“Yes, I know. Look, I don’t want to argue.”
“Neither do I, Neil, but I begin to wonder sometimes what’s more important.”
He looked down at the floor. She knew the accusation was unfair, but it was how she felt. She didn’t wait her whole life to meet this man only to see him crumble before her because he was afraid to see a doctor. At last, he said, “You know that’s not true. It’s just … well you know.”
She held him with a pointed stare. “No, I don’t. Tell me.”
He cleared his throat. Walked to the window and looked out. “It’s just that lately I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot. I told you she had Alzheimer’s, remember?”
Janet tried to shoo away the ominous reminder. “Yes, I know. It doesn’t mean you’re going to get it, though.”
“Well, no.” He shrugged. Turned around to face her. “It’s just when you tell me I’m too serious sometimes, that I need to be a kid once in awhile, I see her. She was so serious. Drove my father nuts. He said she got it because she never allowed herself to have any fun.” Neil paused and shoved his shaking hand in his pocket. “Are you angry with me?”
“No, Neil, I’m not angry. I just want you to take care of yourself.”
He nodded, and they fell silent as the mantle clock ticked on the shelf. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to be shoveled around in a nursing home like a bag of rotting potatoes. My mother disintegrated right in front of me. Every day she went a little further away until one day she didn’t know me at all. Sometimes I’d go up and find her sitting in a dark corner somewhere, strapped to her chair. I’d wheel her back to her room and sit, having these surreal conversations with her about black leather shoes and how she wished she knew where she’d put them. After a while, I stopped going. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Dad stayed to the end. He found her lying stone cold in her own shit.”
Janet went up to Neil as the words she wanted to say crashed up against each other. She took a deep breath and gazed into his tragic face. “I promise you … no matter what, I’ll never put you in one of those places.”
He blinked. As his finger traced her lips and ran down over her neck, he broke into an expression that said, I love you for it, but you don’t know what you’re saying.
Three weeks later, Janet and Neil sat reading magazines in the spacious mint green waiting room of the Neurologist. They waited for over twenty minutes along with several others who sat with them on the third floor of the Physician’s Office Building. Janet wondered what was taking so long. Her nerves were frayed from waiting so long to find out about Neil’s battery of tests. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he read his magazine. The door opened beside them and his name was called.
They followed a short blond haired assistant down the carpeted hall to the end and were shown into the doctor’s office. When the door was pulled shut behind them, Janet heard Neil take a deep breath as he sat in the upholstered brown cloth chair.
Dr. Childe’s office was spartan. A simple cherry desk sat in the center of the room. A matching credenza with a few photos and a clipper ship in a glass bottle sat behind a wingback leather chair. A blue and white Persian rug ran over a hardwood floor. Dark purple painted walls were dotted with accreditations and diplomas and a cream colored blind held the outdoor sun at bay.
Neil tapped his foot on the floor and pinned his shaking arm underneath his leg. Janet took her seat and looked straight ahead. At last he cleared his throat. “I wonder how Nate’s doing with his big sister?”
Janet glanced over at him. Saw the tension in his face. “I’m sure he’s having fun with her. You okay?”
“I’m doing. Just wish this was over with.”
“It will be … soon.”
The door opened and the doctor stepped in with a folder in hand. Neil stood up, offered his hand into the man’s long fingered grasp. Janet smiled politely. She had only met Dr. Childe once. Had forgotten how tall he was. The man had them sit back down then climbed in behind his desk like a pilot into a cockpit. He loosened his dark red tie and opened the folder. After a brief moment of consulting with it, he took his glasses off and looked up, staring at Neil with deep-set black eyes. “Well, Neil, it’s confirmed. You have Parkinson’s. But it’s early yet.”
“Catching it early. That’s good, right?” Janet said.
“Yes, it is,” the doctor said, leaning back into his chair. He looked at Neil. “If we keep a close eye on it and medicate appropriately, there’s no reason why you can’t keep a healthy lifestyle for a good long while.”
“So, it won’t get any worse?” Neil said.
The doctor bent forward. “I’m afraid it will. Parkinson’s is a progressive and degenerative disease.” He got up and went over to a bookcase. Took a volume down and opened it on his desk to a plate showing the brain. He pointed to a part near the center of the organ. “This region here, called the Substantia Nigra, is where things are going wrong for you. What essentially happens with Parkinson’s is the nerve cells here that secrete Dopamine, which are critical in motor control, deteriorate. For some reason, which we don’t totally understand, they are easily damaged more so than in other parts of the brain. Since you’ve never been a drug user or been in a serious accident, I can only surmise it may have happened during your bout with pneumonia a few years ago.”
Janet’s brow flew up. “Pneumonia!”
Neil shrugged. “Never thought about it really, until the Doc here questioned me on it.” He turned back to the doctor. “So, what now?”
“Well, for one thing we’re going to put you on Parcopa and Madopar right away and I want to start seeing you regularly every other week until we’re comfortable with how things are going. Also, I want to see you on a wellness maintenance program of physiotherapy, exercise, and an appropriate diet. Weight often times plays an important role.” He sat back down and opened Neil’s chart again. “I want to see you drop at last thirty pounds, more if possible.”
