If You Don’t Like Crowds

Stay Home.

Well I was home and thankful for that, but now what?  I could walk from room to room on the first floor, and pet the dog, and watch TV.  Two out of three were just like being in the hospital.  But I couldn’t get up the stairs, and now that became my main goal.  But I had to be careful in that regard, very careful.  I could get dizzy very easily and no one was sure yet how I would handle climbing stairs, and to be safe so I wouldn’t try it when no one was around, I was told not to climb.  This is why sitting in my office in front of my computer was out of bounds.  After a few days though someone, not me, remembered to bring the portable downstairs and we set it up on the kitchen table.  Unfortunately, I had forgotten all of my passwords.  So for a while I was definitely limited in this venue, until I could remember where they were all written down which meant someone had to root around upstairs for ‘the list’.  I could read the newspapers online but as mentioned I really couldn’t get into my accounts.  That was okay, I think, because if I could get into them I didn’t really want to as I had no work that needed to be done.  And, like when I was in the hospital I just don't remember much else, especially of the first few days I was home.  It might be because I was mostly sleeping then. 

I do remember some of an event held on my first weekend home.  There was going to be an 80^th birthday party for my wife’s father and it had been planned to be in a restaurant in Philadelphia which is about an hour and a half from our home in New Jersey.  I don’t know exactly when this was planned and so cannot say for sure if the planning spanned time before my accident or was something others had devised when I was not around.  Whatever the planning session encompassed the working version included everyone spending the night in hotel rooms in the city, and then spend more time the next day in downtown Philly.  I think there was a concert scheduled in there somewhere along the line too.  I didn’t know about this, or if I did I had forgotten but, when the topic was raised anew, apparently I let it be known that I wouldn’t be going. 

I just wasn’t comfortable traveling long distances, or eating out in a public place, or heaven forbid, spending the night in a hotel, and definitely didn’t want to be walking about on busy streets.  I am sure I must have looked like a complete egomaniacal bum, but these were the psychological problems I faced.  Of course driving for an hour and a half was out of the question because I just didn’t want to be in a car driving on a highway, especially at night when my vision was at that time dramatically impaired.  Is that psychological, or practical?  After all, I was the victim of the road, and whether I was driving or not, I didn’t want to be in a car.  Now, eating in a restaurant meant showing off my deformities in public, is this psychological or just old fashioned pride?  If one looked like a pile of dung why show off?  And, staying anywhere else but home was just out of the question for me.  The silent struggle to get home from the hospital was still ingrained in my head every waking moment so they would have to pull me forcefully out of my house now.  And then being in a city, any city, was contrary to my desire to hide in a cabin deep in the woods.  You can call that anything you want, but for me it was called necessity. 

I made it clear I wouldn’t go, but begged the wife to, and take the children with her, after all it was her father, their grandfather, and while I wanted to be safe and at home, I really didn’t want to deny anyone else their freedom, especially after they had done so much for me.  Why couldn’t she accept this particular difference of opinion, after all if they went to the big city and spent the night someone would have to stay home with the dog, right?  My wife listened patiently to my concerns and then one upped me and had the whole family descend on our house instead of congregating in Philly. 

 This is when I found out that what I feared was true, I definitely did not like to be in crowded situations (this hasn't abated much yet).  So as the family factions marched in the front door I spent a great deal of time huddled up in the corner of the couch, not being able to move around with so many people about (too dangerous for me) and not being able to hide in the bedroom as all of the extended family continued to move about as they saw fit, in every room of the house. 

The next thing which bothered me was the conversation with more than one person at at time, or lack thereof.  At first, along with the incoming crowd a multitude of queries about my health were launched from several angles at once and…, nothing else.  But eventually, as I gave short terse responses, or responded slowly as I tried to sort through the incoming barrage, and no one had anything else to ask me most moved off to discuss a hundred and one other things with whoever would be standing near enough to be out of speaking range with me.  But one woman (Ethel) who, along with her husband, was part of the oldest duet in the room did sit down next to me and talked, just talked.  Speaking with her quietly in the proverbial corner, one on one, while the action ebbed and flowed but ignored us, was all I needed and I was thankful.  Later that night, when I was sitting in a corner of the table in the kitchen eating dinner with the younger crowd, Jackie came and spent some quality time with me too and I thank both women extensively for their special efforts.  Oh, I did almost forget.  One of the younger set also spent some time talking with me, that was Coby, and so now I often thank him, in my heart, for taking the time to speak with an old man who was very slow on the delivery and full of misplaced words, but not ideas.

As the evening wore on, and dinner was finished, I became more relaxed, but also very tired.  I knew that soon I would have to go to bed, the medicine was directing me to do so, and now I just needed everyone to leave.  So as I made it known, and prepared to leave the room, hoping I could close the bedroom door and lie down, I was told that everyone except me, my wife and our dog would be…, driving down to Philly.  I was happy that everyone was leaving but now, without my knowing it had been decided that my children were leaving too.  Multitasking has not been easy for me since getting out of the hospital, and as on the one hand I had felt happy to have been part of the celebration without having to travel, the idea that people had decided what my children would do without asking me, their father, hit home.  But I couldn’t respond.  My energy level had shrunk down, my resistance fell apart too, and for me while deep down I could only wish for my family to be close by, I had no strength in me to put up a fight that would stop them from leaving.  All I could do was shake hands and say good bye.  Why had no one asked me what I thought?  Welcome to the new world.  This would not be the last time the father would sit on the sideline and just watch.

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