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Picture it & Write/ Ermiliablog

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For several nights Derek dreamed. They were vivid and colorful, yet when he woke his bed was wet from the sweat that dripped from his body.

He began to fear closing his eyes at night. The visions of his nightmare remaining clear in his mind.

He began his journey of tearing apart the tiny pieces and dissecting each thought. In the end he hoped that he could place the puzzle together and see clearly what his dream meant.

Some said because the color of green was so alive, that maybe he wished for money. Others asked if he was afraid of someone or maybe he had instincts about something bad going down at work.

Still others thought maybe he was wrestling something from his past.

Derek didn’t know and after days of this continuing he decided to look into a special doctor. He called a shrink out of the yellow pages and set an appointment. He was nervous as he pulled into the parking lot.

He pulled out a cigarette and puffed on it, arguing with himself on whether he should go into this adventure. Did he really want to know? Was it really that bad? After all, it only happened at night-time. Weren’t his days just fine?

He took his last puff and put it out. He sat there a few minutes longer looking at his reflection in the rear view mirror. Trying to see the answers staring back at him but all he got were blank shells.

Ah what the hell, let’s get this over with. Better to know I guess than wearing myself down trying to figure it out on my own.

He walked through the double doors and was greeted by a blonde bombshell. Good morning sir. Do you have an appointment?

Derek stared at her and his lips wouldn’t move. Between his restless nights and hours of trying to figure out what was wrong with him, and then looking at this gorgeous babe, for a minute, he couldn’t speak.

Um, yes, yes I do have an appointment. The names Miller, Derek Miller.

She smiled at him and checked her appointment book. Yes, here you are. You are right on time Mr. Miller. Please have a seat and I will let the doctor know you are here.

Derek walked over to one of the empty seats. He couldn’t hardly keep his eyes to himself. They must put pretty girls in that box to keep our minds off our own problems.

She glanced at him as if she had read his mind and smiled. He smiled and then looked a way, embarrassed that he had been caught looking at her.

Soon his name was called and he walked into a small warm office. The draperies were of heavy, green tapestries, just like the green in his dreams. The furniture smelled of leather and when he was asked to have a seat he sunk in.

Sort of reminded him of his dream; getting sucked into a position he was not comfortable with.

The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Meyers. He started the conversation off with asking Derek general questions.

Where did you grow up? What do you do for a living? What kind of relationship did you have with your parents? Now, tell me about this recurring dream you are having.

Derek coughed and cleared his throat. He was nervous so he tucked his hands under his legs to keep his fingers from shaking. He began his story from the beginning and didn’t stop until the end.

Dr. Meyers looked up from the notes he was writing and asked, Derek, may I call you Derek instead of Mr. Miller? Derek nodded and the doctor continued.

How do you feel about yourself? Have you ever struggled with who you are? How do you think you fit in with life in general?

Derek sat there and considered what to say. He hung his head down towards his lap as if he was praying and then looked back up at the doctor.

I, well I guess I am alright. I think I fit in. Mom and Dad always taught me that what I did in school was never enough. They always said I could do better. If I got less than an A, they pounded me emotionally to do better. They accused me of goofing off. I guess I carry this into my work today also. I want the boss to know I am giving it my all. I want to be appreciated for all I do.

Dr. Meyers shook his head as Derek talked. Yes, Derek, we all want to please our parents when we are young. But maybe their ideas of good enough were different from your ideas. Maybe you already were doing your best. And although we would all love it, many bosses do not say enough of how much we are appreciated. Sometimes the only time we hear from them is if we screw up. You know what I mean Derek?

Derek chuckled to himself, thinking back to one particular time when he did get called into the big man’s office for not having a report exactly the way he wanted. He guessed this doc may have a point.

I think I understand your dreams Mr. Miller. The dream scared you right? It seems bigger than you see yourself? I think this dream has a title, a main theme, a one-headed horse, on a one-way path. It is called Insecurity.

Derek looked up at him and they locked eyes for a moment as Derek let what the doctor said sink in a little bit.

You mean you think I am afraid of myself?

No, you are not afraid of yourself. You have done very well in fact. You have a good education. From what you say you have nice living quarters. You drive a new car. No, you are insecure about not being good enough in your eyes. The reason you don’t hear anything from your boss is you are doing fine. You and your parents seem to have a good relationship all things considered. You look healthy. You just need to change your train of thought. Bring it up a notch or two. Bring yourself in to this day and age. Let the child go and accept the great person you are as an adult.

