I've been doing some thinking. I'm going to kill my dad. I called my sister.
Razmišljala sam. Ubit ću svog tatu. Nazvala sam svoju sestru.
"Listen, I've been doing some thinking. I'm going to kill Dad. I'm going to take him to Oregon, find some heroin, and give it to him."
"Slušaj, razmišljala sam. Ubit ću tatu. Odvest ću ga u Oregon, nabaviti heroin te mu ga dati."
My dad has frontotemporal lobe dementia, or FTD. It's a confusing disease that hits people in their 50s or 60s. It can completely change someone's personality, making them paranoid and even violent. My dad's been sick for a decade, but three years ago he got really sick, and we had to move him out of his house -- the house that I grew up in, the house that he built with his own hands. My strapping, cool dad with the falsetto singing voice had to move into a facility for round-the-clock care when he was just 65.
Moj otac ima frontotemporalnu demenciju, odnosno FTD. To je bolest koja pogađa ljude u 50-im ili 60-im godinama. Može u potpunosti promijeniti nečiju osobnost, čineći ljude paranoičnima, čak i nasilnima. Moj je otac bolestan jedno desetljeće, ali prije tri godine bolest je uznapredovala te smo ga morali iseliti iz njegove kuće, kuće u kojoj sam ja odrasla, kuće koju je on izgradio vlastitim rukama. Moj kršan, staložen otac falseto pjevačkog glasa, morao se preseliti u ustanovu s cjelodnevnom skrbi kad je imao tek 65 godina.
At first my mom and sisters and I made the mistake of putting him in a regular nursing home. It was really pretty; it had plush carpet and afternoon art classes and a dog named Diane. But then I got a phone call.
Na početku smo majka, sestre i ja napravile pogrešku smjestivši ga u redovan starački dom. Bio je stvarno lijep; imao je tepih od pliša i popodnevne satove umjetnosti te psa zvanog Diane. Ali, onda sam primila poziv.
"Ms. Malone, we've arrested your father."
"Gospođice Malone, uhitili smo Vašeg oca."
"What?"
"Molim?"
"Well, he threatened everybody with cutlery. And then he yanked the curtains off the wall, and then he tried to throw plants out the window. And then, well, he pulled all the old ladies out of their wheelchairs."
"Pa, prijetio je svima u zajednici priborom za jelo. Zatim je skinuo zavjese sa zida, a potom je pokušao baciti biljke kroz prozor. I onda je izvukao sve stare žene iz njihovih invalidskih kolica."
"All the old ladies?"
"Sve stare žene?"
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
"What a cowboy."
"Kakav šarmer."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
After he got kicked out of there, we bounced him between a bunch of state-run facilities before finding a treatment center specifically for people with dementia. At first, he kind of liked it, but over time his health declined, and one day I walked in and found him sitting hunched over on the ground wearing a onesie -- those kinds of outfits that zip in the back. I watched him for about an hour as he yanked at it, trying to find a way out of this thing. And it's supposed to be practical, but to me it looked like a straightjacket. And so I ran out. I left him there. I sat in my truck -- his old truck -- hunched over, this really deep guttural cry coming out of the pit of my belly. I just couldn't believe that my father, the Adonis of my youth, my really dear friend, would think that this kind of life was worth living anymore.
Nakon što je izbačen iz tog doma, premještali smo ga između više državnih ustanova prije no što smo našli lječilišni centar specijaliziran za ljude s demencijom. Na prvu mu se malo svidjelo, ali mu se s vremenom stanje pogoršavalo te sam jedan dan došla i pronašla ga kako sjedi pogrbljeno na podu noseći kombinezon -- ona vrsta odjeće koja se kopča na leđima. Gledala sam ga otprilike sat vremena dok je to povlačio, pokušavajući naći način da to skine. I trebalo bi biti praktično, ali je meni to izgledalo kao luđačka košulja. I zato sam istrčala van. Ostavila sam ga tamo. Sjela sam u kamionet -- njegov stari -- pogrbljena, a taj duboki unutrašnji osjećaj tuge dolazio mi je iz trbuha. Jednostavno nisam mogla vjerovati da moj otac, Adonis moje mladosti, moj vrlo dragi prijatelj, misli da je ovaj način života više vrijedan življenja.
We're programmed to prioritize productivity. So when a person -- an Adonis in this case -- is no longer productive in the way we expect him to be, the way that he expects himself to be, what value does that life have left? That day in the truck, all I could imagine was that my dad was being tortured and his body was the vessel of that torture. I've got to get him out of that body. I've got to get him out of that body; I'm going to kill Dad.
Programirani smo da na prvo mjesto stavljamo produktivnost. Pa kada osoba, Adonis u ovome slučaju, nije više produktivna na način na koji mi očekujemo da treba biti, na način na koji on očekuje od sebe, koja vrijednost tog života onda ostaje? Toga dana u kamionetu, sve što sam mogla zamisliti je da mi otac prolazi kroz mučenje i da je njegovo tijelo izvor tog njegovog mučenja. Moram ga izbaviti iz tog tijela. Moram ga izbaviti iz tog tijela; ubit ću svog tatu.
