The Beginning Of The End

Tim's daily schedule went something like this.  He arose in the mornings at around 8:00 a.m.  I would serve him his coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.  He would sit in his favorite chair in our den and work on his laptop, make phone calls, etc.  We would talk and discuss things pertinent to the church or the children, etc.  At approximately 11:00 a.m. he would return to bed, to remain there often until 7:00 or 8:00 in the evening, when he would return to his chair and his laptop.  I would serve him a warmed up plate of whatever I had cooked that evening, or, if I had not cooked, I would throw something together for him or make a fast food run.  I am an early riser, so by 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. I was ready to get into bed and read a little before drifting off to sleep.  Tim's sleep pattern was way off due to the medications, so many nights he was up until the wee hours of the morning while I slept.  This was our life.

I remember one morning when he seemed to be feeling really well and maybe even a little energetic.  He sat me down and told me he wanted to work on our relationship, spend more time together as well as more time with the kids, etc.  He said he wanted us to make a promise to one another that he and I would have a date night once a week, just the two of us.  He was very adamant that absolutely nothing or no one would hinder our dates.  I smiled and agreed and if my memory serves me well, I believe we even "shook on it."
But deep down inside I knew not to get my hopes us.  I knew that he struggled with a lot of guilt over his sickness and the way that it had affected our relationship and family life.......I knew it wouldn't last, it was something that he could not follow thru on.  I totally forgot about it only to think of it weeks later, and to my sadness, realize that a date had never and would never occur.

Towards the end he rarely left the house.  I can honestly say that he never left the house except on Sunday and Wednesdays for church.  He also had a weekly midmorning meeting with his personal secretary which was cancelled often due to his health.  I would beg him to go have lunch with me in the afternoons and he just would not do it.  On occasion we would go out for dinner, but it was rare.  I finally bought an above ground pool hoping that it would get him out of the house, get him a little exercise.  I put the pool up by myself and I can recall my being able to convince him to get in a total of once.  I LOVED that pool however and spent many hours in it, cleaning it which I found very therapeutic.  As time went on, there were other changes in Tim that concerned and confused me.

He asked me to start picking out his church clothes for him.  He said he couldn't see to match the clothes properly.  I did some research lately on nervous breakdowns and discovered that loss of eye sight is a common symptom in someone suffering a breakdown.  From there, he asked me to comb his hair for him as well.  I honestly don't know why he was unable to perform these menial tasks anymore, I do not understand it.  It's funny, but some of my fondest memories of those final days are of my combing his hair.  He would sit on the edge of the bathtub and I would put the gel or mouse in his hair and style if for him.  I would joke around and do a mohawk or some other unattractive hairdo and he would act silly, making us both laugh........he had become very childlike and my feelings had evolved into an almost maternal type of love.  I had always been the protector, now I was the caretaker as well.

One of the most disturbing changes in Tim however was the change in his personal hygiene and a lack of interest in his appearance.  Tim had ALWAYS bathed every single day and brushed his teeth at least once a day, and although he was not very "fashion forward," he liked to look nice, neat and well kept when he went out in public.  I started noticing that he bathed and brushed his teeth only before going to church or going out for a special occasion.  On one occasion, after observing this for some time, we prepared for bed and I inquired when he had last bathed.  He said it had been a few days.  I kindly asked him not to get into bed until he had bathed.  He became angry and defensive but I didn't know what else to do.  I wanted to scream at him that a lack of personal hygiene is ALSO a sign of mental illness........but, of course, I kept my opinion to myself, worried, frightened, not knowing what to do to help him.

  I distinctly remember one day when he was dressing for a meeting at a restaurant with his secretary.  He had on a pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt that looked like they had been rolled up into tight balls and stuffed into a drawer, and a pair of sandals with white socks.  That description may seem comical, but as I looked into his bloodshot eyes and unshaven face my heart broke into a thousand pieces.  I would not let him leave the house like that.  Frustrated I reminded him of who he was!  He was the Pastor of Phoenix Revival Center!  The Secretary for the Apostolic Man Ministry and Editor of their magazine!  I think he had forgotten.

Tim had never been the most punctual of people, but his tardiness took a dire turn in the last year.  
As I explained previously, Tim slept most of the day, so, he would work Monday,Tuesday and early Wednesday on his Bible Study for Wednesday night.  Then, he would sleep most of that day trying to gain strength for the evening service.  I would wake him  at least one hour before time to leave the house, but inevitably, I would have a struggle getting him up.  So, what usually transpired was Haley and I leaving the house in my own car, leaving Tim to continue getting ready for church..  On at least four to five separate occasions he did not show up until time to walk up onto the platform and take the pulpit.  And on several other occasions he didn't even make it on time for that.  I can remember singing extra songs, having testimony service (which we never did), anything to kill time until he arrived.  I would break out in cold clammy sweats, trembling, so afraid he would not show, so tired of the questioning looks from our saints.  I can recall bending over as far as I could in the pew, so as not to be seen and calling him on my cell phone asking him where in the world he was?!  Once, our Assistant Pastor asked me from the pulpit, "Sis. McCary, do you know where Pastor is?"  I don't know why, but that was one of the most humiliating moments of my life.  I felt like everything was unravelling and that I could no longer hold it together.  I was completely overwhelmed and exhausted.