Adventure 446: The Story of George, The Great Ordeal, 42

April 16, 2018

Real time found George looking sharp, happily waiting for Vina to come down for breakfast. Upon her arrival, she hands him her brother Ed's pills, takes hold of George's walker with one hand, and they proceed to breakfast where George hands Ed his pills and then moves to pull out Vina's chair like a chivalrous knight of old. He's either recalcitrant or mindless in terms of remembering his pills. Reasons matter little. The bottom line is that he now requires  absolute daily monitoring, although this raises an ethical question. If he is recalcitrant, and is just intentionally forgetting his pills, is it still his choice to control his own life. Maybe it's just a last vestige of independence. On the other hand, it could be deemed as negligent on our part to just let his daily meds fall where they may. Without real proof that he's just being willful, we're opting for intervention. And so it goes. It's still very obvious that his will to live is bolstered by his relationship with Vina. In that sense, it seem best to keep him as healthy as possible. And so go the trials and tribulations of George.

Speaking of the great ordeal (Some bibles say ordeal; some say tribulation), our pastor was speaking on heaven this past Sunday. It struck me that one of the angels called the group waiting to enter heaven as those who have "come out of the great tribulation". It's interesting in the light of the fact that I'm attending the funeral of a high school classmate this morning, which follows on the heels of the Doctor's death, and flies in the face of everyday looking at George and seeing my own mortality march toward its uncertain end, and all the more consternation that comes from watching my best buddy struggle through his cancer treatment. I try my best to be supportive, singing songs of hope, thanking the Lord for every gift, and praying often for a miracle reprieve. And then there's Richard Rohr who lately has been talking about the unity of the body and the spirit and how true blessings come from accepting our bodies as vessels of God, as sacred urns for our souls. It's all pretty heavy stuff, which is why I must maintain my mantra that life is good, especially today. And for me the best part of the day is when Judy and I go to bed. Our ritual is to settle in, wiggle together into about a thousand points of contact classically arranged like silver spoons in a drawer. Before drifting off to sleep, we play a little footsie, I squeeze her tightly, then softly in different places, and then we say, "Love you, Bunny." It's comfort beyond words, and it adds weight to the argument that while life is an ordeal full of tribulation, it is also most joyous. It's just as Barbara Brown Taylor says, "My body is what connects me to all these other people (Judy being the closest connection). Wearing my skin is not a solitary practice but one that brings me into communion with all these other embodied souls." Sharing life, building relationships,  and trusting the promise, these, too, are part of the ordeal.

 My best buddy, Mr. Ulmen.

 Leticia giving George a massage.