My Lobotomy

No, I didn't get a Lobotomy...however, I was at Barnes and Nobel on Saturday afternoon and there was a whole table on books, mostly memoirs of people with mental illness. The girl who struggles with OCD through out High School, hmmm, sounds interesting, but then I picked up a book called "My Lobotomy." I read the back, it combined everything I love: Angst, Mental Illness, Redemption and NPR! NPR was involved in helping this man get information on what had happened to him, and bring his story to light. The victim of the lobotomy is young boy lobotomized (at 12) mostly coz his step Mom was psycho. He then recounts his difficult (an understatement) path to adulthood and reconciling with the bitter facts of his life and the decision's his family made that changed him forever. I started reading as soon as I got home. My husband was getting annoyed, because if I am reading, I am not paying attention to him, or more accurately "scratching him." My husband is one of those people. He needs your attention all the time, and he needs physical contact all the time, preferably in the form of me scratching him: his back, his head, and I am embarrassed to admit: his feet. I don't mind (that much), and I have grown to accept the fact that his will power and determination far out weigh mine....for instance:

The Man: Scratch my feet
Me: No
The Man: Come one, scratch my feet
Me: No

Multiply this time 700 billion, I always cave in just so he will shut up.

Sunday afternoon: I am almost done with my book-

The Man: What are you reading?
Me: I book about a kid who got a Lobotomy
The Man: Why would you read that, it sounds horrible!
Me: Oh, it's sickening, terrible the worst thing I have ever heard!
The Man: Your sick- why do you always read about such horrible things.
Me: It's interesting, besides maybe I can find someone to perform a lobotomy on you, and then I could make you scratch MY FEET!