2018.03.05

Huntington's Disease: The reason God invented murder/suicide.

Superimposed over the image of a CAG repeat chart.... I bet that'll sell some T-shirts!

Yeah, I guess you could say it's been a rough few weeks. MW has started insisting I stay home from work to "help" her while she treats the fungal infection on her feet - which has, apparently, now spread to her hands(?).

So I get to stay home and be a full-time honest to goodness caregiver. Visiting angel; that's me. Just ignore the horns.

Mary Mary quite contrary
What makes your horns grow?

First and foremost, I gain Satanic stature by propagating and maintaining the lie. MW does not have Huntington's Disease. Uh huh. And how exactly does this work?

I help her apply for dozens - hundreds - of jobs, but every time she fails a face to face interview? Well, that's because MW is over-qualified, or they already know who they're going to hire but have to go through the steps for legality sake, or (and this is rapidly becoming my favorite) everybody is racists.

Also, MW loves to make big plans. Travel plans. Home improvement plans. Even just diner with friends plans. Great, I say.

You plan it, I say, and I'll show up.

Ha!

The plans inevitably spiral away into the realm of the attainability bizarre and nothing gets done.

But that's not my problem. I absolve myself from any responsibility. "Whatever you want to do; just let me know, and we'll do it."

I say that twenty times a day and nothing ever gets done.

Fine by me.

What a fucking asshole, right? Yup. But check it: the only way to actually get things done would be to override MW's nascent dementia. And the only possible (not certain, only possible) way to do that would be to address the issue.

Tell her she's sick.

End her, basically. Drop her in that hole.

Or, maybe, if she were more aware of her circumstances, she would allow me to make those plans; see those friends; do the important things.

Before it's too late.

Rolls reversed; that's what I'd want.

Of course, rolls reversed, I'd've killed myself three years ago. Maybe five.

And let us not forget the last, but certainly not least, reason why my demonic horns have grown so huge and intractable: MW routinely berates, curses, belittles, yells-at, accuses, and insults me.

Whatever. I take it.

But, goddamn, it makes me feel like a monster.

***

The other day MW knocked me down. I guess she was trying to be playful (?), but when she pushed me, I went sprawling. This speaks to the freakish strength the chorea has bestowed. I'm a big guy. MW isn't all that much. But when she "accidentally" bumps into me, I'm scooping myself up from the floor.

More fun and games with HD.