Chapter 9 Tina Speaks
I wanted to title this chapter "How to make love to a man in a wheel chair who can't move his arms or legs but can kiss with passion." But it was too long and Jack vetoed it anyway. He wanted me to title it, "How to F*** in a wheelchair/hospital bed/recliner." But I dislike the F-word intensely.
We finally agreed on "Tina Speaks." This was only a compromise on Jack's part, for he wished to maintain editorial control while allowing me to bring my perspective to this narrative. However, after I pointed that out my perspective cannot be edited out and I refused to be dictated to regarding my portion, Jack relented. Score one for me.
Then the big decision was where to pick up this narrative and what to include. Did I wish to continue to narrate the story that Jack began, or did I wish to write my own story as a sort of epilogue? I couldn't begin to entertain the word epilogue. That word has an ominous feeling that indicates a sort of finality. Ominous and finality are two more words I dislike and refuse to use. So I decided to go back and read again what Jack has already written, then write whatever pops into my head.
Jack is a moron! He thought I didn't know about those other women? Of course I knew! I could smell them on him. No, not in terms of smelling their vaginal secretions on his groin, get your head out of the gutter! I could smell their body lotion, a cigarette smell here or strange, and usually cheap, perfume there. One time I got into the car with him and when the radio came on, it was tuned to a smooth jazz station. What could possibly induce him to switch from sports talk radio, even listening to fly fishing techniques, to smooth jazz? A woman in the car with him and I knew it hadn't been me. Slowly I pieced things together based solely on what he would say, or wouldn't say. I never asked questions or interrogated him. So yes, I knew.
I knew also, that I had driven him out there. I knew I had cut off his balls, as he has so eloquently mentioned a few times. I really don't want to go back to that chapter in our lives but suffice it to say that to heal a wound that had been left festering for years, all the scabs had to be removed and that was painful, brutal for both of us.
By not confronting him I took responsibility for him having been there in the first place. Perhaps, unlike many other wives or spouses, I had faith in his love for me. Just as I knew he was screwing some floozy or floosies, I knew he would come back to me. He had put up with such insanity and through it all still made me feel his love for me. My only fear was that he would stop screwing floozies and find a decent woman who would then capture his heart. But as all signs continued to point to different women, I felt I was still safe in his love for me. Only a moron could think I hadn't known.
Jack is an ass! How he could have deluded himself into thinking my desolation and stress had anything to do with being "stuck" as his caregiver while in my prime, just pisses me off! But after my anger subsided I was filled with just sorrow. Because he was becoming more and more locked in, more and more dependant, he was losing his ability to see beyond what was in front of him. Since he thought of himself as a burden, he assumed everyone else felt he was a burden. What an ass! I think I may have to rename this chapter, "Jack is an ass."
Clearly, anger and sorrow can coexist.
After checking on Jack's bruises and discovering the appalling way in which Josh had neglected him, I went,... no, actually I stormed up to Josh's room. I had intended to lay down the law and really give Josh some food for thought regarding his treatment of his father. But I found Josh weeping, sitting on his bed facing the window, holding a picture of his dad and he.
The picture was taken shortly after Jack and I had returned from our horrid trip to Baltimore. Jack was standing behind Josh, his arms draped over Josh's shoulder, teaching him how to tie a bow tie that went with his rental tux. Josh had been getting ready to head out to his senior prom. In the picture, he was smiling at his father's reflection in the mirror.
The boys hadn't yet been told about Jack's diagnosis when this picture was taken. My hand traced the image of my husband. I could see the lines of regret around Jacks eyes, the sorrow for what was not to be. But to the untrained eye, it simply appeared that Jack was focused on the task at hand.
Josh took the picture back and copied the movement I had just made, tracing the image of his father. I sat on the bed with my son and we cried together.
"You can see it now, can't you?" I took the picture and studied it again. Damn I was a good photographer to have captured that image!
"Yeah, I can."
"But up until today, you missed it, didn't you?"
"No I, ... yeah, I didn't see it until just now."
"Do you think it's possible you might have missed some other things?"
"Like what?"
"Think about it Josh. This morning you saw in this picture, a man focused on tying a tie. Now you see a man mourning the future he won't have with his son as he ties that bow tie. You see a father trying to pour every life lesson into learning how to tie a bow tie. A bow tie is not something most men are called upon to tie very often, Josh. A man who has to tie a bow tie, but doesn't know how, looks awfully foolish. No father ever wants his grown son to lack the skills a man needs no know."
