{"id":7802,"date":"2024-04-04T21:33:05","date_gmt":"2024-04-05T04:33:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/?p=7802"},"modified":"2024-04-04T21:39:11","modified_gmt":"2024-04-05T04:39:11","slug":"imagine-andrew-856-words-with-the-help-of-john-lennon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/imagine-andrew-856-words-with-the-help-of-john-lennon\/","title":{"rendered":"Imagine Andrew: 856 words, with the help of John Lennon"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Imagine<\/p>\n

All the undone things<\/p>\n

The yearning<\/p>\n

Ambivalence<\/p>\n

The bluntness that now cannot be prevented
\nIt roars<\/p>\n

Andrew. In that mysterious limbo of intensive care, the blood sepsis, the pneumonia. The losses. Of ability to move, to stand, to raise an arm, to flick a mosquito off a leg, to turn down the television, to control the inevitable drooling. To manage his own bowels. Intubated. Breathing with \u2018assistance\u2019. Unable to speak.<\/p>\n

With eyes that see through everything we might think is in the room, Andrew sees beyond.<\/p>\n

Yesterday, <\/em>Peter said
\nHe was entirely present, aware, trying to speak, no doubt about it.<\/em>
\nHe grabbed my hand and rubbed my hand on his face.<\/em><\/p>\n

Timothy said
\nOne of his legs was slowly inching towards the edge of the bed. He couldn\u2019t stop that leg from falling over the edge and he couldn\u2019t move the other one. He couldn\u2019t turn over; he couldn\u2019t tell anyone. Anything.<\/em><\/p>\n

His conscious being arrived in this condition, a full stop. The palsy, the speech aphasia and then, he fell over. Now tethered to hospital cords, needles, bottles and tubes, Andrew can only say \u2018hello\u2019 when he chokes on his own spit.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s tumbled
\nthrough
\na gaping, splintering crack<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Full brain radiation when he was 18<\/p>\n

And now the jig is up, and Andrew has to pay the piper
\nFor the consensus medicine they blasted him with
\nNow, after a lifetime of increasing palsy
\nWeakness, personality disorders
\nHe\u2019s somehow still alive
\nOr, his heart beats, and he\u2019s conscious in his way
\nWhat way?
\nWe have to imagine!
\nHe can hear, he can feel, he can see,
\nOne way
\nInside-Out<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

no heaven<\/h1>\n
He just has
\nto be
\nin his body
\nIn the present moment, shackled
\nto bleeping technology
\nand administering nurses who
\nwon\u2019t help him to the toilet
\nwho instead, will clean the diapers afterwards
\nwhen they can fit him in<\/div>\n
He is our brother, So
\nWe are cell mates, roped together
\nBy his own words, uttered when he could still speak
\nDo everything possible<\/em>
\nHe is reported to have said
\nTo his ex, who holds the keysAnd belief. The belief that his personal suffering has any meaning.That God intended it.
\nThe repeated, the familiar God\u2019s will<\/em>
\nThe assumption
\nThat Andrew is part of a holy plan
\nPray for him<\/em>, as a solution to everything
\nJust wait, it will be revealed
\nin God\u2019s time
\nWhen He closes a door, a window opens
\nIt\u2019s a Mystery
\nHeaven beckons<\/p>\n

We are grasping for meaning like we have never grasped; anything to absolve us of the horror of\u00a0 his what? reality. The depth, the hole of his must-be loneliness.\u00a0 The care center where he is being held, where he lives days of hours<\/em> in the town where he grew up. The hospital where our mother died? He\u2019s in that place now.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

above us<\/h1>\n
\n

Myself, I lived in another country for most of Andrew\u2019s life, so I could only wonder what he did to earn that? One of my sisters knows all the details, but I don\u2019t need to listen to them because no one deserves this. I helped him learn to walk, decades ago, when he was a baby. I too, changed his diaper. Then, his heart was strong; he had thumping room for hope.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Even angry, entitled, even maybe? what? Even Visions of grandeur. Impractical. A musician. A grease monkey, he worked on cars. He wrote and sang songs that leaned on cliches, but it was never enough to elicit approval from any of his brothers.He wasn\u2019t always kind. But stubborn! And that\u2019s not really a fault, is it? It\u2019s a necessary fucking rebellion. Imagine a donkey, the definition. You have to see that rope around his neck, or in his jaw. And someone is pulling on it, against all the forces the \u2018stubborn\u2019 creature can muster. The donkey knows how captive, how slave, how no agency he is\/he has. Except to resist. To demonstrate his will, contrary to those who imprison him. He used to say if you were a Hicks, you had the gene: The anxious-to-act in-an-advisory-capacity gene.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

For each one of us, his six sisters and the six brothers still alive, there is so much distance between our living and his existing. Who can visit him? Between his thousands of hours alone?<\/p>\n

A few have traveled the hundreds of miles. Held his hands, talked to him. Wheeled him into the garden to witness the spring. Connected through a glance, a stare, the squeeze of his hand. Sometimes, a speech, because that\u2019s all you can say when it\u2019s a one-way conversation.<\/p>\n

And by the way, he owns nothing. Anything that was his when he arrived in the \u2018Care Center\u2019 has been sold. Or stolen. Everything we\u2019ve sent him,<\/p>\n

Whatever<\/em><\/p>\n

When this was true, when an email was all we had:<\/p>\n

Andrew is no longer septic, he still has pneumonia, he is still on a ventilator. His numbers have improved but although he opened his eyes and blinks occasionally, he is unresponsive. He does not follow movement with his eyes, he does not respond to touch or sound.<\/em><\/p>\n

Yesterday at the passport office, \u201cWhy do you need this so soon?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

only sky<\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Imagine All the undone things The yearning Ambivalence The bluntness that now cannot be prevented It roars Andrew. In that mysterious limbo of intensive care, the blood sepsis, the pneumonia. The losses. Of ability to move, to stand, to raise an arm, to flick a mosquito off a leg, to turn down the television, to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":7800,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7802","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-pondering-the-brilliance-of-existence","category-non-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7802","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7802"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7802\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7807,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7802\/revisions\/7807"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7800"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7802"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7802"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7802"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}