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Thursday, August 6, 2009

Late Wednesday nite, early Thursday morning

This night is long and this day was really hard.

I spent the afternoon with a lawyer, finishing my will, because if something were to happen to me, I have to make plans for Liana. I feel relieved to have it done, but not glad of the reasons I had to do it. Inside my head I'm screaming, because I don't want to be doing all of this stuff. I don't want to make all these plans for Jim dying. I don't want to worry about money, and houses, and office buildings, and lawyers and executors, and funerals and graves,and medicine, and pain, and, and, and, and....................................

I keep telling people, "I seem calm, but on the inside I'm not." And I keep asking people "am I making sense?" "Does this seem like clear thinking?" I ask because my thought processes seem to be sound, but I know at times they are not sound at all, because I ACHE with hurt and confusion and anger, and how can sound judgement come out of such misery.

During the day I can appreciate the good things that are around me, but at night when it's dark, it's hard to stay positive. Jim struggles with discomfort and his own demons at night, and sometimes we are struggling in the same direction and other times we are fighting our own battles. That's why I got up tonight because there was no peace in bed tonight, just lots of tossing and turning. Many nights the struggles in darkness make us comrades in arms, but not tonight.

Jim's friend Barry brought his family up to eat at Wings yesterday, and remarked to me that Jim looked more frail than when he had seen him two weeks ago. Jim is continuing to lose weight, and we struggle to find any kind of food that appeals to him. Nighttime nausea is constant, and weakness is becoming more and more obvious.

He is now working about two or three hours a day at Wings West, whereas four weeks ago, he was working relatively normal business hours. His sister and I have decided that going to work makes him feel better, it's been such a part of his life for 40 plus years, that not going to work is tantamount to giving up. At this point, anything he wants to do, he can do. I would like him to spend more time with Lily and me, but as his sister said to me yesterday "I guess the dying person gets to make the choice." She's right.

I continue to appreciate your emails, kind words, prayer, and strength that surrounds me even in these dark nights. As always, I am sending my love and thanks to all of you.


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