She is, without question, the love of my life. In plain and simple terms, I do not know what I would do without her. I would roll up into a ball of quivering humanity in a corner and perish, once and for all.

Yet, I treat her badly, or at least, so she tells me, forthright and in the most outspoken language possible: I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU ARE THE MOST DESPICABLE PERSON I KNOW! I HATE YOU! she often says.

True, I am difficult to get along with. Since coming down with this awful illness — this PLS, this Primary Lateral Sclerosis, a cousin to ALS, or Lou Gehrigs Disease — it is true that despite its painless progression, I have become a thoughtless and inconsistent tyrant of sorts,in that I am a person who has no patience whatsoever.

Is it the result of not loving my wife — or loving her less? I do not think so — that is to say, I do not THINK so. In fact, when I stop to THINK at all, I think I am more patient than I am — normally.

And that is when she is more loving towards me! When I stop to THINK . . . .

Speaking of THINKING, that is the area most affected by PLS. The basic illness stems from a brain malfunction; wherein the upper neurons, for some undiscoved reason, decide all of a sudden to fall asleep and become dormant.

Perhaps that is why I cannot THINK as I should, why I cannot THINK straight, and treat her as I should.
What makes her hate me so?

It may be because I unintentionally goad het — seemingly effortlessly, as I so easily lose patience and say aloud, GODDAMN IT! And to myself add, WHY CAN’T I HAVE EVERYTHING ALL MY OWN WAY WHEN MY WAY IS THE RIGHT WAY!!!!

Not that I should have everything all my own way, especially when my way is rarely the right way. I cannot recall the last time my way was right.
I will say this, however: her hatefulness is short-lived. If she never asked me WHY? or WHAT? life would be perfect.

I do not know how to answer her WHYs? and WHATs?, because to respond intelligently I would have to to be able to think, and as long as I am plagued with PLS, I cannot THINK.

Therein lies the rub: my brain malfunctions when I try to THINK!

Like I say, her hatefulness is short-lived. When I ask her to pull my pants up after I have used the bathroom, or if I tell her I am unable to clean myself, she is right there — right away to assist me.

At bedtime and when I arise in late morning and call out: Gobby! Help! she is always there, as quickly as possible to fix the bed for sleeping, or to bathe me when necessary and to dress me for the day. (Gobby is the name our baby grandson calls her because he cannot say Grandma.)

All in all, I am very lucky to have Christine to love, and to love me. At 82 — on July 17th I will be 83 — and as I said earlier, I do not know what I would do without her. I can certainly take a few I HATE YOU’s when the alternative is so distasteful.

No, we may no longer have much desire to participate in fortuitous wedlock activity, but we do have a love for each other that manifests itself through devotion and a definite need to sustain us until the bitter end.
Why do I suspect her of having a devotion and need as strong as mine? . . .

Well, for one thing, I am still here!


Robert A. Mills
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