For the last couple of months he’s been very attentive. Bringing me food – even cooking it! – or coffee, ‘whatever I needed’. Like, every couple of hours stopping in and asking if I wanted coffee or tea. It was very helpful. I’d been given a new prescription from the doctor and one of them had a very nasty side effect. Headache, nausea and vomiting. It took me a couple of weeks to figure out where the illness was coming from, at first thinking it was a simple migraine. But during that time, nothing – and I do mean nothing – stayed down. I lost 10 pounds. His checking in on me every few hours was comforting.
And then one time he brought me a cup of tea. He just materialized next to me, I didn’t see or hear him coming. He said: There! I got all the way here and you didn’t hear me. I said: why would you want to? He said: So I could walk silently like you do.
It took me a few days and the shoe dropped. He’d been so attentive because he was practicing.
And I made an error. Maybe not my fault, but still an error. One of the times he materialized next to me, I jumped. The slight smile on his face told me I’d screwed up. My counter to this was to place some metal clothes hangers on the hook behind my door. Whenever the door opened, they jangled. They lasted a few days then he moved them. Rearranging the things on my door so they didn’t jangle. I moved them back and so far they’re still there.[A]
One of the things that’s confusing me is, he’s been making my coffee/tea for almost twenty years. But suddenly he doesn’t seem to remember how I like it. For that matter everything he’s cooked for me isn’t made to my taste. That sounds so petty of me, and I quickly realized I couldn’t complain about it. It made me sound abusive almost, petty. Examples are so little sugar or too much milk in my tea, it was undrinkable. Or a lovely steak cooked to leather and seared to charcoal. A soup with so much garlic it made me gag. So even though he was bringing me food/drink, most of the time I couldn’t eat it. And this is after the side effects had finally worn off.
Briefly, I debated with myself on if he was poisoning me. He has the knowledge to do so. And he’s already proven he’s willing to go that extra mile to help me along to the great unknown. The food was so ghastly it wouldn’t surprise me at all if there was an added ingredient that I couldn’t taste behind all the ‘mistakes’ of cooking. I’m still 50/50 on this but falling on the side of ‘no’. It seems more aggressive and harder to look a copper in the eye and lie about.
I’m feeling a little better now. I can make my own tea or coffee again by myself. It usually triggers a non-breathing spike, but I can do it. It’s sometimes hard to fall asleep at night because I’m thinking of all the foods I want, I’m starving. Maybe tonight I can make something light. A sandwich or soup. Although I got to say I’m sick to death of soup. Soup and yogurt are the only two things that have a chance to stay down.
My stress level has spiked.
[A] edit: today the hangers got moved again. It only took him 3 days.
Silent Scream 