I was reading a post by CuriousC about a book she’s just finished reading entitled The Diving-Bell & The Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby - and her post inspired me to read the book again (I initially read it is 1998 when it was first published in paperback). The diving-bell of Bauby’s title is his corporeal trap, the butterfly his imagination.
“After suffering a massive stroke, Jean-Dominique Bauby, editor-in-chief of French Elle and father of two young children, found himself completely paralysed, speechless and only able to to move one eyelid. With his eyelid he “dictated” this remarkable book.”
What this book encourages you to do is look with fresh eyes on life. As Edmund White says: “read this book and fall back in love with life.”
Jean-D was paralysed but what he says in the prologue is something I’ve often thought applies to old age as well as extreme disability. You see, there is a remarkable similarity between being severely disabled and being old, summed up by Jean-D when he says of his father:
“We are both locked in cases, each in his own way; myself in my carcass, my father in his fourth floor apartment” (he can no longer descend the magnificent staircase of his apartment building on his ninety two year old legs). (page 52)
But all is not lost, since as Jean-D says:
“My mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas’s court. You can visit the woman you love, slide down beside her and stroke her still sleeping face. You can build castles in Spain, steal the Golden fleece, discover Atlantis, realise your childhood dreams and adult ambitions” (page 13) - all in your imagination and recall of past memories.
It is of no surprise that his elderly father recognised his son’s plight and knew the answer - dip into the past. When you’re old there is a lot of past to dip in to after all. Free yourself up for travel in the mind.
Jean-D says of his father: “He also sent me the photo of me at the miniature golf course. At first I did not understand why. It would have remained a mystery if someone had not thought to look at the back of the print. Suddenly, in my own personal movie theatre, the forgotten footage of a Spring weekend began to unroll, when my parents and I had gone to take the air in a windy and not very sparkling seaside town. Dad had simply noted: Berck-sur-Mer, April 1963.” (page 53)
So when I visit my dear old grandfather (age 99 years & 7 months old) and ask him what he’s been up to this week and he says, “pony trekking in Corfu” or “walking alongside the Thames with my sweetheart” - I understand. He’s not mad or doo-lalley, he hasn’t finally succumbed to dementia or even taken temporary leave of his senses - he’s just taken a small vacation down memory lane, which is a very pleasant place to visit.
Today? I am not working and so will enjoy creating some new and wonderful memories for my old age. I will seize this day.
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