Neil coughed. “Thirty?”
“Yes, that would put you right around 215. I’d prefer 195, but I’ll take whatever we can get.”
Janet could see her husband’s shoulders sag. No more of his beloved potatoes or lasagna or baked goods. The loss of apple fritters with his morning coffee would be the hardest.
The doctor pulled out a script pad from his drawer and wrote down his orders on four separate sheets.
“This, here,” he said, sliding the first one toward Janet, “is a referral to a physiotherapist. And this one is for a nutritionist. The last two are your medications.”
Neil nodded. “What about my job?”
“I see no reason you can’t continue to practice.”
Neil smiled then a puzzled expression came to his face. “Why is it when I write or draw, my hand doesn’t shake?”
“That, I haven’t quite figured out,” the doctor said. “But it might be the brain having something to do, rather than just idling around. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”
Janet spoke up. “What about me, what can I do?”
Dr. Childe tore off another script sheet and scribbled a name and number on it. “This is a support group that meets monthly. They’re wonderful, and you two should both go. As I said, the disease isn’t far along, and we can keep it moving at a snail’s pace if we treat it right. And don’t be afraid to call me at any time.”
The doctor stood up. An obvious sign the consultation was over. They said their goodbyes and went out of the room and down the hall. When they were in the lobby waiting for the elevator, Janet said, “You okay?”
“I feel better. But thirty pounds?”
“Yes, I know. You want your last supper before we go home or do you want to start your diet right now?”
He thought about it for two seconds. “Let’s go eat at Jakes! I’m having the Italian platter.”
17
May 11th, 1991 –
Janet put the groceries in her car while Nate sat in the front seat munc
hing a cookie. A sea of cars flowed over the supermarket parking lot on a bright, warm Saturday morning. Janet felt glad to be getting out of the store and away from the foraging crowds. She shut the hatch door of their new Dodge Caravan, pushed the cart to the side, and joined her son. He was getting bigger, and every day took on more of his father’s looks. He eyed her attentively and knotted his face the way children did when thinking deep thoughts.
“Mom, are you mad at Dad?” he said as he put his seat belt on.
The question caught her sideways. “No, Nate. Why?”
He bit his cookie, and as he chewed, said, “I heard you and Dad yelling last night.”
Janet regarded him and felt as if she’d been struck with a sledgehammer. “We were having a little disagreement, sweetie.” But it was more than that. In fact, it was getting to the point she couldn’t even talk to Neil anymore without enduring another round of him doubting himself and using it to make her feel guilty. It was manipulative and stupid. Why couldn’t he see what he was doing? Yes, his forgetfulness was frustrating, but his moping about it and then using her frustration against her was worse.
The memory of last night’s argument replayed itself in her head. It really wasn’t so much an argument as it was a scolding, and she was the one giving it. Am I really a bitch? Debit cards aren’t all that difficult to get replaced. But, it’s getting old, and I’m beginning to feel like an idiot calling the bank for, what, the third time in six months to get the damn thing replaced. She shook her head and forced the memory away. They were going to Fogarty State Park to take in the ocean today. Why ruin something she and Nate had looked forward to over the last week?
She threw a smile on. “Are you excited to be going to the ocean?”
Nate beamed a smile at her. “Yes, Mom. Can I wear my new swim suit?”
“Of course you can.” She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. Inhaled his fresh-washed essence. Suddenly, it hit her that she hadn’t felt a connection with Neil for a long time. She looked up and away from Nate as the uneasy thought drove itself into her. Are we drifting apart? Are we turning into my parents?
The deep blue dome over the gray waters of the Pacific was without a single cloud, and in it shone a molten sun. Janet forced Nate to sit on the large Bugs Bunny Roadrunner terry cloth towel and slathered sun block on his back, arms, legs, feet, and face. The boy squirmed, anxious to go play at the water’s edge while Barney, who now, a step slower than he used to be, paced beside them. At heart, he was still a puppy. Neil sat next to them in his baggy, red swimming trunks reading Awakenings. His legs, thin and bony from losing so much weight over the last seven years, were stretched out over the towel. His back was propped up in one of the new style beach chairs that had no legs. He had been quiet all the way to Fogarty. She covered the last square inch of Nate’s back and sent him off to play.
Offering the bottle of lotion to Neil, she said, “Want some?”
He dog-eared his page, set the book in his lap and looked up. “Thanks.” As he dabbed lotion in his palm, he added, “Sorry about last night.”
“Me, too.” She paused. She had been playing with an idea since that morning’s grocery shopping. “I think we ought to take a vacation. We haven’t been anywhere in the last three years.”
He shrugged. “I know, and I’m sorry. Work’s been a real bear. When did you have in mind?”
She could feel the oncoming resistance, and braced herself. “Soon. Maybe August.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure if I can get away then. It’s a busy time for us.”
“Then when?” she pressed.
“I don’t know. I’ll check my calendar when we get home.”
She painted a false smile on her face and made her voice thin and demanding. “Well, make it a priority, okay?”
“I’ll do my best. Any place in mind?”