Derek took a long deep breath. He felt like a big boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew in his gut this doc was right on target. He stood up when the doctor said time’s up.

Unless you continue to have these dreams I think you are one of the lucky ones. I doubt if we need to schedule any more appointments for you. But I am here if you feel the need.

Derek shook the doctor’s hand and walked out of the building. He stopped out in the sunlight and inhaled deeply the fresh air. He looked at the people walking and the kids riding their bikes. He smiled and went home.

When it was time to go to bed, his fear crept back but not as bad. He was anxious this time to go to sleep to see if he would have his dream. When he awoke the next morning, sun came pouring in his windows. It was a beautiful day and the mean, green dream had vanished.

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Chapter 20

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Henry raced over and jumped on the bed to the other side. There lay Kurt on top of Jane and he was smacking her in the face. He had her blouse unbuttoned, and flesh was poking out from her bra.

“You son of a bitch. Get the hell off of her right now.” Henry grabbed a hold of the back of Kurt’s shirt and yanked him as hard as he could. Kurt reached around and swung at Henry missing his jaw.

“This little girl has to be taught a lesson. I don’t approve much of liars, and she is going to learn to never do it again.”

“I said get off of her, right now.” Henry grabbed his shirt again and this time knocked Kurt backwards. He fell off of Jane and ended up smacking his head against the wall. Henry picked him up by his shirt and belt and threw him up against the wall. Kurt’s head slammed into the wall pushing a piece of the wall inwards.

He reached for him again and picked him up and threw him on to the bed. He began to punch him in the gut and hit him in the face. When he ran out of energy he knocked him onto the floor with his feet.

Kurt could barely stand. Henry left him lay there long enough to check on Jane. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” He helped straighten out her clothing and gave her assistance to sit on the bed. He checked her out as good as he could. Seeing she was physically stable, he went back to where Kurt lay and helped him up by the seat of his pants.

He shoved him to the front door and then kicked him out. “Don’t you ever step foot on this property again or I will call the cops on you.” Kurt rubbed his jaw and tasting blood turned back around and said,” I ain’t done with her yet. She better watch her back.”

“And I will kill you if I see you around her ever again. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and give you another round of my fist.”

Henry watched as the man left in his car and then remembered his Mom. He ran into the kitchen where she was sitting at the table. Smoking a cigarette she asked,” Who in the hell was that? He came in here so fast, he knocked me over because I evidently was in his way. I turned around to tell him to get out, but then down I went. He is lucky he didn’t break any of my bones.” She rubbed her cheek and felt the back of her head, making sure she was alright.

“Mom, I’m sorry you had to be a part of this, but I have taken care of everything.” He walked over and gave his Mom a kiss on the cheek then left to go check on his wife.

She was laying down when he entered the room. He walked over and sat beside her. “Are you sure you are alright? I don’t think he will ever come near you again. I think he learned a valuable lesson when it comes to messing with my woman.”

Jane touched her lip and felt pain but didn’t see any blood. Henry could see one of her eyes beginning to turn dark. He left the room and then came back with a piece of frozen meat. “Here, put this over that eye. You’re going to end up with a shiner if you don’t.”

She laid it over her eye and felt her ribs with her free hand. She winced from pain. “He scared me to death Henry. I thought he was going to kill me. What made him go ape on me like that? Why me?”

Henry looked at her but he didn’t want to tell her how he had thrown the first punch. He said nothing and she asked him again. “Jane, just don’t worry about nothing. It’s all over now. Why don’t you lay here and get some rest. I am going to go check on Mom again.”

Jane rolled over on her side and again winced from pain. Henry covered her up and then left her to rest. He walked back to the kitchen and saw his Mom still sitting there. He then went out the back door and sat on the steps. He lit up a cigarette and sat there inhaling and enjoying each smoke ring he made.

He knew he had lost control. He realized that he had acted before thinking. Jane would be so mad at him if she knew that he had provoked all of this. She could never find out. He finished his smoke and then went in and told his Mom that he was leaving for a while.

