Phillip, and Poor Tony.

Trigger warning- some strong language, and suicide content.

Phillip and Poor Tony.

Part One- Sick Down To My Bones.

Pacing back and forth, Tony could not control his speech as he vented to his caregiver, Phillip.

“I can’t sleep! I’m afraid to sleep! You’re paid to be here with me. Can you, please, just listen? I’ll have to take a shower eventually. Dreading it. I’m actually scared about it. Will need you on stand-by in case I have another fall. Been fighting off a seizure, too. If my whole face becomes numb, or if my hands draw in- that’s code red. That means, please get me to the nearest emergency room. Please.”

“Well, we’re not gonna have that shit today. No sir. No seizures.” Phillip, his caregiver said so calmly that it simply put Tony at ease. No more numbness, but pain hit him like a bludgeon.

“My stomach! I have colitis and IBS. Fuuuuck!” Said Tony as he raced to the bathroom. “I need two Imodium, please, Phillip. Please.” Embarrassed, Phillip saw Tony naked for the first time as he handed him the pills. He had always liked Tony, and was impressed by what he had just seen. He wrapped up poor Tony in two large green towels, and he retrieved a chair, and sat next to Tony as he was sick as a dog.

Under the weather, Tony threw up on Phillip’s new leather shoes. This made Phillip sad, but what could he do? He cared for this man with his whole heart, so he cleaned them up quickly as Tony cried.

“Baseboards? Yeah, I’ll clean your baseboards any time, and any day. You just say the word. I’m hear for you Mr. Tony. I’m here for ya!” Phillip once said.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to throw up! It’s creatine. I was trying to get better, but now I’m still sick as a dog. Fever. Chills. Aches. Motherfucker! I can’t get warm. I can’t get warm!”

Phillip usually arrived on Tony’s good days. Today was different. Phillip knew Tony had thirty-nine diagnosis, but they were all invisible to him… until now.

“Can you, please, put on Gregory Alan Isakov’s, “The Stable Song?” It calms me.” Phillip played the song, and it was beautiful. Shakey, and chilled, Tony began to sweat profusely right there on the toilet. It was time to get him all cleaned up, so Phillip got him in the shower for the first time. Nervous, he could clearly see that Tony appreciated his help, and this meant a lot to Phillip. As the song played on, Phillip helped Tony wash his face, and neck then his hair.

“All done!” Phillip exclaimed as Tony threw up in the shower drain. Phillip cleaned it up right away. He even had a smile on his face as he did it. Then he got poor Tony all dried off. He wrapped him up in the warm towels again, and set him on the toilet.

“Can you get yourself dressed?” Phillip asked.

“If you could just pick me out some clothes, and hand them to me- that would help a lot. Then I can manage… Phillip, thank you.” And Phillip just smiled.

“You ready for CPAP time?” Phillip asked.

“Not yet. I’d like to watch my show. Then I’ll lie down… Thanks for staying late. I promise- just forty-two minutes, and I’ll go to bed. Dreading the CPAP!” Tony was not used to the machine as he had just been diagnosed with sleep apnea despite nine years of complaining about his breathing.

Finally, it was time to get Tony to bed. Phillip knew Tony required medical marijuana, so he helped him smoke it without judgment, and he also needed a gin and tonic with limes- doctor’s orders! He was happy to pour him one. Then it was time to strap Tony to his machine. Phillip knew Tony would fight against it, but it had to go on.

“No!” Tony cried. “It suffocates me. And when I can’t feel the air coming through- I panic!”

“It’s got to go on. The insurance won’t cover it unless it’s on for three hours a night.”

“No!” He cried. Then he, all teary-eyed, said, “Okay.” And that was that.

Phillip left quietly. He wanted to say things to Tony. About how truly he did care for him. It was not just his job. It was something else. Something deeper. Not romantic exactly, but close. An attachment of sorts. Perhaps- one day something more.

“Phillip! I can’t get my mask off. Phillip?!” Tony cried out, but Phillip had gone, and Tony was alone. “Oh, Phillip.”

Part Two- The Loss, and the Sadness.

“Is this our last session?”

“Yes, it is. They have done away with my position. I’m heartbroken.” Tony cried as Phillip broke the news.

As Phillip walked off into the cold fog, Tony feared he would never see his caregiver again, and it pained him so that he raced to his CPAP machine, yet it was not enough to help him. He died alone in bed. You should have seen his face.

When Phillip found out about his demise- he cried with mixed emotions. Tony was tortured, but their beautiful attachment made him feel at peace. There was love and respect. But God did Tony have to be so much fun to be around? Did he have to be so damn attractive? Tony’s heart ached, and he now had no one to express his feelings to. Devastated, he listened to Maria Callas’s, “Tosca, Act II: Visi d’ arte,” blaring on his phone as he walked slowly to a nearby bridge. Thinking of Tony was tough. He wanted to care for him longer, but this would not be the case. Death it was. It was time to die, and with the sweet puff of Tony’s medical marijuana- he lept, and he landed flat on the highway. He was mangled unrecognizably by cars that could not slow down. Sad. The coroner said it was a suicide of passion. Sad. Phillip did love Tony after all. His death song proves this. The song! So powerful! Perhaps he sang along as he fell. In some religions- suicide is a HELL sentence, but no one knew what was going through Phillip’s head in those final moments before he hit. It was a tall bridge. Unfinished, but that did not stop Phillip. As if driven to kill himself by demons who would soon welcome him in hell, Phillip thought out loud. “Poor Tony.” It began to rain then, and Phillip leapt, and landed with a splat.

“God? I couldn’t take it anymore, and I’m sorry for what I did. Maybe pills would’ve been less dramatic. But in that moment- I was being pushed over the edge. “Tosca.” And all that sadness. Is Tony here? Can I see him? Please?”

”No!” Then God stomped his foot, and sent the sinner to hell where he, and Tony would be kept in separate realms for all of eternity.