A long weekend

I miss him so much. I spent yesterday working towards getting our Kingdom ready for winter. Admittedly Chris and Alicia did the Lion's share of the physical work. It's difficult to do all the things that we would normally do together without him here. I wanted to get angry that Chris had to move a dozen wheelbarrows of mulch because once again we got a late start on the mulch because every year he orders it too late. I wanted to get angry about that. I wanted to call someone with a back hoe and have them rip up the entire backyard so I wouldn't have to look at the weeds that have overtaken the gardens, died, droop and claim a head start on next spring. I took down the finch feeders and cleaned them, but I don't have the strength or energy to take down the big feeders and clean them.

I can't even begin to deal with the rest of the work--the overgrown paths, weeds, grasses, broken fence and general chaos. I did manage to reset the timers on the outdoor lights. Whoopty-doo.

I went in early to seem him today so I could get back to work at home by noon. He tries so hard to be cheerful when he sees me. Today it seemed like a real effort for him. Yesterday they drained a liter of fluid from his right lung and sent it for biopsy. On a holiday weekend that just gives him longer to worry. Then again, I think he's past worry. Past caring.

I curled into bed beside him and tried to accept the silence of nothing to say. I wanted desperately to hear him talk to me, but I realized he's at a point where he's too weary to make small talk, too pissed to pretend, and in no damn mood to discuss the obvious. I think you reach a point where silence is preferable to platitudes. Still I could feel the tension and finally I opened a door with.... "feel like talking?"

"No."

I waited longer than I thought possible and then all I could come up with was "wow. It SUCKS to be you." He laughed. When he hugged me I sensed he was grateful I had offered nothing other than validation. I no longer tell him "it's going to be okay; you're going to get through this; blah, blah, blah." What I believe no longer matters. He's worn out and frustrated and more than a little scared and he just doesn't need anyone who's not receiving eight injections a day of molten lava to tell him shit about anything.

One of the doctors was in this morning and the new plan is that he will have a large protein snack between 10 and 11 pm and then we'll set the alarm and do another huge snack between 3 and 4 am. I told Rich that if he promises to do the nighttime feeding, I'll do the 4 am feeding.

Even so, we still don't know if this is going to work. He still dropped too low a couple of times in the night. I think the doctors are finally understanding that I can't take him home like this. I'm terrified. They're still waiting for call backs from all the specialists they've called and during a four-day holiday weekend, I'm not holding my breath.

Then Kenny J (20 mos old) came to visit with his Mum, Dad and sister-in-waiting. He was in a mood that perfectly mirrored Rich's--not quite cranky, not full out fussy, just in no mood for anyone's attempt at any level of bullshit in order to move him from the emotional mud puddle he was currently inhabiting. I learned much from my grandson today. Gradually he came around and I wish I had video of him sitting on the bed beside his Grandpa Rich, sharing his lunch tray. Good Stuff.

I'm tired. Keeping an eye on a two day old spider bite on my right arm that's getting a bit ugly. Wishing I had more energy and time for all the things I want and need to get done. Wish I knew something, anything, I could do to make any of this a bit easier for Rich. Best just go to bed so I can start again tomorrow.

"There'll be the evening in the end....till that time arrives,
you can rest your eyes, and begin again"............Cat Stephens