Now 104 pounds
A few days ago I drove home from Grand Marais. It was past 8 p.m. when I rolled into town. I had this feeling that I should go see Barry so I drove to his care center. I grabbed a bottle of wine out of my car that had one serving of wine left in it. Once again I thought he was dead when I walked in. He was in his hospital gown, and it was pulled way up so you could see the diaper he wears. He now weighs just 104 pounds and the diaper is so big that it could be wrapped around him twice.
His eyes were open. I looked at his chest as I always do now and I didn’t think it was moving. I thought to myself: this is the day Barry has gone to heaven. But as he always does when I pull up the chair to sit, he woke up very startled to see me. I pulled his gown down, unable to look at those skinny legs starting to kick again. I sat down, poured myself that small glass of wine, held his hand and tried hard to imagine what we might be doing if Barry didn’t have this horrible FTD.
I could not think about anything else except being stuck in this place and wanting to head back up north as fast I could. It is easier to imagine what could have been, what should have been when I am not at the care center. Barry fell back to sleep. I finished the wine and drove back to my apartment to unpack, wait and try to imagine what might have been — or what will be.