annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Numb

No change - day 8 in the hospice - they started giving food through the PEG (feeding tube) again today, in case being hungry was making her uncomfortable. They say some people do 'plateau' like this - it can go on for a while, but they'll boot her out if it lasts too long as they 'don't have long stay facilities' whatever the fuck that means. They still say she will die, soon, but not today and probably not tomorrow or the day after. She is mostly peaceful, but not always. She seems to be pissed off with me, but maybe I imagine that. I don't know if she knows who I am. I'm not sure I know who I am. Maybe she's hanging on for her son's birthday, Jun 2nd.  His 18th. I don't know how anyone can live for eight days on nothing but water and morphine and still be looking like a little angel. I am numb. This has lasted so long and is unbearable but the only thing that will end it is worse. And in some way we have 'got used to it', or at least we aren't in a state of perpetual devastation and anguish, just intermittently.

And the people in the rooms around hers keep fucking dying. The nice woman I got into a chat with about kindles - gone. I don't know how people work there and stay sane. I don't know what I will be like when this is over. I am mostly calm now, with outbursts, but there is work to be done. I hug my other two children. I listen to them, and hug my grandson. I sit with my girl, my beautiful, precious darling.  Not much these last two days, because I had to go to acupuncture yesterday and art today and afterwards, on both days, I realised I needed some space on my own, so bunked off for a few hours. I went to the beach for a swim yesterday as it was blisteringly hot even half a mile inland but there was a chilly wind blowing in straight off the sea and the water was dead choppy so I just picked up some litter and went back to the hospice.

Today I went to art, safe in the knowledge that she'd still be alive when I got back (she was) and that I would probably explode or have a heart attack if I didn't find a way to switch off. There's a garden with beautiful irises outside ED's room - we push her bed out there, under a shady canopy:

and I've been painting them:

I might do loads. Or not.

I cannot believe this is happening, any of it. I mean, I knew it would, but not like this.

12:45 a.m. - 27.05.17

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next