Originally published March 22, 2014
For those of you who have read my book, Who I Am Yesterday, you may recall a brief chapter on TVs and movies and how life in the viewing world changes when you are a caregiver. I left off at a point where just about the only thing my husband could watch was romantic comedies or science shows. As with everything else, this too has its progression.
First the movies had to go. He could no longer sit for the 90 minutes or more that it takes to get through one. There was always work he had to do.
Then everyone suddenly became stupid, except for Morgan Freeman and his narration of “Through the Wormhole.” As much as I love science, seeing these cuts 30 times or so became a bit of a drag. I found other things to do while sitting on the couch. Logic problems, reading, sleeping. Then he decided he had seen it all; or, so and so didn’t know what he or she was talking about. For a brief window we watched a few other programs; again. Some I had to put away because, well, they were bad or terrible or out to do something or other. No death or agony allowed.
There was a brief spell where he thought it was interesting to watch some of the course material I have acquired in order to build my knowledge of philosophy and the art of writing. One morning he sat for a full 4 hours watching lecture after lecture. Within a few days I realized that he thought the instructor was speaking directly to him and he wasn’t sure what to think of it all. Back to Morgan.
One afternoon I heard him talking in the living room and, never sure of what to expect, I peeked. He was telling Moran (the image on the title frame of the series) that I was a nice lady and he hoped we might meet one day.
I think you see the progression here. The glass pane between our living room and the world in the box was fast melting away as my husband’s sense of where reality started or ended was devoured by the disease. Somewhere in here he decided to learn how to use the remotes.
Now, once he takes over something it is his. The remotes became his property, kept in “his” room. He actually managed fairly well. Press a button, things aren’t quite working, lady in computer room hops up and changes things. Then Morgan fell from his pedestal and morphed into a bad person. Someone that wanted me. Someone we mustn’t talk to. Morgan was taken out of the DVD deck.
Next he found the cable remote and we had a few lessons on that. Worked for, oh, maybe 5 days. Then the weather channel became the science channel and there was Morgan, again.
One morning this past week I was working away in my office and heard the programs reeling out. Lunch time approached and he wasn’t at my door. I finished some things and then went to the living room to see if he was hungry. He was huddled beside the refrigerator in the kitchen hiding from Mr. Freeman. Whispering to me, “He’s back.”
Well, there was no way I could get him to stop pushing buttons and it was obvious we were at a point where whatever was on that screen would be misinterpreted in some way so I promised to make Mr. Freeman go away and unplugged the TV. Forever.
Perhaps this is not as tragic as the inspiration for this song, but then again, maybe it is.
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