The Memory Artists - Jeffrey Moore [87]
“Yes, by all means, art therapy sounds like a good idea. A very good idea—”
“Our next concern is you,” said Samira. “Because your system’s run down. Caregiver collapse. Depression, exhaustion, maybe even guilt— it’s common according to Dr. Rhéaume. So JJ and I have drawn up a Top Ten list for you.”
“Most of these are Sam’s,” said JJ. “Try to guess which two are mine.” He handed Noel a piece of lined yellow paper.
Noel’s 10 Commandments
1.Get enough sleep, and take time out to relax, so you can focus better on things that are important (like finding a memory cure!).
2.Eat three square meals to give you energy for things that are important (like finding a memory cure!).
3.Allow others to help, because caring for your mom is too big a job to be done by you alone.
4.Take one day at a time rather than worry about what may or may not happen in the future.
5.Structure your day because a consistent schedule makes life easier for both you and your mom.
6.Remember that your mom is not being difficult on purpose; her behaviour and emotions are being distorted by AD.
7.Have a sense of humour because laughter helps to put things in a more positive perspective.
8.Focus on and enjoy what your mother can still do rather than lament over what is lost.
9.Try to depend more on OTHER RELATIONSHIPS for love and support.
10.Draw upon the Higher Power, which is available to you.
“Take a guess—which ones are mine?” JJ repeated.
“Well … let’s see. Seven and ten?”
JJ responded with a woofy laugh. “Bingo! You know what the Higher Power is?”
“God?”
“A belief in mystery, magic and miracles. The three ms.”
Noel’s brain filled up with acres of sunny blue sky. “Thanks for this, both of you.” Tears were rising, but he coaxed them back to their source. His arms ached to hug them both, but remained lifeless at his side. He reread number 9, drawn into the vortex of capitals, desperately hoping it was a hint, a kick under the table, a coded Valentine.
Chapter 14
Noel & Samira (II)
It was not a hint after all, Noel concluded, after scarcely seeing Samira for the next seven days. She passed him in the hall with only a syllable or two, walked by him in Dr. Vorta’s office with barely a nod. Not surprising, he thought. What a fool I was to expect anything more! It’s always the same. In any case, it was all a big distraction. I’ve got better ways of occupying my brain.
To prove it to himself, Noel spent more and more time underground. He ignored pleas from his mother and JJ to come up for air, just as he ignored his Ten Commandments, which he decided were unobeyable. He drove himself harder and harder. He would sleep in his chair, rarely using his bed, for the mornings seemed years away from the night. Time was the enemy, the poison.37 And though he felt lonely, and out of joint, he also felt he was making progress. He was sure of it. And he was losing weight—an added benefit.
He was also starting to lose his mind, he strongly suspected one night. For inspiration and clues, he had begun combing through a book of mediaeval Arabian chemistry, as well as four versions of The Thousand and One Nights—including Galland’s translation, a charred edition borrowed from JJ. After a day of frenzied speed-reading, thinking himself into a stupor, he snapped the books shut. “That’s it,” he whispered to himself. “I’ve lost it …”
He was sitting in his father’s swivel chair, staring catatonically at a dirty-white wall that matched the interior of his head, when a percussive sound jostled him. A rhythm he had heard before. In a dream? Rat-a-tattat, rat-a-tat-tat. Softly. Then a muffled, disembodied voice. “Noel?”
Déjà vu, literally, in his mind. “Yes?” he said.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes … of course. The door’s unlocked.”
“Can you open it?”
With his heart galloping, Noel sprang from his chair and yanked open