Farewells to Bells

The Litebrite's now black and white
Cause they took apart a picture that wasn't right
Pitch burning on a shining sheet
The only maker that you'd want to meet
A dying man in a living room
Whose shadow paces the floor
He’ll take you out any open door

This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend

With 2004 being a leap year, I had one last day in February to suffer from Bell’s Palsy. Because on the morning of March 1, I woke up and whistled. Not a Bobby McFerrin whistle, mind you, but a whistle nonetheless. I was so excited to be able to whistle again that I continued to whistle loudly and obnoxiously until the dogs howled, the children cried and the wife began to yell. I wake up at 5 every morning, so you can’t blame them, but for me, this was the symbolic recovery from my disease. I expected the whole world to be happy for me, but it’s not as if I were dying. There would be no parade, no Dateline interview, no honorary degree. There would only be the pain of spousal abuse if I didn’t stop my whistling.

Besides, this was no miraculous recovery. By any measure, my Bell’s Palsy was perhaps the mildest case ever. In fact, I think even referring to it as 'palsy' is an insult to those who have truly suffered from this...whatever it is. A disease? I don't know. Mine was more like Bell's Episode, or a 24-hour Bell, or Bell's Cramps. Or maybe Bell's Itch. Something that would imply it only lasted a week or so.

Still, I’m hoping for a little fanfare. These kinds of life experiences should always teach you a little something about yourself, and in this case the lesson I learned is that I’m a fool for attention. The part of me that remembers reading The Endless Steppe tells me that I should exhibit a little self-respect and not make such a big deal out of my obstacle.

Instead, I shred any last remaining, er, shred of dignity and toss it onto the compost pile of self-indulgence that is my behavior.

I give my patch to Tristan, who can now fulfill his own pirate fantasies.

When my wife asks me if I can now clean out the garage, I affectedly sigh, ‘After what I’ve been through?’

With all the sensitivity of a foot-fallen-fast-asleep I pour myself a tall glass of Jack Daniels and write the following ridiculously offensive recap of my ordeal:

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I am no longer just a mere statistic, but the human face of Bell's Palsy. Though scarred, I am a survivor. But even at the worst of times, I never considered myself to be dying from Bell's.

We, all of us, both the victims and the victims' families, are 'living with Bell's.'

We must never forget those who have been taken from us by Bell's (though admittedly, I don't think anyone has ever actually perished from the disease).

We must never forget a social stigma that pushed victims of Bell's to the fringes of society. No! We did not deserve Bell's! No! It was not a punishment meted out by the heavens for sinful living! No! We are not less than human (though, we sometimes appear, you know, kind of creepy)!

We will not stand for the failure of our political systems to aid us. Our votes count just as much as the non-Bell's living in society, even if they are covered in the occasional dribble of saliva.

We will never forget! We will not falter! We are family! We must stand united, or divided! We will fall! We must reach towards the heavens and pee in the sea! WE MUST NOT PEE IN THE SEA!

Today
I am amazed at how many comments and emails I received from people who had Bell’s Palsy or know someone who has had it. I hope that in making fun of myself I haven’t written anything too terribly offensive. I realize, for example, that some people who come down with the disease never recover, and having had it for only a small period, I can understand the tremendous challenge this must cause. The fact that this is a disease that takes away a person’s ability to smile should speak volumes.

I suffer absolutely no effects from Bell’s Palsy, and had I not written about it, might forget I ever had it. Although from time to time that little spot below my right ear will start to ache, and I’ll wonder if my Bell’s Palsy is returning, as it is sometimes known to do.

If you ever see me whistle and roll my eyes in relief, you’ll understand.

Fin