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FINAL DRAFT
Tragedy is defined in the dictionary as "an event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe" or "a play dealing with tragic events and having an unhappy ending, esp. one concerning the downfall of the main character." But in simpler terms, I think of tragedy as "just some plain ol' messed up stuff."
Case in point: some years ago I worked at a medical facility with a developmentally disabled man that I will call "Chris." Chris was a friendly guy with a sunny disposition who loved singing songs from commercials and watching cartoons. He could read, write, and had graduated high school. He was also diagnosed as having schizophrenia.
On my first day working at the facility, Chris greeted me by singing the theme from the "Tootsie Roll" candy commercial. You know, the one that goes, "Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a Tootsie Roll to me." I laughed, and we became friends.
I learned from his family that Chris' schizophrenia hadn't revealed itself until his junior year in high school. Chris was completely "normal" and was even a member of the track team. Then, out of nowhere, he began hearing voices and having visions. The family, not knowing how to deal with his outbursts and hallucinations, sent him away to receive medical care.
During the seven years that I worked with him, I never saw any signs of his schizophrenia. He had his bad days like everyone else, but his medication helped control the more difficult parts of his schizophrenia. I brought him to college parties with me, he visited my family during the holidays, and I took him home to see his family several times. I looked forward to going to work, and he became more like a brother to me than a client.
Then things started to change.
Over a gradual period of time, I began to notice a change in Chris' demeanor. He began sweating profusely. He began shaking uncontrollably when performing basic tasks. He stopped reading and talking. Our nursing staff was drew blood, ran tests, but couldn't figure out what was wrong. Doctors were puzzled as to what could be causing his downward spiral. Chris couldn't tell us, but obviously something was going horribly wrong.
I spoke with his family to update them on Chris' condition and I learned that Chris' father was displaying similar symptoms. As it turns out, both Chris and his father had Parkinson's disease. Chris' Parkinsons was compounded, however, by a lifetime of taking schizophrenic medications. Things went from bad to worse.
Chris deteriorated quickly as the muscles in his body betrayed him. The simple act of lifting a fork caused food to be flung across the room. His hands were clinched so tightly his fingers dug through the skin on his palms. He was unable to walk without assistance due to his leg muscles stiffening. Imagine flexing your muscle and holding it tightly. All day and night.
In less than two months, Chris' appearance changed drastically. He lost 40 lbs. He couldn't walk. He couldn't stand. His jaw was set so tightly his teeth grinded against each other. His body was so contracted his shoulders were swollen. Pressure sores covered his entire body. Drinking Ensure through a straw was the only way he could eat. But even that became a problem.
Chris began to choke on the Ensure we were serving him, putting him at risk for pneumonia. Our facility wasn't equipped to feed Chris intravenously, so the State Board told us that we had to find alternate placement for Chris, or stop feeding him meaning that he'd starve.
Until he died.
His family and I searched frantically for an open bed that could accommodate him, but many facilities refused to accept his insurance, thinking he'd die before they made enough to cover their expenses. I flatly told my superiors that I refused to watch him die due to lack of food and that I would feed him regardless of the consequences. I was told that if I fed him the facility would be forced to take action against me. I would not budge. We were at an impasse.
Thankfully, Chris' brother-in-law found a nursing home about 70 miles from Chris' hometown that would take him. The nursing home was small and understaffed, but at least it was an alternative to watching him die of starvation before my eyes.
As I packed his belongings in the van, Chris laid in a on his bed, his eyes watching my every move. I tried to explain to him that this was the best thing for him, but I didn't believe my own words.
The five and a half hour drive to the nursing home was the longest drive in my life. I knew that the next time I saw Chris, he would either be emaciated beyond recognition or worse, dead. As I drove, I sang all of the songs he enjoyed, and I could see him struggling to use his remaining energy to hum the theme to the "Tootsie Roll" song one more time.
We arrived at the home, and the orderlies helped me unload his things and check him in. I wheeled Chris down the hallway as we both took in this new environment. The walls were pea green and the floor tile had the faded look of a place built long ago. An old black and white television hung on the wall showing "Wheel Of Fortune."
I tried telling the orderlies about the way Chris laughed when someone told a joke, or how he liked to say that girls would get him in trouble. I told them how smart he was. They looked at Chris, and I could see them wondering how this desiccated shell of a man could be capable of the things I was describing. I realized that I was still remembering the person that he was, and not the person that he had become.
I stayed by his bedside longer than necessary, watchinghis eyes sizing up all these new faces. He seemed confused and scared, and I couldn't blame him. These people weren't his family. These people weren't the friends that he had known for the past 25 years. These people were strangers, and he was going to die here.
Alone.
I hugged him and lied through my teeth, telling him everything was going to be okay. He smiled at me.
That was the last time I saw him alive.
I cried as I got in my car, not wanting to look in the rearview mirror for fear that my guilt would make me go back into the nursing home and take him with me. Rain began to assault my windows as I drove home, and I thought briefly about pulling over but I couldn't take my foot from the pedal. I wanted to get as far away as quickly as I could. I kept driving.
