This Body is Bullshit

A Lot in a Few Days

The weeks have been feeling extra long lately. By Tuesday at work I swear it should already be Thursday.

This week started heavier than most.

Monday we had a follow-up with my dad’s neurologist. After months of questions and watching and not quite knowing, we finally got the official diagnosis: FTD — frontotemporal dementia. The same thing Bruce Willis has.

We knew it was some form of dementia. We’d been bracing for something. But hearing those three letters out loud still hit hard. There’s no treatment. Nothing to slow it down. No roadmap. And the cruelest part of this particular disease is that he doesn’t know he has it — he genuinely cannot comprehend it. If you know my dad, you know he’s a stubborn, proud, impossible maniac who has never once made anything easy. This is not going to go smoothly.

I’ve been walking around with this weird ache in my chest ever since. Part heartbreak, part anxiety. Not sleeping much. It’s all-consuming in a way that makes me forget what else I’m supposed to be worried about, which is saying something because my list is usually long.

And yet life keeps moving, because it always does.

Friday we hosted the birthday party for Kathy, Cory, and Amy — muumuus required, laughs mandatory. It was a good turnout and everyone needed it, especially Kathy. But of course it wasn’t without a hitch. She got dropped off by my dad, and on his way home he got lost. It put a shadow over the evening that we tried to push through. We mostly succeeded. Cory stayed the night, helped me clean up, and just having her there was a comfort I didn’t realize I needed that much.

Saturday the ladies had a day — farmers market and boardwalk shops in Batavia, then lunch and more shopping in Geneva. It was exactly the kind of ordinary nice day that feels like a gift right now. We wished Cory had stayed longer, but she headed home after one of her heart-to-hearts, leaving us with love and hope the way she always does. Then Kathy went home. Back to my dad. Back to life.

Sunday, Matt and I went to the celebration of life for his friend Geoff. It was a good service — really touching. Geoff’s daughter spoke. She’s 21 and has now lost both of her parents, and she stood up there and did it with such grace. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. Rusty and Ben both spoke too, and somehow both of them managed to get a laugh out of everyone while clearly being devastated. That’s a gift. Watching these guys grieve together, show up for each other, make sure that girl knows she’s not alone — it meant something.

It’s been a lot for a few days. Diagnosis, party, loss, laughter, grief, all of it tangled together. That ache in my chest is still there.

My daughter sent me a Michael Jordan TikTok in the middle of all of it and honestly — I needed that. Go back to those days. I miss Michael Jordan.

Tomorrow it’s Monday again.