To just watch is a
wrenching experience. I have to
leave the room for hours at a time. She's just
hanging on 'cause that's the way she's
wired. But I know that
letting go would be so easy, so easy for her.
When the pain shoots into her, there's a fear that it might be so intense that it would shake the room. But it always subsides when the medicine kicks in.
She can see what's ahead. I can tell by her eyes that there is a glimmer of what we can look forward to, one and all. But she won't admit it or talk about it.
That bed is so wet with the sweat of pain and exhaustion. But I can't wash the sheets until it's over.