.....Ed's Final Rodeo Part I

Of course, I did not believe one word of what Ed was telling me. My mind was a tornado swirling with all different scenarios. Was it possible that for once, he was honest? No, that couldn’t possibly be he had moved on, and I wanted to move on too. Even if this new situation was one word of truth, what the hell was I suppose to do about it? I had no magic wand to make all his problems go away. I had plenty of my own to worry about without letting him in my world again, didn’t I? Thinking back on all, I would have to find an answer for; maybe it was a good thing to not work with all my facilities. Somewhere during that conversation, I just could not listen anymore. I hung up on Ed, hoping he would not make a second attempt at whatever scheme he was conjuring up now. The sound of his voice was so disturbing to me. I was so confused about how I really felt about this person. I was still legally committed to him, after all. I should hate him; I should not have cared if he was breathing or not.

Have you ever heard the word “Anosognosia”? When we talk about anosognosia in mental illness, we mean that someone is unaware of their mental health condition or can’t perceive their situation accurately. Anosognosia is a common symptom of certain mental illnesses, perhaps the most difficult to understand for those who have never experienced it. If you are curious to find out more about this phenomenon, here is a link to a short article that can explain it. (https://www.nami.org/About-Mental-Illness/Common-with-Mental-Illness/Anosognosia) I have had these monkies on my back for so long. I do not believe I ever really knew if I was “UP or when I was “Down.” What was expected and what wasn’t.

When the phone rang again, the urge to not answer it was almost enough to stop me, but almost wasn’t good enough. Oh, wait, it wasn’t Ed as I blasted the phone with “what the hell do you want from me”? It was an unfamiliar voice that introduced himself as Dr (can’t remember his name). I am a surgeon at Corpus Christi Medical Center. “Sure you are,” my brain silently answered him. I managed to find some sense of civility and greeted him properly. He explained that Ed had told him everything ( “ oh, I bet he did,” I thought to myself). He said that Ed was under his treatment and was planning on having Ed transferred to Houston's MD Anderson Cancer Center. The doctor told me Ed would need a next of kin to authorize treatments and other affairs to be admitted as an indigent patient. So was he suggesting that next of kin was going to be me? Oh, I don’t think so; this was his circus and his monkies this time around. I am sure I told him that there was no way, was he aware I was in Florida, not exactly a day trip to Texas. I am not quite sure I had totally grasped the situation that Ed had found himself. Cancer is one of those words that shock you when you hear it, even if you are not personally affected.

Not to get off subject, this is just a short side trip that we can address after you know my whole story. I had issues with Heath Anxiety as it was. My health anxiety gives me the sensation of being held hostage by my own body. The protection of my physical body is not so much a healthy choice. I would take every new junk science pill on the market. It is an uncontrollable addiction to a survival mechanism. Realistically speaking, nothing would happen to me health-wise if I set my worries aside and stopped my daily inspections. My rational side occasionally reminds me of that. However, worrying has become habitual. The hardest part is deconstructing this pattern—a skill I have yet to perfect. I’ve lived with this condition for as long as I can remember enough to grow accustomed to it and learn how to manage it. Though my anxiety is still there, I can assure you I’ve significantly improved. Later on, I will give you some valuable tips on how to avoid getting into this trap.

So probably all I really got out of my conversation with that doctor was the word Cancer. Even at this point, I was doubting what I was hearing. I am sure Ed could have gotten someone to pretend they were a doctor. Needless to say, I went to bed that night with no intention of getting much sleep.

I can not tell you the exact timing of the next events. I had no transportation, REMEMBER the REPO man. I had very little money and Krista to worry about. I had no other choice but to stay right there in Florida, did I? After hearing my next move, I know any sane person would doubt my sanity. There I was on a flight to Corpus Christi, Tx. Krista stayed in Florida with Heather; I think I borrowed the plane fare from one family member. The whole flight, I wanted to open the Emergency Exit and change this nightmare.

Remember me telling you earlier that I would take any vagrant home since I was a young child. That habit to this day still sticks with me. As much as I hated Ed, somehow, my heart could not see him having to do this all by himself. I fought and fought that thought for many many days to come.

I got off the plane in Corpus, and I can almost see Ed to this day. I did not recognize him; I seriously didn’t. Last I had seen him; he was 5”11 and over 220 pounds. I about dropped to my knees; this could not possibly happen to him in just a few months. He weighed less than 125 pounds at that point. He had aged 20 years or more, and his always full head of hair was almost gone. I could not find any words to say. I am very rarely ever at a loss for words, but I was without one thing to say. When we walked to the parking garage, I could not help but wonder if the car he was driving around in was still the one he rented on my American Express Card months ago. That sent another shock through my system. I sure wish I could remember any of the conversations that went on as we drove to where Ed stayed in Corpus. He still had over a week until he was to be seen in Houston. I had no plan, none, but I could tell by looking at him that Ed was in no condition even to know what the plan was for him. I was going to have to organize this clusterf**k somehow.

