Patches lay in her bed at the Chateau La Reine Blanche in Paris. The two cushions under her legs keeping her feet elevated for the night, as she couldn’t move them much herself; it was best that they be elevated for comfort. The big fat grey cushion was called the sheep. “Baaah-baaah” she would say when it was placed under her knees at night. Then it was Mr. Weiner dog’s turn, the slimmer oblong beige cushion placed under her feet. “Woof, woof” she would say playfully. Whoever it was putting her to bed would laugh with her. A bit of fun was always welcome. If she didn’t know you very well and you were new to putting her to bed, she would always ask, “Did you put Mr. Weiner under my feet?”
It was early morning and she had awoken too early. The ‘Life Assistant’ wouldn’t be arriving until another two hours. And that was if he or she was on time! They rarely were…. With her right hand she moved it with a jerky motion to her side seeking a piece of candy for dry throat. She made contact with a small water bottle, a clock radio (that seemed to have a mind of its’ own), her throat lozenges, nose spray, tissues for her nose, a mini CD player, a straw and a Y shaped dental flosser for easy teeth cleaning. You could use it with only one hand. “There you are” she said to herself, putting a liquid filled throat lozenger in between her cracked lips.
Like anyone else in her position, early mornings’ and late nights’ could be tough as the brain seemed to be like a washing machine, turning on its’ rinse cycle of old. Meaning that when you had no structure, no real plan of things to do for the day, the ‘machine’ seemed to turn on itself, playing & replaying images and lifes’ worries. Almost always unpleasant things. Why that was, well she would have to wait for some brain specialist to tell her one day. Maybe then they could make her brain remember only the good memories and only focus on happy details of her life. In any case, she’d never been a ‘look on the positive side of life’ fool either. Not that she didn’t have positive aspects to her personality, she did, but she wasn’t going to try to force her brain to be a oogling, saliva dripping, teeth baring idiot telling herself and everyone else to ‘BE POSITIVE’. Such nonesense!
Her brain on automatic pilot took her on a ride to past lovers. First the american ones: Bob, Tom, Frank, John and Barry (the short list) and then when in France: Henri, Jacques, Olivier, Pascal, François etc, etc (another short list) and again the same old question: why didn’t she get married?
She was pretty, blond, had gorgeous blue eyes and great skin, always had a great figure too (though nowadays she had put on too much weight). Today she couldn’t walk anymore but back then she was capable of doing everything. She had had a top management job as an engineer in an international company and had travelled the world over. She had even slept with a number of her assistants and collegues and “no” that was not how she had moved up in the company. She had just enjoyed sex alot and didn’t have any preconceived ideas about getting it or think about being married first. “That was alot of hogwarsh” she would say in her Kansas drawl. But to have lived at least with someone, to have shared the day to day things with another person, she felt that she’d missed out somehow. She hadn’t had kids either, but that wasn’t a problem for her. She did miss having a man, however. A big strong one, with a deep voice and a especially a hairy chest. She could have had a woman, but wasn’ t into the virgina business, so to speak, though she had had a few women in her bed on occasion after throwing back too many Jack Daniels with coke. But she hardly remembered the details the next morning.
Nowadays in her late fifties AND in a wheel chair, it was getting more and more difficult to procure good sex partners. She still had affairs, but they were brief. Her physical therapist Thomas usually was good for at least for some heavy mutual masturbating twice a month (he loved her gracious creamy white breasts) and then there was her Asian Doctor Fong who, though he had a very small penis for european standards, got an A for effort. He just loved moving her around in all kinds of different positions. It was like an Olympic event with Dr. Fong. Those smaller guys really did try so much harder! She supposed it was the Bonapart Syndrome, though apparently he had been quite well hung. She did so appreciate a large member and someone who put themselves totally into the task. If Dr. Fong had been single with a large one, she might have married him given the occasion. A brief vision of what her kids would have looked like half Asian, half white, popped up. And then she had a flash, seeing herself at an elementary school during a PTA meeting fighting for her kid’s racial rights or against Homophobia while sitting in her wheel chair…
Ding Dong! Went the bell from the courtyard downstairs. She fumbled for a key chain around her neck, found it and pushed the button on her beeper to open the security door. A few minutes later, the time for whoever it was to take the elevator and pass through the long corrider to her door, another bell rang. She pushed the beeper once more letting in the visitor. “It must be Rose,” she thought. It was Monday after all. But when the door opened, the person did not present themselves as they were supposed to do. All of the Life Assistants were trained to do that before entering the home of whoever they were taking are of that day, they were to announce their first names. She waited. And she really needed to go pee too.
It seemd like an eternity and being that she wore heavy duty diapers, decided to pee anyway while laying there. She couldn’t wait any longer and felt a great deal of relief. Whoever it was would have to change her. No big deal.
“Patches? Are you in there?” Called out a deep male voice.
She wondered, “Who in the hell was that?” She cleared out her voice and replied, “Yes, I’m in here” though thanks to the MS, it came out like “Arggh, uuum eeerr”.
A face appeared from her bedroom door. A tall dark haired handsome man wth a beard, fortyish.
“Oh my gawd” she thought she said though it came out “aw muhhh garrrd”! It was François, her long lost lover from when she could still walk 6 years ago! She cleared her throat and frantically tried to whisk away the clouds in her sleeping head and that battle at the PTA meeting with her gay half Asian son.
He smiled his Gregory Peck smile and she too lit up with joy on her face.
“Patches, cherie,” gads was he sexy…
And then, “Ooops”, she thought, “I have to pee again” and she let it go. Those super duper Pampers would do the trick as always…