Here's a photo to stave off my guilt until I post again. This is me on my first entrance in The Tempest (on the lake), which closed last weekend. So fun, I can't even tell you. I haven't had withdrawal from a show in awhile.
I promise I'll get back to recapturing my roadtrip soon ... after the 18th, I'm gonna OWN THIS MOTHER-FUCKING BLOG! Okay, you're right, I already own it.
Real quick, though - I needed to get something off my chest; and here it is.
I have an older neighbor in my building who is in bad shape; his health is obviously failing. This is a situation I've never personally dealt with before, but I'm at a point where I can't just sit by any longer. Here's the deal:
Don is stubborn and sometimes downright ornery. He's a a misanthrope, but he's also an intelligent & fascinating person. I have come to believe that he suffers from bouts of depression. He has no health insurance. He uses a walker, and moves slowly. He's lonely. He lives alone, he has no family, and I don't believe he has many friends (I only know of one other gentleman, besides myself & Shoogie). He claims to not trust any doctors ("they're all quacks"); his father was a doctor and was the only doctor he ever saw. He also lived in Europe for years, and "hates" the US (he came back to care for his dying mother). Sometimes we hear him moaning/crying in his apartment, and twice he has broken down weeping in front of me. "I think I'm dying, Peggy." His father had Alzheimer's Disease, and he thinks he getting it, too.
I find myself trying to avoid Don lately, because I don't know what to say or do to help him. And that just won't do anymore -- I believe in community support & neighbors as circumstantial "family," and I intend to talk to him directly about that fact that I think he needs to see someone, and that Shoogs & I will do anything we can to help him (rides, phone calls, etc.). I think he might listen to me. His fear of being miserable might outweigh his fear of doctors. Maybe not, but I need to try. It's time to put my money where my motherfuckin' mouth is and be a good neighbor. If he responds, I'll feel so relieved and grateful. If he doesn't, I will be speechlessly sad, but at least I'll know that I didn't just stand still and watch him deteriorate.
I didn't quite realize that this was weighing so heavy on me until I began to write it and had to try not to cry. It's really hard to be a human being sometimes. On some (bad) days I don't know how any one of us makes it through any day without crying our eyes out in sadness and frustration at the world. I am lucky that my good days outweigh my bad. Don? Not so lucky anymore, I think.
Be well, my friends -
scrambled by Peggy Gannon at 3:32 PM