assisted loving

ken is gonna turn 74.
good news.
bad news.
the good news is that he’s here, (actually, right now, this very minute cuddled up next to me) and turning 74 in January; loving his life, enjoying every second. he’s so very good at that. he loves his life. like to the fucking hilt.
the bad news is that for me, he’s turning 74.
and that scares the shit out of me.
scares me so very much.
i know, i know … 70 is the new 50, the new sexy, the new levi’s, the new iPad, the new GE, the new gloria gaynor disco hit.
i know.
it’s not as old as it used to be, it’s all in the attitude, it’s just a number… i get it. I GET IT. i do.
but actually, truthfully, i don’t get it.
i’m trying desperately to get it.
i’m trying to embrace it, go with it. be joyous.
like the other day when he backed into a parked car, he didn’t look where he was going. i said, “honey, baby, uh oh whatdya think?” he said, “blindspot.” I immediately went straight to – thought – blindspot? bullshit…dementia.
and when he forgot to close and lock the front door, i said, “hey moo-moo, you left the door open.” he said, “hey, shit happens.” i immediately thought, huh, shit happens… incontinence. Incontinence happens.
and when the knob on the clothes dryer got all fucked up, and it stopped working and he decided a good way to attack this problem, was, well, to attack the problem with a screwdriver. i said, “baby-doll, why’d you attack the dryer knob with a screwdriver?” he said, “you know, uh, i was, uh, stoned.” “huh, i thought, right, stoned?

memory loss. i thought memory fucking loss. i thought, assisted living.

and so, these little things, small things, these new small things, the new 70 is just a number small things, scare me.
they do.
and talking about it helps me.
writing about it.
sharing it.
spilling it.

because, when i get scared, i retreat.

and when i retreat, i go to my room,
and when i go to my room, i go deep inside my head.
and when i’m deep inside my head the chatter is about dementia, and alzheimer’s, and incontinence, and i envision wheel chairs and ramps, and dribbling and more incontinence, and then i think, oh my god… oh my frickin’ god, my future is HERE, HOLY SHIT, I AM HERE NOW.
NOW.

i think my mom. i think her decline and how absolutely cruel it was, cruel & unforgiving. i think one minute she was buying new lipstick in her favorite shade, and then the next minute she was using a purple sharpie pen to fill in her eyebrows.

and I gotta be honest, being in the NOW, living in THIS MOMENT is virtually impossible for me. i can recall being in the NOW once in my entire life and that had to do with a pap smear.

but, i don’t wanna retreat. i wanna be present. so, i leave my room, and all that nasty bad chatter behind, and i walk into the living room where ken is cozy: sitting in front of a lovely fire, reading the NY Times and I look at him and he looks at me, and i look at him… and i slide in, cuddle up, right next to him on the couch, and he laughs.
a gorgeous, hearty, sexy laugh. a ken laugh.
and in that moment, the NOW moment, what i’m scared of … is losing ken. this ken. my ken.

my iKen.

because i have news for you, a hot flash…when he says to me, “hey you, i’m not join’ anywhere, you’re stuck with me forever,” i think – but don’t say, the words don’t come out of my mouth: forever isn’t long enough.

Category: Uncategorized 5 comments »

5 Responses to “assisted loving”

Georgie
January 8th, 2012 at 6:39 pm
This is so relevant, Amy!!! My husband is 64, still young, like Ken……but he does much of the same stuff. Constantly losing things, forgetting everything, doing weird things like driving erratically!!! If I say anything at all, he snaps back with a defensive, inappropriate response. WTF…..is what I think to myself every day. Is it just him that acts this way…..is it just me who feels this way??

Thank you sharing and letting me know that I am not alone. oxoxoxoxo
Hollye Dexter
January 9th, 2012 at 11:08 am
Oh Amy- my husband has been leaving the front door open and driving away from gas stations with the nozzle still in the tank since he was in his twenties. I think part of that is just man-brain. They aren’t multi-taskers so if they’re thinking about one thing, all else falls to hell.
Ken is one of the sharpest, most passionate people I know. He loves life too much to let it slip from him. Worry is a waste of your precious time with your amazing man.
Go and love the heck out of him and stop worrying! Enjoy sharing your life with your iKen. He’s a happy guy, on fire for life. He’s gonna be around for a long, long time.
xo
DebraDeAngelo
January 9th, 2012 at 11:38 am
Ah…. you are projecting into the future, and the older we get, the more perilous that can be. Stay in the moment…. that’s your handrail to hold onto.
And… I know just what you mean. Every little bump or blip in memory… every ache and pain… I wonder if it’s the first step on a road I don’t want to travel, or just an anomaly.
Be. Here. Now. Don’t waste your present moment by being in fast-forward mode.

P.S. I love the heck out of you, Amy!
Kelvin Wade
January 11th, 2012 at 2:12 pm
Wow. This was relevant as hell for me. It hits a bit too close to home. The love of my life is…well, I can’t write her age. I’ll just say she’s fifteen years older than me. We’ve been together for fifteen years. And I find myself worrying about losing her from time to time. My struggle is to stay in the NOW. Years ago I was involved in a long distance relationship (UGH!). I lived in California and my girlfriend lived in Colorado. When she was here or I was there, I sometimes caught myself clock and calendar watching. But I knew if I kept my eye on the calendar, I’d miss the moments we had together. The future is the future. We have now. And I want to suck all the marrow out of now.
Donald K. Sanders
January 11th, 2012 at 5:24 pm
Amy,
I know for a fact that you will never lose Ken.
Donald