Doves Cry

I am angry.

I don't know if this is a passing thing, a "phase" as it were, or if this is my new state of being.

I have a small cold. I'm not certain how my low grade fever is effecting me.



I am angry.
I am angry there is no space for me.
I am angry there is no safe place for me to talk, to someone.
I am angry that Hospice has to be considered part of the "safety net".

I am angry at my friends, the people I love. I am angry and love them at the same time. It's a painful contradictory feeling.
I am angry at life. I am angry at the inherent unfairness. Of it all.

I am angry that every week I see more friends have birthdays that place them at or right next to my age.
I am angry that every week now someone new is engaged, married, or pregnant. In about 6 months I suppose I'll be angry at all the births around his death date.

I am angry at myself and society. I am angry that I will never be pregnant again. That I will never carry life, that my husband will never live on. That I have no more family with his death. He was my family unit, and now it is singular, and I'm angry that I had so little time with him.
I am angry at the milestones I have and will miss.

I am so angry at society for telling me I am worthless if I do not reproduce.

I am angry at society for telling me I am worthless for being poor. I am angry when people say it is my own fault, my own choices. I am angry when someone implies Wash wanted or asked for terminal brain cancer. 

I am angry at myself because I cannot be fully happy for my friends.
I am angry at comments about couples trying to get pregnant for under 6 months, and how upset/sad/frustrated they are. I am angry when those same people then immediately get pregnant.

I am angry that I have no one to talk to.

I am angry at my best friend for dying, for leaving me. I am angry at myself for that very thought. For not being happy he is not in pain, like he wished.


I am angry when I stare at his TARDIS urn every day and night and wonder if anyone else remembers him?

I am angry that he died before so many wonderful things.
I am angry he will never see the Doctor Who 50th Anni. special. Or be part of it in some way, which he would have; if he had not had the cancer and was still alive.

I am angry at being told I have to change so many things.
I am angry that so many things will change and have regardless.

I am angry that I can remember the last hug I had from him, that I remember it was the last.

I am angry that I have to live a future without him. I am angry that I wake up every morning, and he does not, will not.

I am angry and it feels like a hot weighted stone upon my heart.

I am angry that I feel so utterly useless.
I am angry how disposable I feel. I am angry at the daily implication that my existence is worthless- or worse, costing of others.

I am angry, and so sad.

Hard Words

It's been a while since I've felt comfortable enough, or had the precise words to explain what is going on in my life past the physical details. [Foot not fully broken/fractured, still fraked up for a few weeks.]

Births, marriages, engagements, deaths- too many, pregnancies, jobs, new locations.
This is the excitement and progress of my friends and family.

I am happy for them. I have far more hope for any of them than I hold for myself.

Roger Ebert in one of the short notes he sent to me said that it was alright to write about the horrid parts of life. The nasty parts of cancer not shown in those films with a happy ending. It is ok to share the utter desperation, the desires, the lowering of one's self on the chance for mercy from a world that holds no "fairness".
"Truth is not always a happy ending." R.E.

How very true.


This post might hurt. It hurts to write, and I'm sure for some it will hurt to read. Cancer and dying hurts too. Living and knowing the one person you loved, who loved you back, is gone and will never ever come back- hurts.

"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." - W. Goldman [The Princess Bride]

When we got married slightly to this theme, that quote meant something so different to me. Wash inscribed my wedding band with "As You Wish" on it.
It's quite amazing how much foreshadowing our relationship has without either of us really picking up on it. I had him nicknamed "Wash" within weeks of us dating. We both knew what happened to Hoban in "Serenity".


I am not "stuck". I am however, mad lately. I'm mad that people around me who have not felt this pain feel it is appropriate to tell me how to deal with my pain. I'm mad that they think there is some magic number of weeks, months, or time that can pass before I should be where they want.
I'm mad that people want the Tashi "back" that does not exist anymore.
She's gone just as surely as her Wash. Never coming back.
I think that acceptance is slowly happening.

I'm mad at myself for hurting at someone else's happiness. I am utterly confused at how it is possible for me to feel so happy to see friends get married, or have a child, or get hired at their dream career, or become pregnant- and so mad at my own life for being deprived of that.
I had 4-6 weeks of marriage before the cancer began to grow in his brain.
Twice we almost stayed pregnant. Twice we both held onto Hope that in some way (biologically at the very least) Wash could continue on. Twice it ended in blood, pain, and tears.
Leto the cat is now the only living part of Wash I still have, or can hold.

