Vertigo

Lynd Ward Unfinished Wordless Novel

I was on my back last night when I began to feel dizzy and it reminded me of the vertigo that I had four years ago, though last night I did not get sick but the dizziness frightened me.  I did not tell Rose because I did not want to frighten her but then I became too frightened not to say something. This vertigo reminded me of a print by Lynd Ward from his unpublished woodcut novel where the man is floating in a world of numbers and letters that does not make any sense. This woodcut was completed during the later years of Ward's life when he was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. It also brought back the day that I became aware that something was tragically wrong with me and went to see a doctor. That was actually the first (incorrect) diagnosis that the doctor suggested before an MRI was taken based on the fact that I could no longer speak correctly or remember simple things like the time of the day, the month and day of the week. I remember how helpless I felt and then, ironically how relieved I felt that it was not Alzheimer's but a brain tumor.  At least, I thought, I have a chance with a brain tumor...Alzheimer's spelled slow death.  I forgot how hopeless I felt and how quickly I grasped at any hope even if it mean dealing with radiation and chemotherapy.  And now I am grasping with a sense of hope that this vertigo will go away so that I can read or look outside without feeling sick. I close my eyes and wait and see what he has planned for me now?

The Beast at my Side

The Beast at my Side

He seems to come out when I am tired and anxious. He has always been around me even as a boy. Since my brain cancer, I have worked through my aphasia to regain some confidence and trust with my language skills. The beast is always around. He doesn't even have to show his face.  Sometimes he grinds his teeth at night which wakes me up or pounds my chest until I feel like I am having a heart attack. A leg cramp works effectively as well as itching that does not seem to stop. He loves watching me scratch myself raw. When I feel as though I am getting better, I forget the simplest skills--I can't seem to add simple numbers or remember a word that I want to use in a sentence. I spent more time correcting my grammar and still find mistakes after reading a post over and over again. I tell myself not to pay attention to his abuse--that I am a better person and that goodness will reward me.  But that parochial thinking is getting more difficult to accept. The worse days are when I no longer have the energy to fight him and I let myself sink down into this dark room where I have a moment of peace listening to myself breathing before he bombards my head with a cacophony of crazy sounds and images. How can anyone understand these feelings since what everyone around me sees is a pleasant enough man--a man they remember with respect and admiration. And when they see me today, other than loosing my hair (which I probably will never recover) and a little weight, they cannot see the beast.  The first words out of their stupid mouths is "how good I look." Instead of smiling at them, I would like to bite off their heads! I was not prepared for this reaction. Having this thought and feeling, I suddenly noticed that the beast at my side was quiet for a moment.  What was that about?