No Escape - The Invisible Man

The very last breath of my life was noticed by only one soul. One slow, knowing exhale and I finally let myself go as I heard the final call “hoo hooo hoo?” The night owl that had been calling to me every night was the only connection I had left with the outside world, the only communication I had day after day, and night after night. I had become invisible. The invisible man. People moved around me, moved me around, talked around me, and worst of all? They talk about me as though I was not even there! I screamed in my head that I was alive! That I could hear them, but no one heard, not one single soul, until the old barn owl started to visit, and then I wasn’t alone anymore. I was so scared to die alone, so scared that no one at all would notice when I took my last breath, that no one would see when my soul left my body, that no one would care when it happened. The owl would notice, he would care, and he had to be enough because he was all that I had.

When I was a kid, I thought that being invisible would be the most amazing superpower in the whole world. You could hear what people said when they thought you were not around, and you could slip in and out with no one ever noticing. Then I became invisible. It took is time and it was not amazing. It was slow, cruel, and soul crushing.

It started slow, a numb leg, tingling toes, not being able to lift my foot as high as I wanted. I ignored it as long as could until people started noticing that I was tripping going up a step or had to lift my leg to get it into the car. My wife noticed first, and we agreed I would go to my family doctor. The appointments never stopped, neurologists, cat scans, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, and others that I can not even remember their titles. It was 8 months of waiting, hoping, and praying and at the end of it all they did not come up with anything conclusive. MS was ruled out, but Parkinson’s was on the table still, ALS (the one I feared the most) was still being tossed around but no one seemed to agree on a definitive diagnosis.

The stress was making things worse. My hands and arms started to have minds of their own and thought nothing of dumping hot coffee on my lap or flinging objects across the room. My left leg had given up its will to live and began just dragging behind me. I was scared; actually, scared doesn’t quite cover what I was feeling but I honestly cannot come up with a word that describes what I was feeling – terrified, mortified, humiliated, and filled with shame. How was it possible to lose control of my body? I raged against the doctors, I raged against God, and I raged against myself! I loathed myself and I felt like I was slowly losing my mind. I was trying to get things in order for when I could no longer take care of myself. I was planning my death and it could not come fast enough.

I was 38 years old. I did not have children yet, I had a successful business, I was traveling to exotic places, I had a stunningly beautiful wife, all of the toys, all of the friends and I was not ready to let it all go! I tried every holistic, homeopathic, natural remedy that was suggested. I begged God not to lock me up in my mind. I screamed and yelled and raged! I cried and howled and sunk into deep despair when no one was looking. When people were around, I acted as though I was fine, I laughed and joked and planned for a future I knew I wouldn’t have, I did not want to give them any more reasons to pity me

One year after that first appointment the medical professionals still had no answers. They did not know what to do for me. My right leg had started to fail now too, and I had started using crutches. My social circle had started growing smaller and my wife more and more distant. I was not easy to be around. I had been the fun guy, the comedian, the entertainment and now I was just the topic of whispered conversations filled with pity and sadness. I was still working, still making my plans, my mind was sharp, and I worked out every single day to keep my muscles strong. I was not giving up on me, but my “friends” were. I am not sure what was going through their minds, but I think that seeing someone as strong, smart, successful, and fun loving as me suddenly become “unwell” made them realize that they were not invincible either. If it could happen to me, it could happen to them.

By year two I was using a walker full time, I was only 40 years old. I was still working and other than a few hand eye coordination problems I was doing remarkably well. We were still traveling (although a walker on sand is nearly impossible) and partying and celebrating life! I could do almost everything I could do before. My family, my wife, and a few of our true friends stuck by me and supported me unconditionally. I felt blessed and hopeful, and things stayed pretty much the same for the next four years. The doctors still had no answers.

Shortly before my 45 birthday I woke up and could not open my left eye, the muscles on the left side of my face and neck had just up and quit on me. My head bobbed strangely to the side, my tongue did not want to stay in my mouth causing me to drool and no longer speak clearly. My wife called 911, we both believed that I had a stroke, but it wasn’t, it was just more symptoms of the “unknown”.

My wife never looked at me the same way after that day. I became someone she pitied, someone she had to take care of. She was only 41 years old. I remember that day so vividly, the day I realized that she hated me. She was trying to feed me, and my tongue kept pushing it away, drooling all over her, she looked disgusted, and I knew then that I should let her go, but I didn’t, I didn’t want to be alone. I was selfish and I was cruel to her. Unspeakably cruel. I pushed her away with unforgivable words spit out in anger, with my spite at knowing she only stayed because it would look bad if she left. Some days I loved her and some days I blamed her and some days I hated her but every day I made damn sure she was not going to miss me, that she would be relieved when I was locked away in my mind.

I realized that day, that my biggest fear was dying alone. My parents were old, I had no siblings and no kids and the women I had loved for the last 20 years hated me. I was going to die alone. Alone locked in my mind, my body completely betraying me. I tried to kill myself that day and two times after that, but my body would not even cooperate for that, I could not even control how I was going to die.

It should have been my right to die. I was not going to get better; I was just going to continue to get worse and worse and I was going to die alone after being a burden to all of those who once loved me. I begged my wife, my dad, my best friend, and my doctor to help me kill myself but none of them could bring themselves to do it. I hated them for their weakness. I was trapped in my own body and there was no escape.

I was 67 years old when my soul finally left my body. I had spent 20 years alone in nursing home. My parents had passed away and no one even thought to take me to their funerals. My “friends” never came. My wife came a dozen or so times every year and always on my birthday and Christmas. She remarried and had two kids and a beautiful life. She regretted not knowing how to support me, she felt deep shame for not knowing how to love me like that. She talked about her life and told me funny stories about old friends, and she cried in my lap about how hard it had been, how much she missed me and loved me. I lived for those days, those few hours she spent loving our memories, loving me. She passed away 3 months before me, and I knew that it was my time to let go of this life. There was nothing left here for me anymore. The night she passed away was the night the barn owl started visiting me and I knew in my heart that it was her spirit. I knew I no longer had to fear dying alone, she would love me and guide me to our next life. I welcomed the peace I knew was coming and with my last breath I smiled. My spirit stood and walked towards the light, towards my love, and towards my next adventure.