I find less and less to talk about, socially. I have little I can relate to with my peers.
The Widow's support group is also made up of people in pain like me, but all so much older. All who had time or a chance at a life with the one they loved. They had children, reasons to wake in the morning and function. They had homes they built up together that they could get comfort from. Years, sometimes decades of memories to hold on to. To recall. To soothe.

I am mad at the people who suggest that because I was "only" married for a short time that I can/could/should "move on" now. That 6 months is enough time to "heal".
I am mad at those who imply I will have or find love again. I had it once. I found him once. I gave my heart and soul once. Who are they to know my intentions? Who besides my own self should say if I even desire to love again?

I am at the age where so many of my peers are married, engaged, pregnant, or having children. Over and over I see milestones I wanted to have myself, and cannot.
I will never have a new birthday card from my husband again. I'll never hear him sing to me that I'm his "Queen of Argyle".

I have pain. I have sorrow. I have tears. I have little Hope to share.
I have a large space to carry pain, to support others. Some days I wake as Atlas, carrying the weight of the world upon myself, and not questioning why I do this. Why I carry this burden.

I am hurt that Cancer keeps stealing people we love. I am tired of this. I am 26 and so tired.
I carry Hope, but it is not a weightless burden.

Hope is painful. Hope does not protect the heart. Or the brain. Hope is irrational, one of the confusing parts of being human I am still trying to comprehend.

When I began this written record I chose "Learning to Hope" in the sense of Hope for my Wash. For his future, for his fight, for us. Now, I think the Hope is for me. How to keep wanting to Hope, when I know so well how much it can hurt. How the nights are spent either awake, afraid of the silence and dark, or sleeping restlessly in a dream of chasing someone I can never catch.
Hope that someday life will become desirable, not just passive, waiting for the moment I breathe out but not in.
How do I continue on, when I still hear him in my head? When I can still read his stories and words? See the world from his eye in his photographs.

He is gone but save a digital footprint of his existence.

And, yet.
Yet...

He is the Gaius to my Six.
Whispering in my ears. Touching my hair. Standing in his kilt. Kissing my neck. He lives in me, in my brain, in the memories he shared and gave to me to hold. I cannot begin to imagine how one can "get over" that.


This is my pain. My grief. My anger. My sadness. My soulmate. My timeline.
My life and future to mourn.


Yes, I still hurt. I can smile, but I ache.
I feel a need to hide away from the happy world. From the lives others are living. I am not living. I exist right now.


Is this the trade-off? Is this the start of my re-payment? A karmic debt I owe?
Is this the price of love? Of the short, but fully complete happiness I once had?

I think I am still too young to say that for certainty. I think I am not omnipotent enough to say that for certainty.

If this pain is the start of the price I now pay, I owe.
I owe this pain, and I own it.

I gave my self and my heart up to him. I willingly gave it. I gave him everything I could.
From 2008-2012 I had his love in return. I had him. I had unconditional love for all of me. I had more than a friend. I had more than a lover. I truly knew Hope, in a painless sense, then.
I had his love.

If this pain is my price, it is mine.
I would do it all over again, in a hummingbird's heartbeat. Knowing the pain, the tears, the sadness, the blood, the loss. I would do it again.
He was worth it. 4 years, or 40 seconds. His love was worth it.
It does not ease the pain, does not put a balm on my wounds, but it is the truth.
I would put myself through every bit of this pain again, for him.


I can wish my story had a happy ending. I can wish it was a different type of cancer, a different disease, a life of health. I can write that we struggled, but overcame and lived happy forever until we both died on the same day, decades after our marriage. I can write we had children, and grandchildren. I can write we both had perfect dream lives.
But I write truth here, not fiction.

There is no "happy ending" in my life. My love story is a tragedy, not a happily ended romance.



Photo is from approx 2004-06 from Wash's Speech Black Book. [Speech and Debators will know this.]
This is his opening selection from "Will the Circle be Unbroken" by Studs Terkel that he used in an Oratory or Dramatic piece.

Brave (2)

I tried to fall back asleep this morning. No go.

It's one week til Wash's memorial.
I'm not doing well.

There are so many things going on all at the same time. I feel I am coming untethered.

I am terrified of trying to write something about him with that level of finality. I was not afford the luxury of denial like others around him were.
This is, certain.
Final.

It breaks what is left of my heart.



The cats keep me company in the bed most nights. Either Aelphie takes her place by my feet, or Leto comes over and sleeps on top of me. The tend to switch off.
I wake up everyday with this sense of "wrong". Something is off. Not as it should be.

