Pent up Anger, Glass, and My Blood

Actually, an overall funny story with a dramatic title

For any who have read my most recent post, “A Eulogy for My Bride,” you may have wondered why someone like Emily would have gotten angry at me - of all people. Well, here are two related stories for clarification.

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DIGRESSION ALERT!

Before I share what I believe to be a very funny story and the sad story behind it, I’d like to get something off my chest. What if “God” has a sense of humor and was laughing right alongside us four months ago.

When I refer to God, I’m not talking about some billion-year-old codger with long flowing grey hair. I can’t pin down my perception of “God,” but I can say that there’s some seriously divine mystery at play in this universe. Just look at the extent of the love which has been showered upon me during these challenging times. If some force or being was able to create all that we see, hear, taste, smell or feel, surely, that entity must periodically laugh upon witnessing us silly humans trying to make sense of it all.

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The background story is as follows -

My wife Emily, even though immune compromised from her chemotherapy, made keeping up her strength, a priority. She would go to our nearby, very small gym with her chemo cap hiding her bald head and a mask giving her some sense of protection. The half-dozen people present when we arrived four months ago, were all regulars who knew that Emily was dying and vulnerable because she openly shared her lack of “progress” with anyone who inquired over many months.

One sixtyish year-old man, George, was there on his treadmill. This very intelligent, well-read guy ignored most if not all of the gym rules and would almost always switch the TV station to the same news channel - the same one that lost a $740 million lawsuit for spreading misinformation a few years ago.

Well, on this particular winter day, he had an almost non-stop productive cough. A half hour into his workout as George went toward the bathroom I heard the manager comment - “it sounds like you're coming down with something”. His response lit my fuse - “Oh no, I’ve been sick as a dog for a week now.” And then, only a moment later it became obvious why he left the treadmill as we all heard his retching through the thin restroom walls.

As I tried to process such extreme levels of arrogance and apathy he exited and walked toward the front door with me in his path. I threw up my hand when he was ten feet away - STAY RIGHT THERE! I can’t fathom that I wasn’t beet red by that point because I was about to explode on him (and he’s an attorney). I demeaned and denigrated him with every nasty word my spinning head could latch on to. A very loose translation would be - You’re pathetic, and you better be a more considerate person when you’re around my very sick wife.

He mumbled “I’m sorry,” and I walked away to apologize to Emily for losing it. She took me aside and with her characteristic sweet calmness said something to the effect - “Mark, everything you said might have been true, but I think George may have been too distracted by your anger to take in the gist of what you had to say. On our 5-mile drive home, she was her usual self, but I was still seething.

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So, here’s the funny story that actually got my unflappable wife angry -since the gym incident didn’t.

A few days after that eventful day at the gym, I was sitting upright in our recliner recounting the incident to my daughter and suggesting how pathetic some seemingly “normal” people can be. Emily was also there but silent as I described the whole saga.

When I got to the point where I was explaining that Mom agreed with my concerns, but not my verbal assault, I conceded that George probably wasn’t listening to one word I said. He was merely trying to figure out how to protect himself. When I got to the word protect, without a thought I did a high-speed karate block with the back of my left fist going completely through the glass globe on the floor lamp to my left side.

There were pieces of glass everywhere and then Emily’s predictable, long-drawn-out M aa rrrrrrrr kk ! To make matters worse, a couple superficial facial cuts and my fist started to drip. Vera and I immediately jumped into action starting to pick up glass chunks which had ricocheted off the nearby wall and discovered that they were even behind the chair, in the box of toys. I ran toward the kitchen to get a rag for the carpet but had to clean up the trail of drops between the kitchen and the chair.

While Vera and I were on our knees picking up glass and blotting the blood out of the carpet, we caught each other’s eyes and started laughing and that became uncontrollable as we took in the bizarre scene that I’d painted. It was the best laugh that either of us had had in many months. And I would even entertain the possibility that that laugh was sent to us at this particular time by a god who has a sense of humor.