The Blue Orchid Years

Chapter 4: On Distress Tolerance and Subjective Worthlessness

February 17th 2664

All I have relished

Changed in a flash

Taken by the game of life

Waves of despondency overtake me

I am left with a shadow of what I used to revere

I've been glaring at my reflection and it glares back

Mocking me for all the nights I spent howling and weeping

I'm stuck finding reasons when there are none

But maybe it's pointless trying to find one

And although I'm forced to live with a shadow

Her heavenly smile reminds me of the warmth I used to cherish

She is no longer the lady I gave my heart to

But I'm still the same man she trusted with hers

She is no longer the lady I gave my heart to

But I'm not about to ask her to return it to me

It's hers and will always be hers

- N.A.S

Dear listener, did I make you worry last night? I'm okay now. Well, as okay as someone in my shoes can be. After the phone call with Kenta, I felt a sudden urge to write a poem, so I did. It wasn't my best work, but at least it was honest and was more productive than bawling my eyes out. After writing it down, I started thinking that maybe I've been too focused on counting the days I have left with Moira and forget to just focus on enjoying the time we do have—the more I sulk like this, the shorter a year or two will be. People say time flies and I don't think I want to let it fly without me being present in the moment. Even if she can't remember who I am, I still know who she is and who she used to be. I have no idea if it makes a difference for her whether I am alive or not if she can't even remember me, but that's me questioning unanswerable things. People say that happiness is in the eyes of the beholder and I guess I need to redefine my own.

So this morning I got up before Moira did. It took everything in me to trudge my way to the kitchen and cook something that was not just microwaved frozen meal, but I was proud of what I made. I steamed some tofu together with shredded Chinese cabbage and carrot, then dumped the vegetables into beaten egg yolk to make rolled omelets. Yeah, Moira has always hated vegetables, but on the other hand she has always liked my cooking. The trick to make her eat vegetable is to chop them very finely into the tiniest morsels and hide them in something else—noodles, quesadilla, macaroni, pasta, dumplings, or tamagoyaki. Another trick is to put spices on the vegetables—she loves spices. I smiled as I put sriracha mayonnaise on the side for her.

"It's breakfast time. Hey, it's okay. It's Nardho. We live together." I said softly as I woke my wife up. She blinked in confusion and stared at me as if it was the first time she ever saw me.

"Nardho? Where have I heard that name before?" her eyes narrowed and then her lips moved upward slightly. "Oh, you are Neesa's friend who came yesterday! But why are you still here?"

"To keep you company and to cook something good when you're hungry", I tried to stay calm.

"Neesa asks you to do that for me? That's nice of her. How long are you gonna stay?"

"As long as I am welcomed." I decided to play along. Moira's doctors once informed me that it might upset dementia patients when their family members tried to remind them of what they have forgotten, but if we validate what they could remember, no matter how inaccurate and skewed, they would not be terrified of us or lash in terror. It is all about making sure the patients feel comfortable enough to let us in so that we can take care of them without them being alarmed. So I guess right now Moira simply thought I was a friend of Neesa's who somehow brought her breakfast in bed. Well, that's better than being a complete stranger or an intruder.