When people tell me that their life is hard, or claim that something tragic happened to them, I think of Chris. I think of someone who never caused another living soul a second of grief, and all of the misery and suffering that was heaped upon his shoulders. And through it all, he still managed to smile.
Tragic, ain't it?
FIRST DRAFT WITH NOTES FROM EDITOR HANNIBAL TABU
Tragedy is defined in the dictionary as "an event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe" or "a play dealing with tragic events and having an unhappy ending, esp. one concerning the downfall of the main character." But in simpler terms, I think of tragedy as [ADDING QUOTES] "just some plain ol' messed up stuff."
Case in point: some years ago I worked [AT A MEDICAL FACILITY? NEEDS SPECIFICITY HERE] with a developmentally disabled man that I will call "Chris". [PUNCTUATION GOES INSIDE QUOTATIONS -- "CHRIS."] Chris was a friendly, intelligent guy ["INTELLIGENT" CLOUDS THE MESSAGE -- LOOK FOR SYNONYMS THAT ARE LESS POINTED, LIKE "KEEN" PERHAPS, OR "SENSIBLE" OR "REASONABLE" EVEN "COGNIZANT"] who loved singing songs from commercials and watching cartoons. He could read, write, and had graduated high school. He was also diagnosed as having schizophrenia.
His family had explained to me that Chris' schizophrenia hadn't revealed itself until his [LOWERCASE JUNIOR] Junior year in high school. Chris was completely "normal" and was even a member of the track team. Then, out of nowhere, he began hearing voices and having visions. The family, not knowing how to deal with his outbursts and hallucinations, sent him away to receive medical care.
When I began working at the facility, Chris greeted me by singing the theme from the "Tootsie Roll" candy commercial. You know, the one that goes, "Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a Tootsie Roll to me."
During the seven years that I worked with him, I never saw any signs of his schizophrenia. Of course, he had his bad days like everyone else, but his medication helped control the more difficult parts of his schizophrenia. I brought him to college parties with me, he visited with my family during the holidays, and I took him home to see his family several times. I looked forward to going to work, and he became more like a brother to me than a client.
Then things started to change.
Over a gradual period of time, I began to notice a change in Chris' demeanor. He began sweating profusely, and shaking uncontrollably [SAY WHEN, UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES]. Our nursing staff was drew blood, ran tests, but couldn't figure out what was wrong [MAYBE ADD AN IMAGE OF PUZZLED DOCTORS HERE]. Chris couldn't tell us, but obviously something was going horribly wrong.
I spoke with his family to give them an update [SCRATCH "GIVE THEM AN UPDATE," REPLACE WITH "UPDATE THEM" -- WORD ECONOMY, ALWAYS] on Chris' condition and they informed me [SCRATCH "THEY INFORMED ME," REPLACE WITH "LEARNED" -- AGAIN, WORD ECONOMY] that Chris' father was going through the exact same process ["GOING THROUGH THE EXACT SAME PROCESS" SEEMS CLUNKY A BIT. PERHAPS SOMETHING LIKE "SUFFERED THE SAME WAY" OR "HAD THE SAME PROBLEMS"]. As it turns out, [ADD "BOTH"] Chris and his father had Parkinson's disease.
Things began to deteriorate quickly for Chris [YOU CAN MAKE IT MORE PERSONAL BY SAYING "CHRIS DETERIORATED QUICKLY" -- PEOPLE MATTER MORE THAN THINGS]. He couldn't get food in his mouth because his hands shook all the food off of his utensils [CONSTRUCTION IS A BIT CLUNKY, PERHAPS TRY SOMETHING LIKE "HIS SHAKING HANDS FLUNG FOOD FROM FORKS" -- I LIKE ALLITERATION, YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY]. He couldn't get dressed because he would rip his clothes [CAN YOU ENHANCE THIS IMAGE? THIS SEEMS POWERFUL AS A DETAIL]. He couldn't even walk upright without assistance due to his leg muscles clenching up.
After only two months, Chris' appearance had changed drastically. He had [CUT "HAD" -- BAD VERB TENSE] lost close to 40 lbs, his hands had [CUT "HAD" -- BAD VERB TENSE] developed calluses from him holding his hands tightly, and there were sores covering his entire body ["... AND SORES COVERED HIS ENTIRE BODY" -- MORE IMMEDIATE]. We had to serve him Ensure with a straw just to maintain the remaining body weight that ["REMAINING BODY WEIGHT" ... CAN WE SAY THAT MORE CLEANLY? ALSO, CUT "THAT"] he had.