I call my sister.
Nazovem sestru.
"Beth," she said. "You don't want to live the rest of your life knowing that you killed your father. And you'd be arrested I think, because he can't condone it. And you don't even know how to buy heroin."
"Beth," kaže ona. Ne želiš proživjeti ostatak svog života znajući da si ubila svog oca. I bila bi uhićena, mislim, zato što on to ne može odobriti. I ti uopće ne znaš ni kako kupiti heroin."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
It's true, I don't.
Istina, ne znam.
(Laughter) The truth is we talk about his death a lot. When will it happen? What will it be like? But I wish that we would have talked about death when we were all healthy. What does my best death look like? What does your best death look like? But my family didn't know to do that. And my sister was right. I shouldn't murder Dad with heroin, but I've got to get him out of that body.
(Smijeh) Istina je da dosta pričamo o njegovoj smrti. Kada će se dogoditi? Kakva će biti? Ali htjela bih da smo o smrti pričali kada smo svi bili zdravi. Kako moja najbolja smrt izgleda? Kako vaša najbolja smrt izgleda? Ali moja obitelj nije znala to napraviti. I moja je sestra bila u pravu. Ne bih smjela ubiti tatu heroinom, ali ga moram izbaviti iz tog tijela.
So I went to a psychic. And then a priest, and then a support group, and they all said the same thing: sometimes people hang on when they're worried about loved ones. Just tell them you're safe, and it's OK to go when you're ready.
Pa sam otišla psihijatru. Zatim svećeniku pa u grupu za podršku i svi su rekli istu stvar : nekada ljudi ostaju kada brinu o svojim bližnjima. Samo im recite da ste sigurni te da je u redu da odu čim su spremni.
So I went to see Dad. I found him hunched over on the ground in the onesie. He was staring past me and just kind of looking at the ground. I gave him a ginger ale and just started talking about nothing in particular, but as I was talking, he sneezed from the ginger ale. And the sneeze -- it jerked his body upright, sparking him back to life a little bit. And he just kept drinking and sneezing and sparking, over and over and over again until it stopped. And I heard, "Heheheheheh, heheheheheh ... this is so fabulous. This is so fabulous."
Pa sam otišla vidjeti tatu. Našla sam ga pogrbljenog na podu u kombinezonu. Gledao je pored mene i samo, na neki način, gledao u pod. Dala sam mu sok od đumbira i samo počela pričati ni o čemu važnom, ali dok sam ja pričala on je kihnuo od soka. I to kihanje mu je trznulo tijelo prema gore, pomalo ga vraćajući u život. I samo je nastavio piti i kihati te se vraćati u život, ponovno i ponovno dok nije prestalo. Onda sam čula, "Heheheheheh, heheheheheh ... ovo je tako sjajno. Ovo je tako sjajno."
His eyes were open and he was looking at me, and I said, "Hi, Dad!" and he said, "Hiya, Beth." And I opened my mouth to tell him, right? "Dad, if you want to die, you can die. We're all OK." But as I opened my mouth to tell him, all I could say was, "Dad! I miss you." And then he said, "Well, I miss you, too." And then I just fell over because I'm just a mess.
Oči su mu bile otvorene te je gledao u mene, rekla sam mu, "Bok, tata!" a on je rekao, "Bok, Beth." I otvorila sam usta da mu kažem, "Tata, ako želiš umrijeti, možeš umrijeti. Mi smo svi dobro." Ali kako otvorih usta da mu kažem, mogla sam mu samo reći, "Tata! Nedostaješ mi." A on je odgovorio, "Pa, i ti meni nedostaješ." I onda sam samo pala prema njemu jer sam bila potresena.
So I fell over and I sat there with him because for the first time in a long time he seemed kind of OK. And I memorized his hands, feeling so grateful that his spirit was still attached to his body. And in that moment I realized I'm not responsible for this person. I'm not his doctor, I'm not his mother, I'm certainly not his God, and maybe the best way to help him and me is to resume our roles as father and daughter.
I tako sam pala prema njemu i sjedila s njim, jer po prvi put nakon dugo vremena, činio se donekle dobro. I sjećam se njegovih ruku, osjećajući se toliko zahvalno što je njegov duh još povezan s njegovim tijelom. I u tom sam trenutku shvatila da nisam ja odgovorna za ovu osobu. Nisam njegov liječnik, nisam njegova majka, sigurno nisam njegov Bog te je možda najbolji način da pomognem njemu, a i sebi, da održavam naše uloge oca i kćeri.
And so we just sat there, calm and quiet like we've always done. Nobody was productive. Both of us are still strong.
I tako smo sjedili tamo, smireni i tihi kao što smo uvijek bili. Nitko nije bio produktivan. Oboje smo još uvijek snažni.
"OK, Dad. I'm going to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."
"Dobro, tata. Sada ću ići, ali vidimo se sutra."
"OK," he said. "Hey, this is a pretty nice hacienda."
"Dobro," rekao je. "Hej, ovo je poprilično lijepo imanje."
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)