Monday, November 22, 2010
While Eric was in Canada with a woman he claimed to be in love with, I was left in the care of my attendant Elaine who certainly didn’t have the patience it required to care for me twenty-four seven. She also didn’t possess the skills of a therapist, an open ear or at the very least a shoulder to cry on. Her friend Dale, a nice man but with severe psychological problems of his own, was a gentle soul and took an immediate liking to me.
So here I was…my life in the hands of two people I barely knew, my heart ripped asunder just as neatly as my cat Bilbo gutted a mouse, and betrayed…by my fiancée’ of 12 years, my once close and loving family, my friends, my God and worst of all my body. I spent the days submerged in my laptop. I found a website for and by disabled people called the carecure community. http://sci.rutgers.edu This site got me through some dark times in last 5 ½ years.
But then the night would come. I don’t know if I looked forward to Eric’s call or dreaded in advance the time it would be over. Why was he calling me anyway? He said he wanted to make sure I was alright. Alright? Compared to what? I just wanted him to come home and told him so every call. He always told me he loved me but spoke in subdued tones as if afraid of being over heard. I couldn’t take the mixed signals and usually went to bed in state of panic and sadness that would well up inside me until I wept out loud in rage and angst sometimes for hours. Until Elaine would come charging into my room like a wild bleached-blonde boar screaming louder than a banshee for me stop my God awful, motherfUcking whining and son-of-a-bitching sniveling RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!!! If poor Dale tried to come to my rescue, she would freak out on him actually picking up the nearest item that would suffice as a weapon and crack it over his head. I told Eric about this … he did not believe me.