Chris began to aspirate the fluids we were serving him, putting him at risk for pneumonia ["ASPIRATE" IS TECHNICALLY CORRECT, BUT HARD FOR THE AVERAGE READER TO GRASP QUICKLY -- IS THERE ANOTHER TERM YOU COULD USE?]. Our facility was not [CONTRACTION -- "WASN'T"] equipped to feed Chris intravenously, so [THE FAMILY WAS, CUT "WERE"] were informed [CUT "INFORMED" REPLACE WITH "TOLD"] that we either had [CUT "THAT WE EITHER HAD"] to find alternate placement for Chris, or stopped feeding him completely [I KNOW THIS PART IS HARD TO WRITE, SO IT'S COOL, BUT YOU'RE GETTING SLOPPY ON THIS SENTENCE AT THE END. HOW ABOUT "OR THE FACILITY WOULD BE FORCED TO STOP FEEDING HIM, MEANING HE'D STARVE."].
[PARAGRAPH BREAK -- HITS WAY HARDER] Until he died.
His family and I searched frantically for an open bed in a facility that could accommodate him [CUT "IN A FACILITY THAT COULD ACCOMMODATE HIM" -- GOES WITHOUT SAYING, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU USE "FACILITY" AGAIN IN THE SAME SENTENCE], but many facilities refused to accept his insurance [WHY?]. A meeting was held and [CUT "A MEETING WAS HELD" -- SLOWS YOU DOWN] I flatly told my superiors that I refused to watch him die due to lack of food [CUT COMMA, SAME REASON], and that I would feed him regardless of the consequences. I was told that if I fed him the facility would be forced to take action against me. I would not budge. We were at an impasse.
Thankfully, Chris' brother-in-law found a nursing home about 70 miles from Chris' hometown that was willing to [REPLACE "WAS WILLING TO" WITH "WOULD"] take him. The nursing home was small and understaffed, but at least it was an alternative to watching him die of starvation before my eyes.
As I packed his belongings in the van, Chris laid in a on his bed, his eyes watching my every move. I tried to explain to him that this was the best thing for him, but I didn't believe my own words.
The five and a half hour drive to the nursing home was the longest drive in my life. I knew that the next time I saw Chris, he would either be emaciated beyond recognition or worse, dead. As I drove, I sang all of his favorite [REPLACE "HIS FAVORITE" WITH "THE"] songs that [CUT "THAT"] he enjoyed [PERIOD HERE, CUT "AND"], and I could see him struggling to use his remaining energy to hum the theme to the "Tootsie Roll" candy song [REMIX TO "TO HUM 'TOOTSIE ROLL' ONE MORE TIME" PERHAPS].
We arrived at the home ["WE GOT HIM THERE"], and the orderlies helped me unload his things and check him in. I tried telling the orderlies about the way he laughed when you told a joke, or how he like to say that girls would get him in trouble, and how smart he was.
They looked at Chris, and I could see their minds wondering how this desiccated shell of a man could be capable of the things I was describing. And [CUT "AND" -- ALMOST NEVER RIGHT TO START A SENTENCE WITH THAT] I realized that I was still seeing the person that he was, and not the person that he had become.
I stayed by his bedside for [CUT "FOR"] longer than necessary, as I could see his eyes sizing up all these new faces. He seemed confused and scared, and I couldn't blame him. These people weren't his family. These people weren't the friends that he had known for the past 25 years. These people were strangers, and he was going to die here.
[PARAGRAPH BREAK] Alone.
[PARAGRAPH BREAK] I hugged him and lied through my teeth, telling him everything was going to be okay. He smiled at me.
That was the last time I saw him alive.
I cried as I got in my car, not wanting to look in the rear view mirror for fear that my guilt would make me storm back into the nursing home and take him with me. It began to storm [JUST USED "STORM," MAYBE "RAIN BEGAN TO FALL"] as I drove home, and I thought about pulling over until it subsided, but I couldn't remove [REPLACE "REMOVE" WITH "TAKE"] my foot from the pedal. So on I drove ["SO" SLOWS YOU DOWN -- "I KEPT DRIVING" FEELS MORE REAL].
So [CUT "SO"] when people tell me that their life is hard, or that they've had something tragic happen to them ["... OR CLAIM SOMETHING TRAGIC HAPPENED TO THEM"], I think of Chris. I think of someone who never caused another living soul a second of grief, and all of the misery and suffering that was heaped upon his shoulders. And how [CUT "AND HOW"] through it all, he still managed to smile.
Tragic [ADD COMMA] ain't it?
NOTES:
Wow. That's ... wow.
Okay, the core story is powerful, and your approach is note perfect. Your tone, the way you talk about it, the clenched emotion filtered through your skill ... just perfect. At just under 1100 words too? Wow. Fantastic.
The only problems are those of craft now, and those are easy (relatively speaking). The words "that" and "so" and what not are your enemies. They hate you. You must hunt them down and destroy them. They hinder your forward momentum, as much as a clutch three pointer can ruin an 11-2 run. That's an easy tweak -- look for extra articles, conjunctions and what not and deport them from your work.
The second is a lack of sensory detail. More visuals, more smells, more textures. You do a good job of bringing people into this experience, but a smidgen more detail would make it a great job.
That's all I have. You don't have any idea how good you can be, Rumond. Keep at it.
What the heck is this assignment again?
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