I’ve discovered that I have a pet peeve…well, let me be honest, I have several. Not wringing out the sponge and leaving it all cold and wet in the sink. Not cleaning the counters after you cook. And anything left sticky…I especially hate sticky. My mom left sticky little fingerprints everywhere. I guess because she was always eating Cheetos and Milk Duds. Her favorites. And who tells a 91-year-old that those aren’t healthy choices? Not me.

Anyway, I’ve noticed a new one…I hate when people refer to someone who has died as “losing” them or saying they “passed away.” I think we’re afraid to use the word “dead” because it seems harsher and more final. Death is pretty final. My daughter died January 2nd and I did not lose her. She’s not misplaced. I’m not suddenly going to find her somewhere unexpected…although I really wish I were.

I misplaced my son once, briefly. Really, he misplaced himself. Having more children than you have hands is not a great idea…one can always get away…and it was always him. He was three and we (myself and three young children) were at a clothing store. He slipped himself into a circular rack of clothes and disappeared. I was frantic for the two minutes before I found him…his sisters may have found him. They had a better handle on him than I did. Anyway, that’s losing someone. My daughter is not lost. She’s dead. Fuck.

Passing away sounds like she was a wisp of vapor that evaporated. Or a mirage all along and now the mirage has passed away. She didn’t dissolve or fade away like fog in the early mornings here in Florida. She died. She was very sick and she died. And that’s final. As much as I hate it, she isn’t coming back…I do believe in reincarnation, or at least that the energy that makes us who we are, our spirit or soul, continues to exist in some form so…someday who knows. I have to use the words died, dead, death because it’s the only way I can make what happened real. The only way I can bring myself to understand that she isn’t here anymore. She’s dead. That’s an awful word to use in reference to your child. It’s so fucking horrible. It rips my heart out…but it’s true.

I do have a point here besides the death of my daughter. I’ve written about chronic pain and specifically about problems with my elbow replacement. Over the last 10 years, it’s been revised several times because of loosening. Then it was removed once because of an infection, and again when I broke my arm and dislocated my elbow, which destroyed it. That was less than three years ago. For the past year I have known it was coming loose again. I can feel it. I’ve told the doctor repeatedly and he assured me that it was fine because the x-rays looked good. Even though I had a lot of swelling, grinding, and pain in my elbow.

A few weeks ago, the swelling in my arm ballooned. My left upper arm and elbow are twice as big as my right arm. It’s alarmingly swollen…enough that when I went to talk to my PCP, she was shocked. She raised concern that it might be infected…blah, blah, blah. The x-rays finally show what I have been feeling and the doctor sees it. The hardware is loose so, tomorrow I am having my elbow replacement removed. Because of this long history nothing is going in my arm to replace it. My arm will no longer have an elbow. So, my arm will no longer function. I am going to lose the use of my left arm. There’s no point trying again because they have all failed. In total I think it’s been 6. That’s enough. The doctor and I are both done.

In preparation I have been trying to do everything with only my right arm. Know what I’ve discovered? That’s fucking hard. Seems like everything takes two hands…although sometimes I can use my head as a substitute. Reminds me of when I found out I had celiac disease and discovered gluten was in everything. It’s not so much anymore, but in 1998 it was the staple du jour. I never realized how much I used my left arm…until now. I’ve started to lose the function in my left arm already…hence the use of my head…like when I’m trying to put towels on the shelf in the linen closet.

My wife, who always has the helpful suggestions, told me that I’ll be able to turn in a circle fast and slap people…because my arm is just going to hang loose by my side. I guess I’ll have to start slapping people. Seriously, this is all overwhelming. I’ve been finding adaptive devices to make having one arm easier and to allow me to do things independently…like drive, cut vegetables, dress myself, wash my right arm. Things I take for granted…or I did.

So, I’ve been thinking about saying that I’m “losing” my arm. My arm won’t be lost. It won’t be misplaced. It will still be attached to my body. My arm will be dead. My arm will die tomorrow. I feel like I’m awaiting an execution…for my arm. Although my arm is dying as I write this. The only way I get it to work now is by using my shoulder…and my head.

Rituals are important. They mark important events in our lives. We have funerals to mark the death of someone who mattered to us. I’ve thought about having a funeral for my arm…like they did for Buddy’s arm in Fried Green Tomatoes. His arm was cut off by a train, so they buried it with a headstone and a eulogy. After that the expectation was for him to get on with life and not feel sorry for himself. I don’t feel sorry for myself. Of course, I still have my arm. Is a funeral appropriate for a limb that’s still attached but has no function…I don’t know. Do I want a funeral for my arm…not sure. Will I refer to my arm as dead…don’t know that either.

I am learning to speak the truth to myself. To be honest in my observations and to call something what it is…not dance around it to avoid reality. I have also been thinking a lot about my belief, that I end my blogs with, that in the end all that matters is how we love people. Right now, I might be the person who needs my love the most. I think I’ll forget about the funeral for my arm for now and focus on some self love…lots of it. With a good dose of patience and gentleness. In the end it does matter how we love people, including ourselves. It will make a difference in how we make it to the end…whatever that may be.