I don't know that its sentimental as much as it is sappily full of the truth

I watch the Colbert Report too much

Joe and Flo have been married 66 years, and were both living together in a home for the elderly. They still kissed each other, Joe still gave Flo flowers and Flo still reminded him of the simple things that he had begun forgetting.

I heard the story two mornings ago as I got ready for work, and I found it meandering around in my head for the rest of the day. Flo’s (88) health was deteriorating, she had cancer several times and needed a walker to get around, and Joe (92) was displaying signs of dementia and Alzheimer’s. He would forget where he was, suddenly become irritated and lash out at anyone near him and he had hit Flo. There doesn’t seem to be a belief that Joe wanted to do anything wrong. He loved his wife, and seemed uneasy around his granddaughter, who recorded the experience, for fear that he may do something to her as well. There is a moment where his granddaughter comes into Joe’s room and wants to talk to him, and he refuses; getting angry, yelling.

Eventually, Flo moves to California without Joe. She fears that his episodes will get worse – they do. Of course, like any modern story, Joe is moved out to California to be near his wife. When they see each other Joe has a flower and a snappy pick up line.

Why am I mentioning such a story on this blog? Well, there have been a lot of studies that have recently suggested a link between diabetes and Alzheimer’s disease, and I’m thinking about much of a pain in the ass I can be right now and how much worse I’ll be if I get it. Will my wife leave for California, but still be supportive of me, even when I don’t have sense enough to wipe the drool from my mouth? I’ve always been the type of person who needs people to keep going. Needs a face, a voice or letters on a screen to prove…something, I don’t know what. Perhaps that I’m loved, but I somehow doubt that. Or that people remind me of whom I am. Nearly every day I talk to people online or in person and if fuels me. Keeps me remembering who I should be instead of falling inline with everyone else I see everyday. Keeps my mind on spiritual matters; on the far more important issues of calling myself to account each day or letting Baha’u’llah’s love shine through me at all times.

Maybe it’s just fear that caused me to write this. Fear that I may turn into a husk of my former self. That I will have no idea who I or anyone else is when I get old, and somehow have no idea where to turn to remind me. At that point will I even know that I’m a Bahá’í? That my life is what it is because of the Bahá’í Faith? Or will it all turn into a fuzzy reminder of something that I once remembered, frustrating me.

I told my friend Lindsey that there’s around a 70% chance that I’ll develop Alzheimer’s, or so I understand. Her response, “but a 30% [chance] you won’t”. Hopefully by then I’ll feel refueled by a face, a voice or letters on a screen, or simply by picking up the Writings and smiling.

P.S. - There was an interesting article in the New York Times about the diabetes epidemic in East Harlem that I feel inclined to share.