Read Online Trust No One by Paul Cleave - Free Book Online

big day and no doubt you’re tired,” he says. “I’ll be back soon,” he adds, and then slips out of the room.
    Jerry knows he’s right. Yesterday was a big day—so big he can’t even remember it.

DAY TEN
    Hey stranger! Remember me? I’m that guy you used to know, what’s his name, the writer dude, the one with the funny-sounding disease. This is day ten of the Madness Journal. Sorry it’s not so regular, but life and the things that go along with it (that you’ll soon start to forget) keep getting in the way.
    Actually, enough joking around. How are you? Seriously, Jerry, you doing okay? Hopefully things aren’t too messed up. Hopefully the journal isn’t having a negative effect on you. It may be a map back to the person you once were, but it’s also serving as a reminder to what you’ve lost.
    Day ten and you feel like you’ve always felt. Fit. Healthy. A little tired, maybe, but that’s all. You actually went out to dinner last night with Sandra—in all your years since being married, you’ve always had at least one date night every month—and you both spoke about books, and movies, what was happening in the news, what some of your friends were up to. It was really nice to just talk about something other than the insanity bomb waiting to detonate at some point in the future. Wherever you are, hopefully you’re coping.
    The counselor came around this afternoon. Her name is Beverly, and her breasts were so huge they were resting on her knees when she sat down, and were almost resting on her knees even when she was standing. She’s in her fifties now, but by the time she’s sixty they’ll surely have snapped her spine in half. Sandra told me afterwards that she reminded her of one of our professors back at university, a Miss Malady, who she used to call Miss Catlady, and as soon as she said it you saw the resemblance. You’d like Beverly—she’s pretty funny, for the most part, but serious when she needs to be. She came around and we were right, buddy—out came the five stages of dementia, or grief. Stage one—denial. She pointed out you had been in denial since the first time you forgot Sandra’s name and put it down to the drinks. She said you’re still going to be in a stage of denial for a while—it’s the shock, you see. Of course where you are, denial was way back, along with the other four. You probably reached acceptance a long time ago—or did you? Are you reading this now, still refusing to believe what’s happened? It’s hard to know how to feel about that. Sad, in some ways, but in others it’s comforting to think of you staying strong, of staying steadfast and refusing to allow the Dark Tomorrow that is on its way to arrive.
    Stage two—anger. She said anger was something you were going to be prone to as the disease becomes more pronounced. She said there will be mood swings ahead, that you’re going to get pissed off at the disease, at life, at those trying to help. You’re going to be snapping at people and saying mean things. You thought earlier it might be useful to push Sandra away—useful for her—but after today, after listening to Beverly, well, you’re as scared as ever. There are drugs to make you more comfortable—us more comfortable—and she said this journal was a good idea and asked if Sandra could read it because it might help chart the progression. You said you’d think about it, but you should have just said no. This is for your eyes only, buddy. Remember that.
    So denial and anger are the two things you’re going through now. Bargaining is next. Not sure who to bargain with, really. Who do you have to sell your soul to around here to get a clean bill of health? It’s possible within the next few weeks you’ll end up telling Doctor Goodstory there must be something, begging for anything that money can buy, just get you into the next clinical trial that is showing some kind of promise, doesn’t have to be the next sure thing—at this point