clearing out

It was like living with a kid who was part of one of those foundations whose purpose it is to grant extravagent wishes of children who are going to die. Only he wasn't a kid, and he didn't die.

I am planning a trip, the first one for me in 12 years. One of the reasons my wings were bound to my sides was my choice of romantic partner. In the time we were together, rather than plan for us to things together, he moved back to his parents home when things got rough and from there he went to Austin Texas, Las Vegas, Seattle, the Niagara Wine Country, Virginia, California and so on.

He averaged two pleasure trips a year, bought a state-of-the-art projection television that turned one entire wall into a high definition TV screen, bought three gaming systems, countless video games, bottles of wine, nights out - you name it.

I struggled to keep it together, work, finish my education, keep a roof over my head and clothes on my back and spent time with him when he asked. We went to some movies and I admit, once or twice we made weekend trips to Montreal where we would spend at least part of the time visiting elderly relatives - his elderly relatives.


Mostly, I stayed home, either with or without him. I did not hold a passport - there was no reason for me to hold a passport, where was I going?


He had kidney disease. I assumed, as I think most people would, without even realizing I was doing it, that because of his suffering, every effort must be made to make him happy. This made me the sex wish - that was my job.


There were times when I would look at his face with it's heavy cheeks and little upturned nose and think - he is starting to look like a pig. And then I would hate myself for being so mean, after all, cortisone makes a person fat in the face, it wasn't his fault but you know, he looked like a pig because he was turning into a pig. He was turning into the most over-indulged, self-pitying, greedy version of himself it was possible to be and I was helping him do it.


I'm gone now - thank goodness - but I wanted to put this out there: treating a person with a chronic illness as though they deserve their every whim satisfied is a stupid thing to do. It kills you and just as surely, it kills them. At least it kills what is most human in them.


He hates me for leaving him - I have to get over hating me for staying as long as I did. When I finally left, he was 18 months into his second transplant, he was spending his days sleeping and eating and his nights playing video games, going out with friends and watching TV. He was still at his parents and he groped me, or tried to, right to the bitter end.


Loving someone is complicated, it's hard to recognize the difference between giving in to greed and need and actually loving. Slowly - agonizingly so, I am learning the difference. Sacrifice alone is not love. Receiving is a part of it too, building happiness - that matters.

I put this here because it bothers me to do so. I put this here because it could happen to you. I put this here because I wince every time I see it - and now, months after writing it. I put this here because I have reread it and reconsidered it and I know, beyond a doubt, that it is absolutely true.