Magnificent Desolation_ The Long Journey Home From the Moon - Buzz Aldrin [56]
The doctors at Wilford Hall used a combination of psychiatric therapy, relaxation techniques, and strong medication to get me back on an even keel. It seemed more and more obvious to all of us that my life prior to Apollo 11 had been highly structured and goal-oriented, from growing up in a military family to attending West Point, to becoming a fighter pilot, to earning my doctorate at MIT, to joining the astronaut program. I’d always had recognizable goals, and for the most part I had attained them. Although I had not grown up with the dream of going to the moon, when that became a goal of mine (and of America’s) in the mid-sixties, I did it. Afterwards no other objective compared. Now, I was struggling to find a reason big enough to get me going again.
I contemplated leaving the Air Force and writing my autobiography. Other people who were not nearly as well known to the public as I was had written their stories, and there was still a fascination with our trip to the moon. Surely somebody would want to publish that story. Maybe writing the book might prove to be cathartic, freeing me from the past. More than anything, I wanted to begin life all over again— even if that meant leaving NASA, the Air Force, and my marriage.
ONE MORNING I walked into Dr. Sparks’s office and told him that I had come to some conclusions. I wanted to start afresh; I planned to leave the Air Force, leave Joan, and marry Marianne. Dr. Sparks listened thoughtfully and then responded calmly, “I think you are making a mistake.”
The doctor’s advice notwithstanding, I called Marianne that night and told her of my decisions. I expected Marianne to be thrilled; instead, she was noncommittal; then, after a while, she admitted that she was close to marrying the man who had been pursuing her. Once again I practically begged her to wait, and she reluctantly agreed.
As Thanksgiving approached, I felt a strong desire to go home. Dr. Sparks was quick to remind me that just days ago, I’d been determined to divorce Joan. Nevertheless, he granted a ten-day pass, after which I was to return to the hospital for a complete analysis of how things had gone. “In the meantime,” Dr. Sparks stressed, “if anything goes wrong, I want you to return immediately.” I informed him that I planned to spend some time with my family and contact my father. I conveniently didn’t mention Marianne.
My family welcomed me home enthusiastically, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Jan and Andy especially didn’t seem to know how to take me. Was it safe to be loud around me? Was it okay to play the radio or turn on the television? Did I want to be around them? They didn’t know, and I did little to reassure them. Our oldest son, Mike, seemed more aloof than usual, and Joan later told me that when she could bear the burden no longer by herself, she had acquiesced and informed Mike of the real reason for my hospitalization. Mike had stood by her valiantly during the weeks I had been gone, and he seemed somewhat reluctant to give up his position as Joan’s protector now that I was home.
Joan herself knew little of my progress. Her only contact with me had been by telephone, and my reports to her had vacillated with my moods. She tried desperately to maintain a sense of normalcy as we celebrated a traditional Thanksgiving, complete with a robust turkey dinner. Afterwards, I suggested to Joan that she and I go to Acapulco during the week after Christmas, without the kids, just the two of us. Joan no doubt thought that I intended to enjoy some time together to begin rebuilding our marriage. In fact, I planned to ask her for a divorce.
Feeling good about my renewal, I even went in to my office and began weeding through the piles of work and mail that had accumulated over the last month. I was encouraged that I did not