I woke buried in ice, burning like hell. I told her to wake me up, but she didn’t.
I guess I should have apologised for the comment about her walrus butt, but she deserved it. Fish … fish … fish … is that all an eskimo husband gets after a day’s hunting? No, the seal is for Sunday when the TikMu family comes over. Groan.
It’s not burning any more.
It’s very cold.
Help.
Too late to say sorry, dear?
She rested her head against my shoulder.
“I am so tired.”
I stroked her hair, my heart heavy with sorrow.
“I know, my love. Just try to rest, ok?”
She sighed, then suddenly sat bold upright and looked intently at the print on the wall opposite. A child’s drawing, filled with flowers, people, sun, moon and stars around a blue-green earth. I looked at her, dreading the next moment. She got up, went to the picture, peering at it closely, tracing around the earth with her hand.
“I see it,” she said, “I get it.” Then she turned to me wild-eyed.
“Do you see?”
I wished I did, but I didn’t, and shook my head.
“You never do,” she said, disappointed.
But I did. I saw everything; the gradual descent of the woman I loved most in all the world, into this.
It was her, but at the same time not her.
“Why don’t you come and sit down?”
She looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed as if struggling with some immense internal conflict.
“I can trust you.” It was at the same time a question as a statement. Then she sat down again, resting her head as before.
“I’m so tired.”
My heart wanted to break into a thousand bitter pieces but I didn’t let it. I had to remain in control.
Where was that doctor?
~~~~
“We’ll take good care of her,” the nurse said.
My eyes filled with tears as they walked her away, past the double doors, to the inpatient psychiatric ward. I had visions of white, padded cells, screaming, mutilated madmen, and leering, rapist guards with brutal hands. Tears in my eyes, I turned to the nurse. I was losing control.
“She will be Ok?”
She looked at me, a kindly old woman, and touched my arm.
“She will be fine, you’ll see.”
But I didn’t. How could this be made better? How could the God we both loved and served allow this to happen? An age old question to which I knew all the hollow intellectual answers, but now it was mine, cutting brutally through my heart.
I walked out of the hospital into the chilly night. The stars twinkled brightly overhead around a kindly moon, but I found no comfort. Great sobs escaped from deep inside me, and I looked up at the hand of the Creator, and cursed Him.
~~~~
She was playing Scrabble with some of the other patients. I hadn’t slept a wink and hurried back to the hospital as soon as visiting hours permitted. I approached cautiously, watching, waiting. She looked up, her face pale and wan, her eyes unrecognising. I said hello, but she looked away.
“The medication is quite strong in the beginning”, said the nurse at my side. “Give her time.”
I left, never before feeling so alone, but suppressed my anguish. The kids needed picking up from school.
~~~~
She stood at the top of the stairs, just woken from a nap, and pointed accusingly at my mother who had been tidying up.
“I don’t want you in my house.”
My mother looked at me, her eyes full of hurt, looking for comfort, but I had none to give. I shrugged.
~~~~
The dream now seems over, the nightmare nothing but a painful memory. Thanks to the marvel of medicine I have her back, or least someone like her. I feared her at first, expecting IT to pounce at any minute and wreck our lives like it did before. How I hated that illness that toyed with her mind. But then I learned to love her, to really love her, not the soppy romantic promises of a young fool who vows for better or for worse but knows not what he’s saying.
But I haven’t quite forgiven God, I don’t think, but He’s big enough to take that, and if not, well fuck it – I reckon I’ve been prepared for hell.
Have you ever wondered what people are really like, what they think, what they do when no one is looking? I did, that fateful morning, and it was my undoing.
It was an ordinary Sunday, much like any other. Spring was in the air and I could sense a corporate reluctance from my flock. I had prepared a fairly decent sermon on Grace, intended to instruct and to encourage, but not many were paying attention. Even the normally attentive Harold Withington had dozed off in his usual seat, much to his wife Arma’s annoyance – she was very concerned about appearances. So I was glad to reach the end and announce the closing hymn.
The congregation rose with a collective sigh, and as it was preparing itself during the organ prelude it struck me: they were all fakes!
Mrs Andrews in the front pew, singing with arrogant shrills above the rest, excessively proud of having studied music at London Royal College of Music. Her husband James, whom I knew was having a torrid affair with young Maisie two rows back (obviously not during the sermon). Why even Harold, old saint that he was, had a gambling problem that I’d had to rescue him from repeatedly.
Yet despite this, they paraded like perfect little Christians, with impeccable, fine smiles, secretly looking down on each other, forgetting deliberately the great heights from which we all have fallen, and the immense price paid to get them back there.
So after the hymn I announced that no one was to leave their seats. It was time for detention Bible style. They sat stunned, looking at their old pastor, not quite sure what to expect.
I then started to pray, oh how I started to pray! I prayed that the Lord would deliver my flock from their sins, that they would mend their wicked ways, that they would learn to love each other, that they would care for the poor and so on. I sensed the congregation getting restless, but nobody moved because we were in the presence of the Almighty.
Then I stopped and we waited. We waited for the Spirit of God to move among us. Nobody moved. Nobody talked. At least until suddenly Harold started from his slumber and leapt up shouting, “Don’t Panic Mr Mainwaring, don’t panic!”
The congregation collapsed with laughter at the old Dad’s Army quote, and that was it, the moment had passed: God had spoken, or perhaps not. Who knew?
