2018.06.25

It's MW's birthday today. The big five-oh.

How many more? Ten. Unless my research is way off; ten max.

How many more until she finds out? Now this is an interesting question. Here we're in territory where research is no help. In fact, "research" has probably skewed my perception of reality on this one.

Research has it that once the symptoms become noticeable, the decline is typically swift.

As it was with my mother in law.

MW, on the other hand, is still charging full-speed ahead! Or, rather, charging full-speed in circles. Five years and counting of nothing getting done.

How many more?

***

And, as if we needed more proof of they cyclical nature of this disease - I've another cracked tooth. Again, not much pain yet, just a nuisance. The pain will come later.

Recall last time this happened was at the very onset of MW's Huntington's disease symptoms. She wouldn't have been able to deal with me going to the dentist, so I did it behind her back. I would have gotten away with it too, except that extracting two wisdom teeth left the side of my face black, blue and swollen. Hard to hide and any lie would come across worse than the truth.

This time I think I could probably ask her for permission to go to the dentist, and she would likely give it; because she has gotten better about some things.

***

More buzz about suicide. Yes, they're still on about Bourdain and Spade. Wankers. MW sat through an entire program about suicide prevention and then came to me with the following wisdom; "I think if someone wants to kill themselves, you should just let them."

She revised it somewhat: "I guess if they're an adult. Kids you should try to stop."

Further: "I suppose they have to give out the hotline number, though I can't see what good it does."

Indeed.

For my part; listening to the sagacity of the doctors, therapists, and "survivors"; I'm struck with how fucking wrong they all are.

None of them could face me or back me down. With Huntington's Disease, suicide is a solution. All their talk is bullshit here.

I could never kill anybody; but if I told MW she has the disease, well, that's a death sentence.

If, however, I killed myself, MW would have to get help. Real help. It wouldn't save her life, but it might make her final days happier. She couldn't possibly be more miserable then she is with me now. Probably, anyway. Very hard to tell with dementia.

Either way, I would be out of it. Released.

All those idiots talking about how "suicide isn't the answer"? They obviously haven't been asked the right question.