Misdirection

And this I have learned - some people are born to destroy each other while others are meant to stand aside and watch. It's a lesson in sickness and perversion and detachment.

My friend Henry, now residing in a third nursing home, in part due to an incident of abuse which resulted in his wife's arrest, sits and almost desperately tells me how it's his fault. It's been a year since his stroke and he's made no visible physical progress - his left side is dead weight, he can't walk or care for himself, his muscles have atrophied and become useless. His mind, however, is fully engaged with misdirected bitterness and blame and a twisted, enraged sense of self pity. The mood swings are violent and he lashes out with uncontrolled, unmedicated fury at the closest target - his wife .She responds with equal brutality, with equal verbal abuse and finally flings him out of his wheelchair. Another in a long series of 911 calls is made and when the firefighters arrive, they in turn call the police. She is arrested and led away in hysterics and handcuffs, he is left alone.

A week later, I hear all this over a sad, lonely lunch in the nursing home dining room. For three solid and painful hours I listen as Henry recites a litany of his faults and launches a full out defense of his wife. She just isn't cut out to be a caregiver, he tells me, she works 80 hours a week, supports him and pays the bills, does everything for him and in return he provokes her, blames her for the stroke, smashes anything he can reach with his cane, complains and demands more than she can possibly give. The police arrested the wrong person, he tells me, she is an angel with a heart of gold, and terribly, dreadfully misunderstood. He has made her what she is, he tells me and his eyes fill with tears - no one ever sees what he puts her through before she breaks down and explodes. She's the real victim, he tries to persuade me, Everybody has it wrong.

Even it that's so, I say, she doesn't have the right to hurt you.

Nothing hurt but my pride, he says with a hopeful smile.

This time, I tell him and he laughs and pats my hand.

Some people are locked together in sickness and denial, born to destroy each other yet unable or unwilling to be apart. The rest of us watch and worry and wait to pick up the pieces. It's a mystery, part illusion, part misdirection,

but no magic.