Trego's Mountain Ear

Aging has its own epiphanies.  Some come from having seen similar things happen before, and realizing that “Here it comes again.”  But a greater breakthrough is a situation where you can begin to recognize the quiet courage that has been shown by people you didn’t recognize.

I’d like to write about Tommy Warren.  In his career as a fireman, I’m certain Tommy had his dramatic occasions around flame – a certain level of calm courage is necessary when the most effective way to control a fire is for people to get close to it.  But I never saw Tommy in that obvious, dramatic display of courage. 

Instead, I saw Tommy as a man, no longer young, facing both physical and mental decline as he described his shrinking brain.  People with Alzheimer’s generally live four to eight years after diagnosis.  Tommy, with the diagnosis, left Trego in an attempt to live in the Bakersfield of his youthful successes – but found no place remaining there for an old man.  He returned to Trego, where he had enjoyed his move into retirement, and hadn’t outlived his friends.

In the decline, his world also got smaller.  The need for handrails increased.  My aging Pomeranian looked forward to visiting Tommy – perhaps dogs are more able to appreciate people for what they were than what they are.  Tommy quit driving.  He no longer built pontoons.   Boats and fishing were no longer there as favorite pastimes. 

Instead of being central to the conversation, he held back, searching for the words that no longer came easily – still enjoying companionship, but taking a smaller role.  Again, the little dog recognized his old friend Tommy, and the idea that you can’t find the right word never bothers a dog.

Tommy died after a fall.  I recall him pressing hands on both walls to climb the stairs to my second story – so that he could see if the view matched my plans.  Looking back, I realize his world was shrinking even then.  You don’t notice the courage it takes to unflinchingly face a world that has less space for you every day – but Tommy showed it, enjoying the good parts that were left to him, sometimes standing aside, pained, as he searched for forgotten words that could contribute to a half-understood conversation.  I suspect each of us knows someone who is going through the same loss to Alzheimer’s shrinking brain that Tommy had.  And I suspect each goes through that same unnoticed courage until the loss of abilities overcomes the ability to cope.