I am alive--beep beep beep

James and I created a very silly game when we were teenagers. I do not know how it started. One of us would lie on the bed and pretend to be dead and the other would attempt to prove if the person was in fact alive--we called it the "dead test"--by inserting a moistened finger in the other's nose. Yes, it was childish and slightly disgusting. The tester, before attempting insertion, would have to say, "I am about to perform the dead test." If the person playing dead wanted to avert the finger, one would have to shout out, "I am alive, beep-beep-beep."  I am afraid we have taught this pastime to Imogen.

James and I were joking about the dead test as we sat waiting for our fair hearing before a New York State Judge at the Office of Temporary and Disability Assistance to prove that James was in fact, alive.  I could have simply performed the dead test and averted all the time and effort wasted.  The hearing took probably less than five minutes after the names of every person in the room were noted, for the record (James, me, our attorney Harvey, the Judge, and the official recorder).  Turning to our attorney, the Judge asked him the reason behind our request for a hearing and Harvey explained that James's application for assistance was denied because they claimed he was dead.  Harvey gestured toward James and said, "There he is, very much alive."  The Judge cracked a large smile and then asked, "Do you know what this means?"  We sat quiet.  He laughed and said, "You will now live for another fifty years!" 

I told the Judge to knock on wood and he quickly rapped his rolled fist against his desk three times.

James also received psychological and neurological exams by government doctors today in support of his application for disability assistance. I was amazed how quickly we were processed through and that the doctors were on-time for their appointments!  I tried to remain silent and let James speak for himself but even the recitation of his medical history requires a certain grasp of the fundamental facts which James does not recall except through my retelling of it to him. It seems a cruel exercise to watch James struggle with his own timeline so I went ahead and jumped in. The doctors were fine with it. 

James's perception of himself is slightly different than the reality which the neurological doctor picked-up on by the expression on my face when James answered some questions.  The doctor turned to me and asked, "And the wife thinks?"  I dislike making James feel poorly about himself.  It is difficult for him to recognize his cognitive deficits without feeling as if it is a reflection of his true selfhood.  I always attempt to contextualize his current abilities and behavior so it is understood that it is not a lack of effort on James's part and that he is recovering from a serious, debilitating illness.  Every doctor I have spoken to when reviewing James's case understands immediately--thirty days in neurological intensive care speaks for itself.

It has been a week of appointments.  We have been taking the subway into Manhattan and downtown Brooklyn which presented a challenge to us both.  We were caught in that downpour thunderstorm earlier this week which flooded the subway system. We were quite late to an important appointment with James's rehabilitation doctor and then, the next day, we were stuck underground in a tunnel for over an hour, completely missing James's appointment with his gastroenterologist. It was frustrating for me but James remained cool and even tempered.  He does not become panicked at all or impatient.  I am grateful that he seems confident while maneuvering through the crowded platforms. 

I have been tapping people on the shoulder in the subway cars and making them stand-up so that James will be able to sit down. I have no shame whatsoever.  Why is it that minority women are always the first to stand to give up their seat without being asked--even mothers with small children?  Shame on those young twenty-something white males with smartphones!

James and I were taking our daily walk to the pool and discussing the future weeks ahead which will involve new schedules and the hiring of a caregiver for James.  He does have some anxiety about my return to work. I mentioned the need for a caregiver to take him to his out-patient appointments which should begin soon.  I have applied to the out-patient program at Rusk Rehabilitation located in lower Manhattan. 

James turned to me and said, with a worried expression on his face, "But they will not love me like you do."

He sure knows how to make my heart feel as if it has dropped into my stomach.

I have to give my thanks to our friend Melanie Kozol who suggested James purchase a pair of HOKA sneakers.  James has been having pain in his right foot which I believe may be a neuroma.  I discussed it with James's rehabilitation doctor and he advised massage and ice.  Since we had a doctor's appointment right next to Melanie's favorite shoe store, we stopped by and purchased the sneakers, inserts for his other shoes, and a pair of sandals for the pool. James is already experiencing improvement!

I am off to make some pork chops for dinner.  James has gained weight!  I think the mashed potatoes are working their magic.  James and I also broke into the carrot muffins made by his student Cheryl.  There are ridiculously good. I cannot imagine how they must have tasted right out of the oven because they are so delicious after being frozen solid and defrosted!

I hope EVERYONE in NYC is enjoying this insanely gorgeous weather. Despite having to spend the majority of the past two days traveling in the subway and inside doctor's offices, we have been outside during the day and it is gorgeous. We smiled today saying, wow, it feels like California!