The Pilot's Wife

I'm sweating through my blouse, and if sit for one minute longer, I'll be sweating through my pants.  Possibly my boots. The elderly gentleman sitting next to me on the couch is cucumber chilly in a cardigan and turtleneck.

What happens to old people?  How can they not feel heat?  It's dangerous.  Not so much for them, but for people who still have blood left to steam.  And by people, I mean me.

The elderly gentleman is William, and the non-profit organization I work for is making a home delivery of some medical equipment he needs.  I'm just along for the ride, and thought the old fellow might like some company while my colleagues work to set things up.

William is a former military pilot, and at 93, still very handsome.  His face is relatively unlined, bright blue eyes clear, and white hair retirement commercial approved.  I cross my arms to prevent the sweat from dripping from my boobs to my waistband.

"Are you too cold?  It's a bit chilly out today.  I can turn up the thermostat if you like?"

NO. OH SWEET JESUS. NO. 

I assure William I'm very comfortable, but thank you. Considering we're strangers in his home, William is very hospitable.  He apologies for a mess that's non-existent.  He's only been in this retirement residence apartment for a month, and his move here was hasty.   

He points out an errant box on the coffee table, and cords all over his computer table.  He shows me how he Skypes with his grandkids on his massive computer screen.  William is legally blind, and the text on screen is massive.

I compliment him on the art in his home.  Beautiful big paintings are all over the walls.  Stunning landscapes and swirling colours - they appear similar.  I ask him if they're all by the same artist, and he laughs. 

"Why yes!  I did them!"

William and his wife travelled the world, and to remember their favorite moments together, William would paint a painting within hours of getting back home. 

I ask him about where various paintings are from, forgetting he's blind and can't see where I'm pointing.  I'm smooth like that.

The white church looking building?  San Juan Capistrano, where we saw the birds.  The red rocks?  Yuma, Arizona.  Extraordinary place.  The blue water?  The Aegean Sea, off of Crete.  That was quite the day - I remember Janie diving into the water.  I remember every minute of that day. 

Does Janie remember?  His wife is part of the reason we're paying this visit.  William's on his own, for the first time in a long time.  They've been married 70 years.  Even if I met somebody and married him tomorrow, I won't live long enough to be married for 70 years. 70 years.  A lifetime.

When I ask how Janie is doing, he makes a see-saw motion with his hand. 

"You know how it is. Up and down.  Good and bad days."

Actually, I don't know.  I don't know what it's like to lose most of the love of my entire life to a massive stroke. 

From what I heard, Janie can't speak, and is paralyzed on one side.  She's 96 years old, and until a month ago she loved to cook, bake, and tend to her garden.  She took care of her husband, acting as his eyes when the former pilot and artist lost his sight.  Married for 70 years, he now lives in the apartment living section of the retirement home.  She lives in the long-term care section, separated by long, progressively more hospital smelling hallways.

William points at a small scooter parked by his kitchennette.  It's a new purchase, and he's delighted with how fast it goes.  People sure do get out of the way!

He uses it to visit Janie every day, and was just there this morning.  She was agitated.  She speaks, but nobody understands what she's saying, and her thoughts are all jumbled up like a salad.  And she has the runs. 

William and I sit in agreeable silence.  The runs do have a negative affect no matter who you are. I stare at the painting with the blue water, and imagine myself in it.

"This is a nice apartment - very well appointed," I tell him.

Who says that?  Somebody who'd dying of heat exhaustion says that.  The apartment isn't bad, but it's small.  William and Janie left a big, rambling family house behind.  The kids were still sorting through the details.  When Janie had her stroke, everything happened very quickly.

It's not so bad, William agreed.  "I thought I'd be carried out of my house feet first, but life doesn't always work out the way you plan it to."

You got that right.

In fact, he and Janie had reserved an apartment in another place. 

"It was nicer than this - the one on the lake?"

I know the place.  That retirement home is like a Sandals resort for the elderly set.  I'd move in there tomorrow if they let me, but will never have the money.

"We had to give up the spot after Janie...you know.  They don't have long-term care there, so we're here instead."

"How's the food here?" I ask.

"I wouldn't brag about it."

There are grocery bags on the kitchen counter, and I ask William if he does his own shopping.  His eyes light up.

William has an outdoor scooter, that's even faster than the indoor one.  He went all the way to Wal-Mart with it, and the damned thing even has cup-holders!

I agree that cup-holders are a necessity for living, and am just as delighted as William at the idea of him running people off the sidewalks in a giant scooter.  The man did fly fighter jets after all.

"Where are you taking the outdoor scooter next?"

William said he was going to pick up Janie, and take her down the coast.

I whip my head around, fearful that William's cheese had suddenly slid off his cracker, and he laughs at my reaction. He got me pretty good, and I laugh too.

But what if I did though, William said. 

"What if I picked up Janie some night, put her on the back of my scooter and we got out of here.  Just went for a ride.  Went for another trip. Would you tell?"

"Well William.  You've assured me you have cup-holders, so I wouldn't say a thing about it.  I wouldn't stop you at all."

Dammit.  Now my eyes are wet too. 

William said he knew I wouldn't say anything, that I'm a very fine girl.

And so is Janie.  And if you ever hear of an old man busting out his wife from a care home and taking off for places unknown on a super fast scooter with cup holders, don't try to stop them either. 

Instead, let's all hope they make it to where they're going.