271 Days Until the Big Five-0

The Third Person

My cousin Sheldon who is mentally challenged talks to people using their name when he should be saying “you.” It is rather annoying.

He will call me up and say:

“How is Benita doing?”

I will sarcastically answer:

“I don’t know, hold on and I will go ask her.”

He quickly chuckles and then corrects himself. He knows how to speak properly, but he has this strange unbreakable habit of constantly using the third person in almost every situation. He can be with my entire family, and look directly at me and ask if “Marc likes to watch baseball?” I look at him and say “I don’t know, ask him, he is standing right there!” Then I angrily point at my husband who is less than two feet away from me as if it is his fault my cousin is getting on my nerves. Sometimes I can laugh it off, but usually it just makes me nuts. It is difficult to be around him for very long periods of time. I should feel guilty about this, but I don’t anymore. I have spent a huge amount of time and energy helping my two special needs cousins (brothers who are only 11 months apart in age). I have a soft spot for them in my heart because I loved their father, my Uncle Mikey. He was an amazing man and looking back, he probably had some “special needs” as well but I was too young to understand. Maybe it was a combination of a lack of education and other life circumstances that limited my Uncle Mikey’s ability to make a living in any way other than as a janitor or a bartender.

Sheldon’s younger brother Bobby was born with cerebral palsy but that is the least of his problems. Many people don’t realize that when an individual has a condition like Cerebral Palsy, it is often accompanied by other problems, emotional and psychological issues. About twenty years ago Bobby was hit by a car while crossing the street one morning. He survived but was in a Rehabilitation Facility for one year. Both legs were badly broken and he also had a major head trauma. He now lives a life in intense pain and heavy medication. He has seizures and always seems one step away from a trip to the emergency room. Bobby talks over other people constantly. He is always trying to finish everyone else’s sentences. It is as irritating as his brother’s constant misuse of nouns and pronouns.

When my Uncle Mikey died in the 1980’s Sheldon and Bobby adopted my mother. They needed someone to guide them and watch over them. Sheldon began calling my mother 3 or 4 times a day. He would ask her questions about absolutely everything you can imagine from what kind of paper towels to buy to how he should talk to a co-worker who is being rude to him, to what kind of gift to give someone for their birthday. He and Bobby became Becky’s children. Sheldon often slipped and instead of calling her Aunt Becky, he would refer to her as “mother” (in the third person of course).

Now my mother Becky is actually being haunted by my cousins. Her infection and medications leave her in a state of confusion and having hallucinations. My mother has not gone senile. She has gone somewhere else. She knows who I am and her personality is still intact complete with a good sense of humor, a hearty appetite, and a strong desire to play bingo and kalookie. Yet, she is constantly yelling at Bobby and Sheldon. She thinks they are behind her at all times. She is telling them to shut up. It is this bizarre turn of events that has me so perplexed. She will tell me stories of how Sheldon arrived at 8 a.m. and has not left her alone for one minute. She does not want him there. Then she yells at Bobby for finishing all her sentences.

Sheldon and Bobby’s annoying mannerisms and habits are flooding my mother’s mind. I wish I could rescue her from this maddening sea she finds herself afloat in, but instead I find myself wanting to run away from Bobby and Sheldon and all their neediness. Am I going to burn in Hell one day for having these feelings? What does this say about me? I have a limited amount of compassion and patience and I don’t want to waste it on my cousins. I want to hoard it and use it all up on Becky. It is the least I can do for the woman who brought me into this world.

Perhaps I was never fully “born”, delivered by a doctor and cut from the umbilical cord. Perhaps I was brought forth but not completely away from Becky.