I hung up my collar and frock in disgust and walked out never to return.
They were All fakes.
This eighty year old couple were celebrating their 60th anniversary and the wife says to her husband, ” Honey lets get stark naked and sit at the dinning table and eat our dinner!”
As they sat at the dinning table the wife says, “Honey I am beginning to get very hot and very aroused!”
The husband says, “That is because you have your breasts in the soup!”
My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels.
She asked, ‘What’s on TV?’
I said, ‘Dust.’
And then the fight started…
******************************************
My wife and I are watching “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” while we were in bed.
I turned to her and said, “Do you want to have sex?”
“No,” she answered.
I then said, “Is that your final answer?”
She didn’t even look at me this time, simply saying, “Yes.”
So I said, “Then I’d like to phone a friend.”
And then the fight started….
******************************************
Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”
My loving wife of 10 years replied, “Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?”
And that’s how the fight started…
******************************************
I rear-ended a car this morning. So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny? Yeah, well I couldn’t believe it…. He was a DWARF!!!
He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, “I AM NOT HAPPY !!!”
So, I looked down at him and said, “Well, then which one are you?”
And then the fight started…..
*****************************************
My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.
She said, ‘I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.’
I bought her some bathroom scales.
And then the fight started…
******************************************
When I got home last night, my wife demanded that I take her someplace expensive… so, I took her to a gas station.
And then the fight started…
******************************************
After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver’s license to verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.
The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’. So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair. She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application. When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.
She said, ‘You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too.’
And then the fight started….
******************************************
My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.
My wife asked, ‘Do you know her?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘She’s my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.’
‘My God!’ says my wife, ‘who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?’
And then the fight started…
******************************************
I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.
“I’ll have the strip steak, medium rare, please.”
He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?””
Nah, she can order for herself.”
And then the fight started…
******************************************
A woman is standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, ‘I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly.
I really need you to pay me a compliment.’
The husband replies, ‘Your eyesight’s damn near perfect.’
And then the fight started…..
I knew I was mad the first time I saw them, a woman and two young girls, moving around my house as if they lived there, calling me Dear and Dad, sometimes cooking for me, but mostly just attempting to hug me or watch television.
After a while I grew accustomed to their presence and even started to miss them when they were not around, allegedly on activities such as shopping and dancing lessons, but all the time I knew – they were imaginary.
I knew this because I never got married, at least, I don’t think I did, but then my memory fails me so often in my middle years, and some days the three ladies in my life are so real that I suspect my mind must be going. So I play along, pretending to be husband and dad, but fully expect one day to be carted off by men in white coats.
The doorbell has just rung, more imaginary people come to taunt me, I guess.
“Ah, good day to you sir, could I interest you in one of our super deluxe series minds, I see yours looks a bit worn?”
She looked at him with confused eyes as he denied the possibility of that which to her had been as real as the air she breathed. He smiled kindly, recognising the signs of madness, but hiding the dread in his heart, saying, “I know you think you saw a giant pink rabbit, but you must have imagined it, because giant pink rabbits do not exist.” A tear formed in her eye, and the trust that had built gradually over years of marriage disappeared in an instant. She knew what she had seen, and that for some reason this man, her husband was trying to deceive her. He saw the tension in her face and reached out his hand to take hers, but she pulled back, piercing his heart. Behind him the Easter parade continued in the distance.
A man walks into Ann Summers to purchase some see-through lingerie for his wife.
He is shown several possibilities that range from £50 to £150 in price, the more see-through, the higher the price. He opts for the sheerest item, pays the £150 and takes the lingerie home.
He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on and model it for him.
Upstairs the wife thinks ‘I have an idea. It’s so see-through that it might as well be nothing.
I won’t put it on – do the modelling naked – return it tomorrow and get a £150 refund and keep the money for myself’.
So she appears naked at the top of the stairs and strikes a pose.
The husband says ‘Stone me, it wasn’t that creased in the shop’.
His funeral is this Thursday.
Susie’s husband had been slipping in and out of a coma for several months. Things looked grim, but she was by his bedside every single day. One day as he slipped back into consciousness, he motioned for her to come close to him. She pulled the chair close to the bed and leaned her ear close to be able to hear him.
“You know” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears, “you have been with me through all the bad times. When I got fired, you stuck right beside me. When my business went under, there you were. When we lost the house, you were there. When I got shot, you stuck with me. When my health started failing, you were still by my side. “And you know what?”
“What, dear?” she asked gently, smiling to herself.
“I think you’re bad luck.”
When I woke up this morning I noticed that I had ten toes. This caused me great consternation because up until now I have only had eight, because that’s normal, and I could not abide being different.
So I dressed carefully, choosing my daintiest outfit, matching shoes and bag, and ventured out, a little self-conscious but confident that I would be able to pull it off. However soon I noticed them looking, those eight toers, the smirks, the raised eye brows, the whispers, and in my distress ran home crying.
My husband was watching the footie but noticed my tears and since he asked me what was wrong I told him. The concern on his face was apparent, and I could hear him thinking in his head about the crisis he had ended up in, and whether this marriage was worth it, but all he said was, “I don’t understand, I can see your toes, despite your cunning efforts, and you have eight toes!”
I looked at him, amazed at his lack of sensitivity, the gall that he had to taunt me so, but then looked down at my feet, and yes, silly me, I had miscounted, and was normal after all – eight cute little toes.