He drove around town and then out to the lake. He sat in his car looking at familiar spots he and Jane had been at. He thought about Jane and the new baby coming. He thought about his Mom and then he thought about the hole in the wall. He started the car and headed for the hardware store to get items needed to patch the wall.

Bruised eye

 

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Double Blessings

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lighteningI got a double dose of smiles today from both Al and my own face. I went to see Al during his lunch time. He opened the sack holding his car and he just grinned. He said he was shocked then he said he was happy. Yeah!!!

He told me next that he walked down to the dining room holding on to his wheelchair. He said his pain was almost gone. This new stronger pain patch is working! I don’t care how long it works for right now I am happy.

We got ready to go to the dining room. He stood up and used his wheel chair to go to the bathroom. He still stumbles and almost falls but he did it. He walked all the way to the dining room. He was even quicker in his step.

I was so proud of him and so happy for him I made over him like cooing over a new-born baby. This made him so proud. I can see that the patch doesn’t help his eating or stumbles but my gosh he walked!

I am hoping there are stronger doses when this one becomes immune to his body. I don’t want him to be dependent but let’s face it, he is. He has terrible pains and this is helping. I just had to spread the word that today was a double blessing indeed.

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A Bit of Bad News and a Small Blessing From God

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Wheelchair seating in a theater (i.e. giving a...

I just received a call from where Al is staying. I didn’t really know whether to cry or just do what I usually do, go numb.

We all go through things in life for sure. Some we know are going to happen down the road, but we play with the idea and then when the road stops, we are blown apart.

Can we really plan on how we are going to react to scenarios that come across our paths?

I had been expecting this call, but I guess not so soon. Al has been in therapy for one week for wheelchair training. The key to the pot of gold is to have him get from a chair or bed to a wheelchair all by himself.

The week went fast and the results were not so good. They tell me that Al’s Parkinson’s Disease is just progressing too quick. He is very stiff and slower than the world’s slowest snail.

I know what they are saying, I just don’t want to face the ugly mask. I tried lifting Al’s leg once a week ago and it felt like it had rigimortis. I know that sounds awful but that is what it reminded me of.

They said there is nothing else they can do to help stop this disease. He is about 85% wheelchair bound now. When he tries to walk he stumbles or falls. I guess I have to take the numbing gel off and realize he won’t walk much longer.

I know to some of you walking a distance of a yard is good, but to me it is so much like watching your child take his or hers first steps in life. I want him to walk all the time. I am not ready to accept this.

My biggest anger comes from the fact he will be 58 in May. 58 and confined to a wheelchair before 59. I know it could be worse. There are other people who have life much rougher.

But please, understand this is my baby brother. He is all I have left in the world a part from my own children. I guess I mean to say he is all I have left from my own original family. The Lord helped Al today. Al also found out the news that therapy was over. As soon as he was given notice of no more therapy, God stepped in and made the phone ring at the facility.

The gentleman that usually goes out on Wednesdays to the day program and a small outing was ill. Did Al want to go in his place? The facility called me to see if it was alright. I asked, ” Did you ask Al yet?”

“Yes, and he said yes”, they replied.

“Then give him what he wants. Let him go! Let him forget this for just a little while longer” I said.

Thank-you God for doing the little things. Others may have not noticed, but I did Lord.

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A Cry to God

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Brick Barn

A cry could be heard. ” Help me, please somebody help me.” A man who had been secretly living in the woods heard the echos of the voice. Stamping out his small fire he raced to the voice’s direction.

The man knew he would be trespassing but he had to help. He opened the barn door wide. His eyes adjusting to the dark inside. Yellow eyes turned in his direction. Fear took over the stranger. Urine ran down  his pant legs as he saw the size of the beast.

In the corner standing on several stacks of hay was a young boy. Guessing to be around the age of ten he looked much smaller than the wild beast who had decided he was hungry.

The animal turned a way from the stranger. The size of the two humans was an easy quest to be decided. Smaller was better.  He lunged at the boy and missed his mark as the target moved one more stack up.

The stranger picked up a shovel and charged the animal trying to hit him hard enough to knock him out. He got within inches when the beast turned and clawed him slapping him to the ground. The man rolled over a few times and bumped his head on something hard.

Turning back to his prey the creature honed in and leaped to the spot where the boy was huddled. With open jaws he managed to chomp down on an arm and dragged him to the ground.

