A has taken the lead, responding each time as if it was the first time he asked. When Mr. J started watching videos on his phone, without the benefit of headphones, A simply reached across the table to him and said, “Could you turn that down a bit?” as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

We are truly blessed with really good friends.

If you think you know someone who would appreciate my work, please share it with them. If you appreciate it, please consider liking or commenting, or even restacking my work. This increases visibility for those of us who don’t regularly post in notes. Because, somehow, I can’t bring myself to turn my journey into daily anecdotes. . .

Thank you.

If you think you know someone who would appreciate my work, please share it with them. If you appreciate it, please consider liking or commenting, or even restacking my work. This increases visibility for those of us who don’t regularly post in notes. Because, somehow, I don’t visualize myself making this journey into soundbites for attention. . .

Thank you.