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The CC - Allen, I just want to give you a hug!
Allen, I just want to give you a hug! “It’s good to see you, sister!” I exclaim. Melanie, my sister in law, heroically looks after their family of four growing hungry kids while caring for my brother Allen. “Sister?” Allen queries me. “Yes brother.” I ask, “Do you remember who my sister is?” Allen looks up at her from where he is seated at the table. “I can’t remember her name, but she is my mama. No… that’s not right. My mama is up there.” Pointing upward toward heaven. “But she…” he gestures toward Melanie. “I’m not sure who she is.” With a loving, “Hah, Allen!” Melanie responds, “You’re my husband! My name is Melanie!” He looks up into her eyes. With love crinkling at the corners of his smile, he answers, “Melanie? Oh yeah, Melanie!” “My words are gone,” he sinks to the floor on his knees, “I am at a very low level.” Dr. Allen Bain holds a PhD in Pharmacology. He has led multiple companies; his most recent ran clinical trials on tuberculosis immunotherapies. I have no idea what that means, but only five years ago, Allen would have passionately explained his research to anyone willing to listen. Today Allen warmly engages friends and strangers alike. His previous self-constructed, professional armor has now fallen away, replaced by an embracing warmth and openness. He’ll often begin with a smile and a chuckle: “I have PPA, and I am losing all my words.” PPA, Primary Progressive Aphasia, is a rare neurological condition that causes a steady loss of language. There is no clear answer for where the words go, and no cure to bring them back. Allen can no longer rely on language to define himself or his world. So he seeks inside himself, for what is essential. “I don’t have many words, so I am getting into the soul. We need to get OUT of our brain, get into the soul and meditate.” He pauses, “And quit using words all the time.” In his quest for a world with less talk, he takes daily walks among trees, along beaches, and into quiet churches. He seems to be making simple steps towards some kind of inner wholeness. Allen is often isolated from conversations where groups of people are chatting. He will slip away into a quiet corner, slump forward, and cover his face. It’s as though he’s tired of seeing. His brain struggles now to merge what he sees, with words that he can’t find.
Allen’s caregiver Dillon is also his consistent friend. Allen jokes, “Grayson, Dillon gets PAID to be my friend!” Dillon said something recently that sticks with me: “When I meet with Allen, I try to stay ready for something new, and although he talks through the same topics - it’s with subtle nuances. It makes me consider things differently. Almost every time, my sense of identity changes.” I think I know what Dillon means, because Allen is also drawing out more Grayson-ness in me. He is helping me to hear something that is beneath reason, science, and even words. On my last day at his house, I joined him in meditation for a few minutes. We stood silently, shoulder to shoulder, with closed eyes, no words. I ponder all this, as I write. I wish I had taken up his offer to come with him to walk in the forest. Another day he asked me to sit in a church with him. Both times I told him I was too busy, but really wasn’t. He said that was ok, and went out anyway. Is it possible, dear brother, in losing language, that you are actually gaining a new depth of meaning? See you next week, Grayson Did someone forward you this email? Get weekly reflections straight to your inbox by subscribing to The Compassionate Competitor. Want to share this issue via text, social media, or email? Just copy and paste this link: [ARCHIVE URL GOES HERE] |
Grayson Bain
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