The trespasser woke and saw what was happening. He had nothing to use. There was nothing to protect him  in sight. He once again charged at the animal. He landed on top of the wild animal. He rode him digging his legs into the creature’s side.

The beast released his jaws on the boy and rolled his neck back. He saw his enemy and tossed him but the man clung tight. The two struggled in the hay strewn over the barn floor. Each fighting for their lives. There was no thought of the young boy any longer. It was man against beast.

The growls from the animal stirred a commotion among the barn animals. The lone sleeper  in the house was  awakened. Pa grabbing his boots and coat grabbed his gun. Racing to the barn just as the boy was climbing down the hay a gun shot was heard.

The noise startled the animal and he took off running out the doors. Pa had meant to kill the beast but at the second he pulled the trigger his son was running to him. He fell to the ground crying,” Papa, Papa it hurts.”

Papa ran to him throwing his rifle down. He picked up his son in his arms and gently rocked him back and forth. As he glanced in the direction of the strange man he tried to sooth his son by saying,”It’s going to be alright son. Oh God, I am so sorry son. I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

Please Almighty God let my son live. I didn’t mean to shoot him. It was an accident. Oh God help me.

The stranger lay in the spot the beast left him. Too weak to stand. Blood seeping from puncture wounds. Inside he was praying also, and cursing himself that he could do nothing but lay here and watch.

The sobbing from the young boys body became quiet. His boy lay lifeless as he died in his Papa’s arms. The stranger closed his eyes trying to keep tears in but they found their way and were running down his cheeks.

Papa grabbed his boy and hugged him tighter. ” I am so sorry son, I am so sorry. God, you didn’t listen to me. You ignored me. What kind of God are you that you would let an innocent child die? Where were you when I called out to you? Why, why did you ignore me? he sobbed into the rafters.

He held his son close to him kissing his forehead. He ran his fingers through his hair. Tears pouring out of his eyes he finally admitted defeat and lay him down on the hay. He curled himself in a ball and sobbed for his child.

How can I ever forgive myself for this? What have I done to my son? I can’t live with this. Where were you God when I needed you?

The stranger tried to move and was able to edge his way closer to the son’s papa. Pain was running through his body and he heard his own moans coming from his throat. Still he continued to move closer to the grieving man.

Something inside of the father stirred him to move. He sat up with blank eyes . A look of anguish  plastered over his face.

Papa stood up and picked up his son. He walked out of the barn and laid the boy in the soft blades of grass. He walked back into the barn and grabbed a  horse blanket. He placed it over his son.

He then walked to the stranger and knelt down.” Are you going to be alright? Are you hurt bad? I can see the blood coming from you leg. I will go in the house and call a doctor to get you some help.”

He reached for another blanket and covered the stranger. He walked towards the house and disappeared behind the front door. The stranger laid there moving his arms and legs. Checking out his damages. He knew he was going to be alright as long as he got help.

He laid there going over in his mind all that had just happened. He drifted in and out of sleep his body adjusting to the pain. Soon a shadow over came him and he opened his eyes to look into the doctor’s face.

The doctor was able to clean him up enough so that he could be taken in the car to his office. He walked outside and picked up the dead child and placed him inside the back seat of his car.

” Don’t you think we should let the father know we are leaving? I am sure he will want to come along for his son.”

” No, there is no need. I have already called for an ambulance. I knocked at the front door several times but no one answered. I looked through the window and saw a body on the floor. I went inside to find he had taken his own life. I think we should get you to a doctor.”

The doctor drove his car from the barn to the house. He carried the son’s body inside and laid it next to his Papa. Carefully covering both bodies he walked back to his car. The ambulance pulled up and the doctor motioned towards the open door. He then got in his car and drove towards his office to stitch up this man.

 

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Picture It & Write; Blind Sight Edition

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http://ermiliablog.wordpress.compictureitandwrite2copy-1seventies photo

The picture in my mind

Resembles this photo

I came across

Racing up the steps

Once again from school

Running back down the steps

To be with my friends

Slumber parties, skate-a-thons, driving my new second-hand car

My boyfriend walks up to meet my parents for the first time

My family walking down together to go to church

Walking slowly down as we attend funerals of loved ones.

Watching Daddy walking up the stairs coming home from work

Where have all the days gone

Have I really gotten older?

