I only saw Sam a few times that December — twice to work on the last episode of the series, and then once when he stopped by to help me with the move.
Unlike the place Lou and I lived in Orange County, our new condo had zero resident storage, and so I needed Sam to help me find new homes for pieces of furniture that were never going to fit in our new place. I gave away my writer’s desk. It wouldn’t fit in our guest room, and even though I had written all of my novels so far while seated at that very desk, it had to go. Luckily, I found the perfect home for it: I gave it to Henry’s daughters. (What a happy ending for that sweet desk!)
But the day Sam helped me find new places for our over-flow furniture was the first time I ever spent time with him doing something other than working on my series. It felt nice to see him, but it also felt wrong.
Sam was refreshing, and he made me feel happy for the first time in days. But Lou was so weak, and his body had just been through this awful surgery, and here I was…spending time with Sam, making decisions about where to unload parts of my past life with Lou. It was incredibly selfish, and I knew in my heart that it was wrong. But I justified everything I did back then.
I needed help, and Sam offered.
Eventually, Sam had to take off, and so I gave up on trying to find new places for our things. There was only so much I could do on my own, and, I knew Lou wouldn’t be happy with me if I made a bunch of big decision without his blessing. I knew this for a fact because I nearly unloaded the sleigh bed on a super popular Salt Lake City classified website Sam told me about without fully clearing my plans with Lou.
I listed the bed for sale for $500, and within two minutes, I had two buyers texting me! But when I called Lou to tell him the good news, he came completely unglued. That bed cost $15,000 new, and Lou was absolutely livid and insulted by my attempt to sell it. So I quickly took the ad down, and called the two potential sleigh bed owners to tell them the bad news.
So… I ended up shoving the enormous bed frame, along with everything that didn’t work or fit in the new place, into the guest room. That room ended up being the most depressing space in all of Sugarhouse. And the worst part was, I had to go into that room every single day to get dressed. It was cold, gloomy, and nothing I tried could keep it from looking like an ugly storage unit that was only missing the roll-top door. And, even though I was happy to have access to all of my clothing again, everything in my closet fit me like it belonged to someone else.
While Lou was in the hospital after his surgery, I happened to stand on a scale in the hallway just outside of his room. Even with all of my winter hippie clothing layers and my shoes on, I had lost 26 pounds by that time. Knowing the exact number actually flipped me out a little bit. I didn’t realize I had lost that much. My love of feeling empty had slipped into a much bigger issue than I ever realized. But it all became even more obvious when I tried to wear the clothing from my former life. Suddenly, even I realized I was ebbing away.
But I did my best to make my wardrobe work, and to make our condo a home. That place was so ugly and cold, and we didn’t even have a sofa or seating of any kind in the living room. Henry’s wife graciously lent us a recliner so Lou would have a place to rest comfortably. But I didn’t have a seating option, so I created one for myself every night when Lou and I would watch TV.
I’d push two of our bamboo dining chairs face to face so I could create a kind of a “crib” for myself. I stuffed a bunch of pillows into the seats, and then covered the crib with a huge comforter to keep the chairs from pushing apart when I got in. It was kind of clever — but also really pathetic.
Lou didn’t seem to notice how horrible our place was because I think for him, everything about his life felt horrible.
His recovery was very slow — but he was also pushing it pretty hard. Only one day after being released from the hospital, Lou was back in his office, hoping that the filings were being completed, and trying to stay positive for Henry and Jim. We were both hoping that at some point soon, we’d find some version of our lives that felt normal. But I couldn’t even imagine what normal would look like for us in Utah.
Lou was closed off and angry all the time — because he was often in a great deal of pain. A week after his surgery, Lou started having horrible chest pains while we were at church. They were really serious pains, and he was growing short of breath. So we rushed him to the University of Utah ER again, and Lou was immediately taken in for treatment. After three hours of exhaustive heart tests, it was determined that Lou had pneumonia, brought on by the anesthesia. So they loaded Lou up with Rambo antibiotics.
A day later, just as Lou’s breathing was on the way back to normal, and his chest pains had subsided, Lou suddenly started complaining about excruciating pain in his right foot and ankle. It was so painful that even the bed sheet was too much pressure. Turns out, Rambo antibiotics — coupled with all of the other drugs Lou had been on in the past few weeks — can cause the onset of gout.
It felt like I was married to Job…
Lou was falling apart, and everything was ugly and cold, and unbearably depressing. To make things worse, right around this time, Lou started treating me terribly. I think I mostly understood why — he was in constant and chronic pain, he was still wearing dude dipes, and, he was struggling to find any sense of himself.
His job was stuck in a never-ending stall out, and we were still living off of the good will of Henry and Jim. It was demoralizing and embarrassing to be so needy. So I could almost always find a teaspoon’s worth of grace to offer him every time he’d blow up at me; but my supply of good will was running out. There is only so much misery you can empathize with after the years of struggle we’d already faced.
But things took a very complicated turn on me when Lou started saying things to me like, “Baby. You should leave me. I’m never going to be able to be good enough for you again. I can’t promise you anything anymore, and I don’t want to keep you from having a good life. I wouldn’t be angry if you left me. I’d understand.”
I felt furious with Lou when he’d say things like this to me! In fact, it made bile rise up in me when he’d make those kinds of statements. It was not his place to decide what was good for me, or to suggest that I give up on him or my marriage. It was defeatist and wrong to say that kind of thing to me, and it made me feel totally unhinged with emotions.
I remember he’d mostly say stuff like that to me late in the day — when his body was totally spent, and the pain was getting to be too much. After he’d drop those ideas on me, I remember how I’d fester with anger while I was sitting in my horrible homemade crib, and he was rocking in pain in the borrowed recliner. I was so conflicted about how everything in my life was making me feel.
