Monday, March 19, 2012

Wearing Diapers Again

Whenever my daughter sneezes, I ask, “Did ya wet your pants?!”

She rolls her eyes at me and, playing my game, answers, “Sure did. Nice ’n’ warm.”

We’re strange like that, springing off each other’s thoughts. Free association, wild style. I’m drawn to quick-witted types who keep my mind humming.

Like my spirit mate of 27 years. Unfortunately, he contracted a nasty case of influenza, so on top of all his regular doctor and therapy appointments, he has had to add another to the docket. What a terrible waste of precious time and energy. Though he’s on the mend and heads into work, his vigor quickly wanes. Never the poorer, he’s endowed with a wry sense of humor.

“Your body is telling you to go home and rest,” I said to him, even though he’s extraordinarily driven and likes spending alone time at his recording studio where he composes symphonies, concertos, and other movements you don’t flush.

He’s a rare person who has become famous, or should I say, notorious, prehumously vs. the more common posthumously. Still, his knees almost always quiver when he’s standing before an appreciative audience. I can relate.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to get together soon,” he said with a slight air of doubt in his voice. Seems when a person is ill, it’s hard to imagine feeling better. When a body’s energy is zapped, tending only to restoring health, it can feel as if you’re never going to be better. “It’s hell getting old,” he said. “Takes longer to heal.”
“Maybe we should reverse the process and start getting younger but without needing diapers.” Then, as if on cue, something flew up my nose. "A-choo! (pause) Whoops! Too late."

If you don’t understand, wait a few years.

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