Personal Journal

Time blends like the colors of sunset

I slept for four hours from 7 p.m. to 11. I had expected Amy, our vet friend, to show up around 8:45, but she didn't, and she didn't call. I'm a bit disappointed - she should have called, though if she had I'd have been woken up and that would have sucked. I haven't slept much, and three times when I tried in the daytime, the phone fucking rang. But four hours in a sitting is a pretty good run, and Im wide awake right now.

Amy will be over in the morning (hopefully) so I can get out and do some shit. Stuff. No time to start cussing now. Maybe that's why she didn't come tonight. But I was planning on waiting till she got here to wash jean up real well, and now I'm going to wait until tomorrow when the nurses are around. I feel guilty about that, but it's an ordeal to do alone. I can do it and I have, but today I thought I'd postpone it 24 hours without Amy.

Jean's pain was bad last night. Four doses of morphine. But tonight, so far, none. Her pain comes on at night, which I don't understand. She has hot flashes. Her brain stem is being affected and she loses the ability to regulate her body's temperature.

I stand corrected on pain tonight. She just needed a dose of morphine, and from my notes, I guess I gave her some earlier, before I fell asleep. Time blends. I know what day it is, but I am never really sure what I did when. Did I move her last at 3 a.m. or 2 a.m.? Did she eat cereal two days ago, or three?

Today wasn't good for her. She was gone all day. I want this to move forward. I want her to be ready to go. I think she might be waiting - maybe her brother will be coming out this weekend. Her body isn't showing signs of imminent collapse, though. But perhaps it won't. This is all going to come down to the brain stem - as it suffers, so shall she. I don't want her to linger, both for selfish reasons and of course, for her.

Jean would not want to live this way. And when her body stops breathing, it will be a relief and a release for many of us.

I had to call her New Jersey friends today; well I called one. Josephine (aka pepper for some reason). I'd met her twice, and I felt close to her immediately. Great woman.

It must be harder for the others than it is for me. They don't see her. They don't see the slow degredation that I did. Those ... what did I call it a few weeks ago... when I referred to it like a child growing taller. Those four inches, wasn't it?

People want to talk to her on the phone, and that's not possible. I don't know what else to say...