Building With Discarded Stones

I was Donald’s roommate when I first came to the community. He warmly and graciously welcomed me and helped to orient me to the rhythm and routines of the house. He rearranged his belongings so that I could unpack the few items I had brought with me. I slept on a mattress on the floor of his bedroom and, since I was also crazy about sports, we had many long conversations and some debates. For me, all the teams from my home state of Wisconsin were the best. On his laundry day, Donald was able to wash, dry, fold and put away his clothing with no assistance except perhaps a reminder or two. With so many tasks he functioned independently, even those he strongly preferred to not bother with. He could get around the neighborhood on his own, go to the store for simple purchases and was proud to be entrusted with little responsibilities for the house. He was aware that he could do things that others in the community couldn’t, but he didn’t show off or try to show anyone up. Donald’s birthday was in autumn and he always was tuned to its approach many weeks in advance. He loved the attention and expounded in fine detail about the gifts, the cards, the special meal, the rich, frosting-smothered cake that were sure to come. I had arrived in the community at just the right moment to enter into the preparations for his party. Being new I mostly tried to stay out of other people’s way and do some of the simple chores around the house to free up those who knew better what needed to be done to make for a joyous celebration. As the weeks of anticipation passed, something very odd began to gradually unfold. Donald, in minute, nearly unnoticeable ways, was changing. It was as if he had slipped into a slow-motion mode. Usually very efficient with his morning routine, he was spending longer and longer to get himself washed and dressed. Spots of blood began to appear somewhat regularly on his face as if he had cut himself while shaving. But Donald used an electric razor. His physical tremors, before scarcely visible, became more pronounced. It came to a point where he shook so forcefully that he could no longer hold a cup of water without sloshing all over. What was happening?