By Darleen Hunzinger
PROMPT — What is Love?
How do you love someone
and cringe
at the sound of their voice
all at the same time...
When that person
has leapt
from her wheelchair
and stood
eyes blazing
body rigid and shaking
voice reverberating off the walls
as she exploded into rage
in front of her neurologist
who, after quietly observing
her behavior
then turned to you
gave you
a penetrating look
and said
we'll fix that...
followed by, you call me anytime you need help
When you've had to call her neurologist
because that person
fired a malevolent stare
at her grandson
as she shoved a full size
sectional couch
out of her way
and hissed
I'll kill you!
when he didn't jump up
and readjust the window blinds
to her satisfaction
When you've had to intervene because that person
with eyes laser focused
on her doctor
was growling deep in her throat
coiled and ready to spring
as her doctor continued
to tell her
she needed to lose weight
When you've had to change cars
and move that person
to the backseat
because, along with her repertoire
of grabbing your right arm
the wiper control
and your visor
she has hit you
in the head
now, since she can no longer reach you
she pounds the back of the seat
while she yells at you
when you don't turn
or change lanes
at her command
When that person has blamed you for everything in her life
that makes her unhappy
and is a master manipulator
trying to come between you
and your husband
when those attempts failed
trying the same thing
with your husband and his brother
persisting
until she achieved success
with certain friends and family somehow convincing them
there was nothing wrong with her and sparking their anger
with you
for medicating her
taking away her car keys
and moving her to a group home
When two days
after you move her in
that person has called
your sister-in-law
and announced her intention
of running away
forcing the group home
to go on lock-down
When that person
has strategized a second plan
for she and another lady
who had been content
in the home for 8 years
to escape
causing the other resident's family
to consider uprooting
and relocating
their loved one
When all of her contriving
and conspiring
to get rid of you
and regain
her independence
has failed
that person has proceeded
to weaponize
her vocal cords against you
by yelling
arguing
criticizing
berating
making false accusations
ordering you around
and demanding impossible things
while at the same time
wielding her hands to
grab you
shove you
and hit you
As a result of all of this
you are in constant
911 mode
dealing with her medical
and behavioral crises
while your less important things are cast aside
your weeds are waist high
your flowers are brittle
your house is buried in dirt
your haircut is six months past due
you and your husband
are living on fast food
and gas station snacks
and your pillow nods
a distant hello
day after day as you rush past
You have sacrificed
almost everything
to take care of her
and yet
she continues
With the authority
of a 5-star general
the tenacity and world view
of a toddler
and the arrogant, filter-less mouth
of a teenager
all twisted together
in her 76 year old brain
she has spent
the last five years
perfecting the art
of attacking you this way
You struggle to look beyond
the hateful,
glaring
face
and the angry
snarling
voice
and remember who she used to be many years ago
you try to remember laughter shopping, lunches
and quilt shows together
you try to remember
even two hours ago
when she looked at you
and said thank you
or yesterday
when the two of you
watched a baking show
and chatted about macaroons
or last week
when she told the doctor
my daughter-in-law
is so good to me
You leave the room
to refocus
you say
this isn't her
this isn't her
you plead with God for strength
and endurance
your brain spins
you pace the floor
you fail multiple attempts
to take a deep breath
when you are, at last, calm enough
to fill your lungs
you force yourself
to turn around
and walk back in
Some days she falls asleep
and you sneak out early
other times she holds you hostage
extra long demanding
you do projects for her
that will be cast aside
and forgotten
before
tomorrow
At last, this day
anyway, is over
it's time for you to escape
The voice
eyes
and hands
that have hated you
for most of the day
radiate
peace and happiness
her lips curve upward
in a true smile
as she says, good bye
I love you
You burn with the need to embrace the love she is offering
but, after how she has treated you
those words
coming from her mouth
tear you apart
you battle
with yourself
to reply in kind
you overpower your tongue
but don't have the strength to control your face
so, it's an unsmiling
see you tomorrow
I love you
yet
you mean the words
with all your heart
Nevertheless, as you speak
you take a few steps backwards
with the plan of disappearing
before
she can say anything else
You stumble to your car
open the door
and crawl inside
the tears
that you out maneuvered
all day
beginning to trickle
down your cheeks
white knuckling the steering wheel
and the I love you
you put it in drive
and touch the gas
Before you have even made it
past three houses
your phone rings
she says your name
the trickle widens to a river
you pull over
and press your hands against
the knot in your stomach
She barks some orders
followed by what should be
an endearment
instead
using the same tone
she commands you
drive safely
You croak out,
I will and hang up
as you are putting your phone away
the sound of a text alert
makes your heart rate skyrocket
the words blur and smear
into each other
Her pcp
just one of her 18 doctors
is reminding you
of an appointment
for 8am tomorrow
you manage to type confirm
and send
you beat down the desire
to scream
throw your phone
hit something
or even just drive away
and never return
Instead, you attempt
to put the phone away
and regather your self control
you reach for the pocket
of your purse
and miss
try again
and drop the phone
on the third try
you get it back
into your purse
and manage to zip the pocket
about halfway
before catching some fabric
jamming the whole thing
and giving up
With a sob
you turn off the engine
undo your seat belt
fold yourself
between the steering wheel
and the door
and relinquish this day
face crumpling
chest and shoulders heaving
you let the, now
raging white water
purge and soothe
your soul.
Darleen Hunzinger is a mid-fifties American woman with many interests and desires, but two intense loves: God and her husband. After five years of family care-giving resulted in her loss of health and subsequent diagnosis of FND (functional neurological disorder), she came to expressive writing as a tool for coping. Darleen writes from Congress, Arizona.
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