Am I all grown up

Now I sit here with this picture in my mind

Smiling as I travel down memory lane

If only I could reach out and touch

Mommy and Daddy’s hands once again.

 

Terry Shepherd

03/17/2013

On and On and On

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English: Modern wheelchair

English: Modern wheelchair (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another story I am going to write about. I hope you are not getting tired of hearing about my brother.

I received a call today from an office lady. We have been having issues with Al understanding that he can’t take much money when he goes to outings. This is another similar situation. He was going out and wanted to place a car on lay-a-way at Wal-Mart. He needed more money than what I allow him.

She called to  see if I would approve it and I said no. Now don’t think I am being mean and rude. I just put up two long shelves in his bedroom. I filled them with his cars. I have filled every table and dresser I can and two bookshelves with his things. I can not afford any longer to place cars, coca-cola and other odds and ends on his floor because of his instability.

The rest that I had no safe place to put I bagged and placed in his closet. The facility also does not like him having these cars in his room because of theft. So I said no. I was planning on going to see him so went a few minutes early to talk to him.

I explained why he can’t have the car and he went into his adult temper tantrum. He accused me of not caring about him. He even went so far as to say that I thought he was a retard. Wow, that one threw me for a loop.

I won and he was upset. I dissected his issues and think that  part of him was wanting to throw his fit because he wasn’t getting his way. Another part of him really didn’t comprehend why he couldn’t have more cars. Lastly he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have his money now. He thinks the facility stole it from him.

I have to admit I think they charge huge amounts of dollars but beside the point I guess. I told Al that he and I have to pay for him to be there. We would save the bigger cars for Birthdays and Christmas.

Finally he settled enough to eat and then his ride appeared to take him. I took her aside and asked her to please quit taking him to Wal-Mart so often. It stirs things up inside his head. That I would prefer if he went to the day program more often than not. I added that stopping to get a diet coke was not a bad idea either. Just keep him out of toy sections and antique stores. He doesn’t need to visit them every single week. She said alright.

I was getting ready to leave and I saw one of the therapist on my way out. She used to come to the house to do Al’s therapy. I stopped and chatted for a few. I asked her how Al was doing in his wheel chair therapy. She said, “We are almost done. He is refusing to do anymore work on it. I am not wasting my time on someone who refuses to do the work.  He claims it hurts to bad. As far as the transfer from chair to wheelchair, this isn’t going bad at all.”

I said,”What else are you trying to get him to do?”

She came back with “We are trying to keep him walking”.

I explained,”I have been over this many times with you and have had a recent meeting about not trying to fix the broken parts. I don’t want you to work on the walking. Not that I don’t want him to try but it is getting very difficult for him. I would much rather have you work on the wheelchair training. This is what he is going to need worse as you have stated he can barely walk anymore”.

She looked at me and said, “Oh I would think you would want him to keep walking.”

“I sure would like that a lot, if he could. He still walks but just tiny distances. It seems to me the wheelchair is going to play a large part in his life from now on”.

She turned away and went back to what she was doing and I turned and left the front doors. I was thinking,here we go again. Another day of I can’t get my point across. Another day of others thinking they can fix the broken pieces.

Can’t anyone hear me? I would give Al my legs if he would walk again. But the Parkinson’s Disease is bigger than Al and me put together. I have to accept that he is walking less and less and depending on the wheelchair. So let’s just work on that and leave it at that, please????

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Who To Trust

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Thinking

It’s getting to the place that I have few I can trust. You are thinking gee, what happened to her?

It is just no matter who I talk to anymore whether it is about car tire pressure, or car lots selling cars or even professionals their words are not quite the same as the next persons.

I trust each of my friends here at WP. I trust my very best friend. I trust God.

Are you thinking,what has brought this up? Probably and I will answer.

I called the nursing home and asked how Al had been doing this morning. The nurse said good, no complaints from him. So I had her ask him if he would like me to bring lunch from the DQ and the answer came back yes.

I get there and he is laying on his bed. There is blood spots all over the floor. His bed is wet. He has a bloody rag in his hands and his mustache is filled with blood. I asked,”What happened?”

He starts crying and I do figure out from the pieces I hear him saying that he has had another nose bleed. This is like I don’t even know anymore how many, too many. I go to find out more information from the nurse.