I know most of you are not familiar with a place in Chropus Christ called Flower Bluff. It is on the right side of the causeway that takes you down to all the beaches and a place where tourists go. I have not been in that area for many years, so I have no idea what it is like now. I can tell what it was like then, and it was not Palm Springs back in 1990, I promise you that. As Ed pulled in front of this (I can find no other word for it ) SHACK, I asked myself again, “you are kidding me, right?. Was I actually suppose to survive life in that cockroach ridden thing he called home? Don’t get me wrong, I never wanted a lot of colossal luxury. Having running water in the house and AC in the summer in Texas is not precisely luxury. Ed had been working at the newly build Aquarium in Corpus. One of his workmates let him stay in this thing they called a house. The job had not lasted long before he got sick enough to do anything but lay on the futon he called a bed. I looked around, and it was filthy, which with all Ed’s character flaws, messiness was not one of them. Ed, to his credit, I guess, always wanted to keep things neat & clean. The only running water in the house was in the tiny kitchen sink. Where was I going even to shower? Fortunately for me, the neighbor had a hose along the side of their house. Many nights I showered with a glass of wine in one hand and holding the hose in the other.

The second night there, a police car pulled in front of the house. I was waiting for them to do a drug search or something like that. That area was overrun with dealers, prostitutes, and just about every kind of antisocial human you could imagine. They came to the door and asked for me-----Me, why the hell would they want me. They had located the now reported stonen car in my name sitting right out front. I was trying to explain it was not me that rented the vehicle. It was my husband using my credit card. It had been months, and besides, I never had seen the car he rented anyway. Ed came to the door, and the cops immediately put him in handcuffs and walked out to the car. He was in flip-flops and no shirt on. That was another one of those moments you can not unsee. The tough guy, the abuser, the liar, the cheater, the thief, and many other things I could lay my mouth to was now standing looking like he stood at his death door. The police were conversing between themself in the front of the vehicle. They had made a conscious decision not to take Ed just the stolen goods. They probably wondered what the hell they were going to do with him, that is how terribly bad he looked. When they opened the trunk, there again was my next conundrum. There were piles and piles of paper, which mostly consisted of past years' income tax filings. I am talking eight years' worth to be exact. See, there was yet another place where trusting that he would surely do something as important as that was my bad once again. That “my bad” would come back to haunt me for many many years. I had signed every one of those filings assuming they were filed. They uncuffed him, and we watch as the tow truck pulled away with the now stolen vehicle. So now, to add to the problems, we were without any transportation.

Ed was always very meticulous about his hygiene and appearance. I had not slept with him since I had been there. To be totally honest, his appearance really bothered me. I knew he sweated a lot for various reasons. I chose to sleep in the one chair in that shack rather than risk Crabs or God knows what else I might come in contact with. One night I offered to help him take a shower after the sun went down. He took me up on my offer, and after dark, I took shower stuff and headed outside. I remember wondering what he had been doing before I arrived to stay half clean. The water was cold, and Ed was so very weak from the Interferons they had been giving him for his cancer that his legs were like noodles. Ed seemed to have every side effect listed.

flu-like symptoms such as headache, tiredness, and weakness

chills

fever

trouble sleeping

nausea

vomiting

diarrhea

irritability or other mood changes

muscle pain

low levels of white blood cells

loss of appetite

itchy skin

That shower is one of those -never forget events. I had initially been told that Ed’s cancer had started in his testicles. That he had gone initially to the hospital because his testicles had swollen to 6 times their size. What I had not found out yet was it was Renal Cell Cancer and in his kidneys. Unfortutually for him, they had already Castrated him before they found the origin of his cancer. Talk about jumping the gun, or maybe it was some Karma. Don’t forget this was in the late eighties, and we have come leaps and bounds in cancer research since then.

LORD FORGIVE ME, BUT THE FIRST THINK THAT RAN THROUGH MY MIND WAS “GOD HAS ONE HELL OF A SENSE OF HUMOR AND WHAT POETIC JUSTICE IT WAS TO SEE HIM BALL LESS. (Nutless)

I kept asking myself what the hell I was doing, what the hell was wrong with me that I felt any loyalty to this man that had so abused and tormented me. I was not a saint and never expired to be one. Mother Teresa, I am not. I have made more mistakes and committed more sin then I felt I could ever atone for, so why was I doing this? Have I really gone from having mental health issues to insanity? No, here is the reason my feelings were like that. https://www.thehotline.org/resources/why-do-i-love-my-abuser/ This is an excellent article that explains my behavior—the reasoning behind that behavior of still taking care of your abuser long after the actual abused had stopped. Years later, I started researching some of the actions that I finally got answers to my questions.