I carefully replaced the frame on his dresser and turned to leave. As I walked out of Josh's room I gave him one last bit to think about; the reason for storming up here in the first place.
"I appreciate your concern for me, Josh I really do. But, don't you ever presume to know my mind without consulting me first. He is my love and my life and I'm ... he's ... I would gladly suffer anything and everything for the chance to keep him with me, whole and healthy. I would gladly give up everything to keep him with me for years and..." I stopped and then I closed the door. I had said enough to Josh for the time being.
The next night I was preparing dinner when Frank Hutchinson and Jack came in the front door. Once Jack was safely seated at the dining room table, Frank went back out the door and a minute later entered the house again carrying five large pizza boxes. Ceremoniously, he plopped the pizza boxes on the table and then Frank hollered for all three boys to come down for dinner. Not a one of them spoke to me or looked at me. They all sat at the table and began to devour the pizza.
"What is this? Could you at least have let me know you were bringing pizza home?" I was not exactly angry but have since been told that anger was the dominant emotion my body language displayed.
Brian and Braden attempted to answer but ended up spewing out bits of pizza instead. Frank threw some napkins their way and Jack turned to me and cleared his throat. This was his way of letting us know he wished to be heard by all of us.
"What's the big deal? You can just wrap up what you've already done and we can eat it tomorrow."
"The big deal is that I have just spent nearly an hour to make us a nice dinner knowing we'd all be home for dinner tonight. That was a lot of work Jack!"
"So what? You keep saying you can handle this. So, handle it." Jack had essentially dismissed me with that comment.
"That is so inconsiderate! I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble if I'd been told about the pizza! I would have taken some time to put my feet up and maybe even read something enjoyable! Instead I've been working toward putting a dinner on the table; wasting my time and my energy when you knew you were bringing home a pizza? As if I don't do enough around here!"
I threw up my hands and plopped down at the table. No sooner had I placed a slice of pizza on my plate I hear an urgent request for salt and pepper. After I brought that to the table I noticed no one had anything to drink, so I brought beers in for all of us. Jack spilled his beer when his fingers loosened around his bottle. No one else moved so I got up and cleaned him, then the table, then replaced his beer.
The entire dinner proceeded like this and when everyone got up and left the mess for me to take care of, I was ready to explode. Actually, I did explode. But, I got three young men and one middle aged man who used to be considered a guest and now was just another member of the family, clamoring to the kitchen to clean up.
They put the glass beer bottles in the trash, not in recycle. They put the pizza boxes on top of the freezer. Then they wiped the crumbs onto the floor! That was it!
"That is not how you clean up after pizza!" I yelled.
"Oh, sorry about that Tina, just tell us how you want it done and next time we will do it that way too." Frank was trying to make a point about something but I wasn't sure what, yet.
"Do you actually need to be told that glass goes to recycle, that empty pizza boxes need to be folded up to be put into the trash?"
"Tina! Will you bring me the piss bottle?" Jack called from the family room.
"Why do you have to keep calling it a piss bottle? It's a urinal bottle!"
What were they doing to me?
"Okay enough! Everyone into the family room right now!" I stared them all down as they filed into the room where Jack sat comfortably in his recliner. "What the hell is going on here? You are treating me like hired help, no worse! At least hired help would get paid, time off, maybe even hear a "good job" every now and then?"
They all smiled at each other and I was ready to smack the next smirk I saw.
"Then let me hire some help so you can see for yourself how differently you would be treated compared to someone hired to take care of me?"
Aha! So that was the plan. Wear me down until I cry uncle? For pity's sake, how dumb did they think I was?
"No, and I'm not having this discussion again. I can take care of my own husband and I will take care of my own husband. That is final." As I got up to make sure the discussion was over Jack said something that made my blood run cold.
"In that case, Frank, I want you to change my Medical Power of Attorney, my Living Will and my Advanced Directive. I give you and only you the right to make medical decisions and see that they're carried out. Because clearly you, and only you, will honor my decisions."
"WHAT!" I yelled; frozen to the spot.
"You can't be trusted Tina. You think your stubborn will is going to keep me alive? It won't. You think your love alone will keep my life worth living? Babe, you know what's going to happen in the..."
"Stop, I don't want to hear anymore."
