Deb watched Greg vanish, slowly and painfully, piece by piece. He stopped seeing friends because he couldn’t hold a conversation, stopped showering because he was afraid of drowning, stopped watching football because he could no longer understand what was happening on the television screen. His last piece of art was a doodle, drawn at a Dallas memory care facility in 2013, in an art class that consisted of Greg and eight elderly women.
Greg came home from the class, upset.
“What is the matter?” Deb said.
“I’m embarrassed,” Greg said. “I can’t do it anymore.”
Fuck them so hard. Fuck dementia and a double fuck you to toxic masculinity and sports capitalism that forces these men to destroy their bodies and minds for profit and entertainment.
“Please help me,” he said. “I don’t want to be like this.”