The calm after the storm

Things have calmed down around here. Leon seems OK as of yesterday. I talked with him, like a Mother would talk to her mis-behaved child. He understands (I hope) now that getting that angry only makes it worse for everyone. We had a good afternoon and evening and I cooked what he requested for dinner.

Leon is fighting this disease and making himself and everyone around him miserable. You can see the constant struggle he goes through in trying to hide his symptoms. It's hard to watch. My husband can barely walk, his left leg drags, his right leg is spastic, his arms flail out as he is walking, trying to balance and his upper torso bends to the right, making up for the loss of the left leg. It's not a pretty sight. His eyes are vacant with a glassy look to them. Remember the Stepford Wives and that "look" they had? That's my husband. In my husband's mind, he thinks no one knows what's wrong with him. He will listen to you talk, notice I said, Listen. It may look like he is having a conversation with someone, but he is only nodding his head, not giving any feedback on the conversation because he doesn't know how anymore. He watches TV with volume turned up quite loud. Not because he can't hear, he can't comprehend what they are saying because his brain doesn't understand what they are saying. The loud TV is most annoying. When his TV is finally turned off as I crawl into bed, the silence that follows is such a relief to my mind.

I told him that fighting this is not doing him any good, only making it worse, that anyone who sees him knows there is something wrong, get it out in the open, talk about it freely, that this monster of a disease is going to win anyways, make the best of it, use what you have now to your advantage. He "seemed" to understand what I was saying until I mentioned Jack, and how he wants his Dad to be more open with him about all of this. The look on his face told me he did understand what he was doing. So, he took Jack aside and talked with him. What a difference in my Jack. Jack knows, but his Father has never, not once, talked to him about this disease. I have. I saw a bond develope yesterday, a bond that was made from pure love for his child. My heart is full today. I am hoping this is a start for us, a start that is only going to end in death, but I'll take it.

I remember having 7 children, all natural. I remember Dr's and nurses telling me to not fight it, go with the pain. It hurts more if you fight it. The end result is you get a beautiful baby, that the pain was all worth it once you see your child. It's so true. Yes, this is different, the end result is not going to end in a beautiful experience, but, the memories will. The memories of a husband and father who was struck down with this horrible disease, but, who loved his family more than anything. A man who, while fishing up in the mountains, felt so close to God. The look on his face when he caught a big fish, the pride when his little boy would watch as his daddy cleaned the fish, and how after telling the story of catching the "big one" to friends & family, that fish got bigger and bigger each time he told it.