We were absolutely broke, poor, destitute, indigent; however, you want to describe our situation. There would be many days that the menu included red cabbage & Italian Dressing. That is probably the best way to explain our financial affairs. Ed mostly slept, and I mostly sat beside a borrowed fan and smoked one cigarette after another.

The day we were to leave for MD Anderson, his ride never materialized. We had to find other transportation, and it seems that Greyhound was our best option. It was approximately an 8 hour trip from Corpus to Houston via bus. We would make that trip five times during the time I was in Corpus. To this day, I have no idea how I made those trips. Ed’s weakness kept him from even carrying a suitcase. He barely held any conversation and the chair in his hospital room. I had to sleep on was no Sleep Number Bed. I did make a friend while there, and my only refuge was the little door we found to the roof where we would go to talk. Ed and I would go to the center for two or three days while he had his chemo, then back to Corpus for a week, then do it all over again. Ed was considered indigent, so, fortunately, they had a social program that did cover our bus fare.

Had I even wanted to leave, I literally had no way to get anywhere. Life was pretty much the same every day. I am not sure what triggered me to decide I could not do what I was doing one more minute. Ed’s doctor at MD Anderson was a saint and offered to keep me supplied with Xanax after I melted down one day in Ed’s room. We never talked that I remember, it was lonely, and I have never felt so unloved in my life. The mind is such a miraculous thing; we can make ourselves believe just about anything if we tell ourselves enough. I refused to deal with the future or think of anything past the next few hours at a time. I was a survivor, even if it was hard to convince myself of that thought. If I didn’t think about it, then I would not have to worry about it, right?

Suicidal thoughts started to creep into my everyday thoughts. It is a funny thing, well not a HA HA funny thing, about ideas like that. It is not a selfish thing; it is a survival thing. You have to survive what is happening to you, and the only way to survive at that point is to end it. You believe the lie that you tell yourself. “There is no way, absolutely nothing I can do to change things.” Even God has abandoned you – hell, you have left yourself. It is an awful feeling, a painful thing. You want your brain to shut up and your body to shut down. At some point, I reached that place. However, I have always been somewhat of a coward when it came to suicide. I will try one more option before I took that awful plunge.

I believe I already told you that my relationship with my mother was anything but loving. It was a real love-hate kind of thing. However, she was not poor, indigent, eating cabbage, and dressing for meals. I had to make that phone call, the one I was avoiding like COVID. I knew what I would have to listen to while I begged her for money to come home. There is no sense going into the details of that call. Still, by the time I was done with the neighbors' phone, I would get the money to trip to Florida and plane fares for Krista and me to head to my hometown. Erie, Pa.

Ed and I made our final trip to Houston. When I left MD Anderson, it was lonely going back to Corpus to collect my few belongings and board a plane to Clearwater, Florida. Ed was to stay at MD Anderson to try another treatment plan. In my mind, that timing was the perfect time to escape. God had provided me the door I needed to walk through.

I have to admit I was scared, sick, and worn out both physically and mentally. Ed was not really any company, not much of a bodyguard. Still, there was somewhat of a sense of security having him travel with me. The Greyhound Station, where I had to go, was a seedy part of town, which was on a good day. Were those people looking at me? Was I getting paranoid, psychotic, was I finally going to go mad? I wonder if you are losing your mind, are you aware that you are, or oblivious to it.

I arrived safely back in Corpus and lucky for me that my neighbor with the hose offered to take me to the airport. I felt so dirty inside and out. The one good thing that happened on my cabbage diet was I lost weight that I needed to lose. I guess there is a silver lining in all things if you really look for it. However, the few things I had as clothing were almost too big to wear with the weight loss. Feeling nasty and looking like a bag lady and my suitcase closed with ducktape, I walked through the Corpus Airport corridors. I arrived in Clearwater, Florida, to collect Krista gather her things, and do the whole Airport thing again now with poor Kris in tow.

When Krista and I got off the plane back in Erie, I expected my mother to be there. I had prepared myself to listen to all my faults and things I should have done differently on the hour trip to her house. Instead, there he was again, my brother. I wasn’t sure I still had friends in Erie. It had been a long time since I had resided there. But, I knew staying with my mother was my only option, at least for a while. Once again, total silence on the trip to my mom's; I was grateful for that at least. Gratitude was something I lacked back then. Here I was in my just over the middle line in my thirties and crawling home to Mommy (at least that is what it felt like to me). I thought at least that maybe I would end up having so time to get my ducks in a row once again, maybe find a doctor to help me. Maybe give Krista, who was nine at the time, some sense of normalcy. That was not to be !!!!!

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. Albert Einstein