“I don’t know, anywhere … but a long ways away from Salem. And I want it to be just the two of us.”
“A second honeymoon?” he said, raising his brow.
“Yeah. We need time away together. I need time away … with you.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” he said. “Is this about last night?”
“Partly.” She sighed. Sometimes he was so one track. “But it’s more than that. Neil, we’ve been going through the motions for a while now.”
“It happens.”
She bit down her anger at his reply, hating it when he made such pat remarks about really important stuff. It was almost like he didn’t care and wasn’t interested in doing anything about it. Finally, she said, “Yes, it happens. But it’s more than that. I feel like we’re drifting apart. And lately…” She fell quiet, letting the words hang in the air between them.
“And what?” he said, looking at her hard.
Her voice was but a whisper. “And I feel like, I don’t know … that the romance and desire we had isn’t there anymore. It’s like we’re just going through the motions.”
“I see.” He looked away. “And, so what happens if this vacation doesn’t work?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see that far. But I want to try. I don’t want to go through the rest of our lives this way.”
“We won’t. But you can’t always be on top of the mountain, Janet.”
She looked up. How can I make him understand? “Neil, you won’t let me in anymore. You drop into these moods, and when you do, you disappear.”
“Mom, look what I made,” Nate said, running up with Barney.
“What did you make, sweetie?”
“Come see!”
“Okay.” To Neil, she said, “Coming?”
“Yeah.” He got up and followed them to Nate’s sand castle. They stood around the simple, but well thought out sculpture, praising Nate’s artistry. Their son had constructed a perimeter rampart wall, and inside it were sand pail formed turrets that had windows and doors etched into their sides.
“That’s good, honey.” To Neil, she added, “Isn’t it?”
Neil dropped to his knees and studied the castle closer. Nate watched him, his eyes telling her that he needed his father’s approval. Please Neil, don’t look for ways to improve it. Just let him bask in your praise for once. At last, Neil said, “It’s very good, Nate. What’s this supposed to be?” He said, pointing to a square ridge inside the rampart wall.
“It’s a landing place for the dragon,” Nate said as if it should’ve been obvious.
“Oh, a dragon. Is he a like a sentry?” Neil said.
Nate looked at him puzzled. Janet said, “A guard.”
“Oh. No, Dad, he’s for riding.”
“I see. So, he lands here and they get on?”
Nate bent down beside him. “Yeah.”
“Well, if he’s big, wouldn’t they need a tall platform right here so they could get on?” Neil said.
Nate frowned. “I guess.”
Janet sighed. Neil looked up at her. A questioning expression was on his face. She shook her head. “I’m sure you were going to put one there, isn’t that right, Nate?”
The boy shrugged. “I guess.”
“Why don’t you do it then and when you’re finished you come get us.” She bent over and tapped Neil on the shoulder, letting him know she wanted to talk with him privately. When they were out of Nate’s earshot, she said, “Why do you always have to point out things like that to him? Can’t you tell him it’s good and let him be happy about it?”
“I did tell him it was good,” he said. “I was merely suggesting–”
“But to a seven year old, suggesting is the same as criticizing. Neil, he worships you. You need to let him have a few victories without suggestions every once in a while. God knows he’ll get enough criticism in his life without you adding to it right now.”
Neil frowned. Looked off. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re always right,” he said, his voice thin and clipped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t seem to be
right about much of anything anymore,” he said. His hand began to shake more than usual. A sign that he was upset. “I wonder…” he dropped off and turned to go back to their towel.
She chased after him and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. “Wonder what, Neil?”
“Never mind. Look, I really don’t want to get into anything right now. I’m tired of arguing,” he said. He blinked and looked away. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Sometimes, you make me feel like I’m a child who can’t take care of himself, let alone my son.”
She closed her eyes and kicked at the sand under her feet. The long silence between them was filled with the arguing of gulls, the chatter of other people around them, the sounds of children playing and babies giggling and bawling. Finally, she said, “I don’t think you’re a child. You just don’t think sometimes. He’s seven years old. It’s been a long time since you were seven. You’ve forgotten how to get down on his level and play.”
He sucked his cheeks in and nodded. “Guess you have the advantage there.”
She wasn’t sure if that was meant as a teasing jab or a biting remark. She let it pass. “I want to go with you the next time you see the doctor.”
He turned and looked at her startled. “Why?”
“Because, I want to ask him some things.”
“Such as?” he said.
“I want to know if Parkinson’s affects memory and mood.”
“And if it does?”
“Then at least I’ll understand what the hell’s going on.” As she said it, it occurred to her that every day, Neil’s job demanded a good memory in order to juggle the six or seven projects he was working on. How was he doing it? And if he had a strategy, why wasn’t he using it at home? And if he didn’t have a strategy, was he being covered for at work, or worse yet, was he screwing up and no one had noticed. The thought of him losing his job made her stomach flip. Finally, she put out her hand and said, “Look, we’ve got to get this figured out. I can’t keep going through this, and neither can Nate. Do you want us to be a family?”
“Yes, of course I do! What kind of question is that?”
Loving Neil Page 15
