Now, there’s an ominous word. As in, of course, cancer. Mercifully, that’s not what afflicts me. Or, for an author (if I dare use that exalted term), something scarcely less terrifying: terminal writer’s block. But that’s not it either.

No, I think that what has me by the throat might better be described as “techno-terminal”. In other words, this blankety-blank computer. And all its barely comprehensible programs. Let me explain.

Twin One

I’m wrestling with a memoir tentatively titled, The Crazy Twins. In the first instance, it’s about my experiences with bipolar disorder. How my first go-round with the condition led to my parents having me involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital as a young man. Following a hunting trip. You know. The whole works: shotguns, an angry confrontation with my Dad, the cops hauling me away in a paddy wagon. And I’m not even a fan of Sigmund Freud and his Oedipus Complex.

But, finally, with the support of my wife, a good shrink, and the right combination of psych meds, I finally emerged, years later, at the other end of this dark tunnel of wild rides up. And life threatening downs.

And, oh. How could I forget? With the help of this Guy-Jesus-that I encountered in the midst of this craziness. And Who has sustained me-through thick and thin ever since. And how long is that? Oh, about 50 years or so.

Twin Two

And the second twin? Nearly as much “fun”: dementia. AKA, Alzheimers. But of much more recent vintage than than the bipolar.

But this is one that sneaks up on you; it’s sure taken me by surprise. In fact, the process is so gradual that if you pressed me, I might respond with, “Huh? What are you talking about? Me with Alzheimer’s?”

“Actually, yes,” I’d reply. “That’s what the doctors tell me.” They’ve even prescribed pills, Donepezil, that I swallow every day. True, whether those pills actually work is a matter of some debate in the medical community.

And, yes, there’s a new wonder drug on the market that’s supposed to be more effective: Aduhelm. But even this new drug has provoked a firestorm of controversy. First, because it’s outrageously expensive: a cool $56,000 per person per year. And given the tidal wave of Alzheimers that’s sweeping the nation, some believe this pill, all by its little-bitty self, could threaten the financial viability of Medicare. And, the second reason for all the Sturm und Drang? Because not even all the experts agree the medication actually works.

But if your Medicare goes belly up, don’t blame me. Why? Because I’m not a candidate for the new wonder drug. One of its potential side effects is to cause the brain to swell. And I already have a fat head: Normal Pressure Hydrocephalous. To relieve the pressure, they’ve installed a brain shunt (check out the link; medical technology is amazing). In fact, if you catch me within a few days of one of my el cheapo haircuts at Great Clips, you can actually see the shunt outlined in the close cropped hair at the back of my skull.

Technophobia

So, if The Crazy Twins aren’t enough to put the fear of God in a person, what in the world can do the trick? Well, isn’t it obvious?
Technology!
And before you dismiss me as hopelessly retrograde in terms of tech, consider all these word processing programs I’ve used.

• Pages: When my memoir was little more than a gleam in its creator’s eye, I started work in this MacBook word processing program. And while there was some text worthy of making it to the final draft (like the account of my stay at the funny farm), my early efforts to effectively use this app were laughable.
• Storyworth: From Pages, I moved on to something called Storyworth. It’s a primitive word processing program intended to allow the sharing of stories within a small family circle. A Christmas gift from exactly which family member I no longer have a clue (this Alzheimers’ is the dickens), it nonetheless houses some portions of the memoir worth preserving (like pulling all-nighters to drive to big Amway rallies all over the country-perhaps two of the worst things you can do for bipolar).
• WordPress: Probably the most widely used, versatile, and sophisticated blogging apps, WordPress hosts the vast majority of my posts.
• Orbit: Never heard of ’em? No wonder your marketing program isn’t working. They’re the ones who’ve taken my blog to the next level. Now, if they can just help me tie this whole crazy contraption together and get this darn (that’s “d-a-r-n”) memoir over the finish line!

The Home Stretch?

Now, I confess it’s been a dreadfully long run. And to say that I’ve been dilatory when it comes to keeping my nose to the memoir writing grindstone is a gross understatement. But I’ll take what comfort I can from the fable of the tortoise and the hare; victory doesn’t always go to the swift. It goes, in some cases, to the persistent. But even better? Swift and persistent. Because I’m pushing 71. And, at least on this side of eternity, my allotted number of days certainly isn’t growing. And none of those I have left is guaranteed.

But, if there is one thing going for The Crazy Twins it might be timing. Which is well illustrated by the many the folks around me today at the library where I’m writing: virtually all of them are wearing masks in response to the pandemic. Bizarre, stressful, unprecedented times. Times no-one predicted.

So, who knows? Maybe, just maybe, folks might be interested in the story of a guy whose brain got sideswiped by life not just once, but twice. First, with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that can send it wildly careening from irrational highs. To equally irrational lows. And second, Alzheimer’s.

Which brings me to the second thing that might give my memoir a boost: timing. Again. Like me, you can probably count the ways that the COVID pandemic hasn’t adversely effected mental health issues on less than one hand: depression, loneliness, domestic violence, etc. All worse with the pandemic. Up to 40% of Americans are experiencing mental health problems. And get this: 11% have seriously considered killing themselves.

While I’m not particularly proud of it, most of these pathologies (except domestic violence-you can ask my wife) are old friends of mine. As are the psychiatric treatments and some of the medications used to combat them. So, you could say I’m in a position of being able to speak from long experience as a survivor.

But, more importantly, I can speak as someone who’s managed not just to survive. But even thrive. Married for decades. A productive career, including 8 in the Colorado legislature. A wonderful family, including 6 grandkids.

Happy Trails To You!

Of course, I don’t know how you’ll respond to this post. My intent is that it be an encouragement in difficult times. But there’ve been dark stretches in my life when I would have deeply resented its relentless chirpiness. To which I’ll reply with a line I learned years ago in Amway that was supposed to be a foolproof way of over coming objections:

“I know how you feel. I felt the same way. But here’s what I found.”

And what did I find? Some day this pandemic will end. Just like Little Orphan Annie sings: “You can bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun!”

And perhaps even more of a solace? The American people are remarkably resilient: a Civil War, two World Wars, a grinding Great Depression, civil unrest. You name it. We’ve emerged from them all. And usually, stronger than before.

So, has COVID been tough? Absolutely. But will America, somehow, emerge stronger than ever?

I guess you know how I’m betting.