Part of me is upset because there is a dirty pad in his chair filled with blood and left-overs of some type of food. The floor is as I said blood spotted. He is crying. What am I supposed to think.

I couldn’t find the nurse as usual. I go back in to Al and he sees the lunch I brought. He fights with all his power to sit up and the nose goes into more of a run now with the blood. He struggles to get in his wheel chair but does it. He has to use the bathroom so he puts his call light on. We wait a few but no one comes so I go on the hunt again for the aide and the nurse.

I do find the nurse and get the picture of what has been happening. Another nose bleed she says. She says,” I think Al is picking his nose and making it bleed. I stuck a flash light towards the opening of his nostril and I saw a scab.”

Ok I am thinking. So we turn to go check out Al and he is gone. I hear the stool flush so I now know where he is. The nurse calls me a way from the door and whispers, “Watch in the mirror here in the hall.”

I am thinking what? but I watch. Soon Al walks without his walker back to his wheelchair. I am amazed that he did it better than I thought. He stumbled a little but caught himself on whatever was close for him.

She and I walk in and she says, ” He can do more than he is letting on. He just wants your pity.” I said, ” What about the times when I am not here? Does he want my pity then too?” She just looked at me. Al heard all of this. He is so extra sensitive with his feelings. According to the neurologist this is a part of the Parkinson’s.

The nurse tells him,” You are just pulling your sister’s leg.” This really set his emotions off. He started crying. His nose started bleeding more. The  nurse told him,”If you don’t stop the crying I am going to have to send you to the ER to get your nose packed.”

Al tried to quit but the tears just got faster. The tremors went in quad speed. The blizzard he was holding was spilling all over his clothes. His nose was running blood. It was a mess.

The nurse left and an aide came in. Between her and I we went through three wash cloths of blood and a clean outfit. He cried the whole time I was there. So he never ate his lunch and he spilled half of his drink.

This is my opinion. Al has been belittled by his Dad all his life. He has always been very sensitive. Now that the PD is in full swing his sensitivity is so strong that every little word that is attacking him he burst in to tears. The nurse’s words upset him.

I think Al is very very emotional. He gets his feelings hurt pretty easy. Just seeing what had just transpired proved me more right than wrong. I went out in the hall while the aide changed his clothes.

The nurse was waiting outside the door as if she was listening to the inside conversation. She said,” See he is just crying for your pity.”

When he was all cleaned up and it was him and I again I asked him how he could walk to the bathroom without help or the wheelchair. His explanation was this. ” I put on the call light but I can’t always hold it long enough until help gets here. I pee my pants. So I have quit putting the call light on. I can’t make the wheel chair go in the direction I need it to in this small room so I just walk to the bathroom and back to my seat.”

Part of me understood what he was saying but I told him I didn’t like him walking without someone being there with him, but he said, “Sis, I have to go pee and it won’t wait.”

Then he got all confused and told me he couldn’t walk down to the dining room. I told him that he was right. So the conversation and confusion about what to use when to use was all lost.

Getting Al to understand what I am saying is really difficult the more he has PD. I helped him lie down and told him to rest or take a nap. I took his food to the nurse and asked her to label it as he may want it later. I asked her to chart that he ate very little and she asked why. I just walked back to Al’s room without answering.

I know that was rude. I am sorry. I was frustrated. I didn’t know what to believe or who to believe. The nurse came back in to check on his bleeding and told me, ” You have to use tough love.”

I felt one tear from one eye and then one from the other.I didn’t want to show my tears.  I told Al I loved him and that I hoped he would feel better. I said I would be back Tuesday. His room was filled with bloody rags and still spots all over  the floor. The room smelled like stale pee. I turned to walk out and saw the nurse smiling at me. I walked on by.

Who do I trust? Me, the nurse, Al, God, who? My heart may be too involved with Al, I don’t know. All I do know is what I observed today. A mixed up PD guy who didn’t eat, was a bloody mess, and had never stopped crying. Am I too soft on  him? Or does he just have good days and bad? Am I guilty in some way of him being in that wheelchair? Should I have practiced tough love and maybe he would still be walking?

I don’t have the answers. I do wish the nurse would have called me and let me know what was happening. I wasted the time and money on the food that he didn’t eat, and I left just as sad as Al was.

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