I remember how we used to fall asleep together. How we would cuddle. How some nights it would be me holding him until he fell asleep, and a long long time ago, he used to hold me.
I remember the first winter we had together; he was working night-shift and in school. We hardly ever saw each other during the week. Except for 30 minutes in the mornings when he would come home from work, waking me up to the smell of coffee, which he'd always bring me a fresh cup.
He'd climb into bed and for 30 minutes the world did not exist. It was just us. Our time.
I miss the spot I'd kiss behind his ear, right above his neck.
I miss his smell. I miss that so much.
I miss his comfort.

I've had people, strangers and friends tell me how "brave" I've been. I thank them, but I don't understand it at all.
Is it really "brave" when there is only one direction to go? One way to move?
I have to go on, because what else can I really do? I don't see other choices, options.


I am happy to have friends coming in to help me say "goodbye" to him.
I know that lives don't stop. Well, only mine, and to a literal degree, him.

I miss the normalcy.
I miss Family Tuesday Dinners. Those started long before Wash, and it was the one day a week I knew I could see someone who knew my name, who would hug me, where I could just be me.
Those stopped.
I can understand. It's painful. Too busy. Out of town.

I am left though, with this feeling of being attached to nothing. I feel this greater distance with my own family than I have ever known.
Quite like a balloon. I had been tied for so many years, able to float out a bit, and now, un-cut, I am loose. I am going higher and farther than ever before. Than I ever imagined there to be.
The problem though, is the inevitable.
Balloons don't stay up forever. We all know.
Eventually, they pop. They burst, high and in a different place.

More and more I keep wondering why I am still here, in this place. What besides him was keeping me here?

I wonder if this is temporary, or if I have lost hope for Arizona?


I am scared for another reason. Well, many. I've been scared a long time, it's just easier to ignore the fears when there is someone else who needs comfort.


I wish I had known how few choices I would have had, before.
This will by my first Hannukah alone. My parents leave again the day after Wash's service.
At this point, I no longer even see a point in putting up my yearly little tree. I love the lights, but, it feels like I already know I'll be alone at the end of the month.

This is part of it. Everyone moves on. It's been almost 3 months! I mean, sure, he was my husband and the person I was intending to spend my life with, have children with, move with, be happy with, and my best friend. But, no, yeah, under 3 months is fine. Move on. Do we just stop saying his name next year?
I really am upset no one gave me this time-table for "acceptable" grief ahead of time.
I'm still back in the days of Judith Martin, apparently.
I'm guessing since this 'new' timeline for grief is something I'm really not familiar with; being of the impression I could go at my own emotional speed, could someone send me a link?

That last part was a bit sarcastic.

I cried myself to sleep this morning trying so hard to remember if I held him til he fell asleep that Saturday night. I cannot remember. I know I was with him, I was next to him, but I can't even remember if I held him.

I am scared of next week. I'm scared of who might show up. I'm scared my anger towards some people and how they acted towards Wash will not have passed fully if I see them. I'm scared that I cannot yet say that,
"I forgive you for hurting him so much while he was dying."
I was hurt too, to be sure. In a heinous and vicious way. But, people have hated me for a long time. I'm kind of used to it.
I know what was done to him, though.
I know exactly how many nights he cried himself to sleep over this.
I know how many tears, how much pain, and worse, how he could not even understand it. Part of that was the cancer, but a bigger part was just the shock and the pain of who it was coming from.

So much pain and sadness.

How do I say good-bye to my best friend?
The person I loved heart, body, mind, past and future.
I wish, I wish I knew.

TARDoor Returns!

When we first moved into our (my?) current home, pretty much the first thing my husband noticed was our door that was almost the same colour and shape as the TARDIS.

He asked a few times if he could put up a TARDIS sign. We did not have time the first Halloween, we were still moving in.
The second one, we were both in the hospital; I pretty much lived there for the couple weeks Wash was in there.
The third, he started to get back to the TARDoor idea again.

So, we started to turn our door/home into a TARDIS on Halloween. Traditions begin! [Occasionally on Christmas or Boxing Day as well]

He was SO PROUD of how it came out. He spent about 2 hours on the windows alone. Wanted to make sure they were "perfect". The architect in him.

This year, I was planning to just hide out with a good scary movie. We do not get too many kids on our street, and there are none living in the complex currently.

However, as I got on with my day, I started to feel like something more than just Wash was missing.

I did not spend as much time as he did on perfecting the location of everything, but I did my best.
Tonight, I will watch "Blink" and the other Weeping Angels episodes while I paint and wait for any kids to come by. It's also a good night for "Zombieland" and "Hot Fuzz". It's Tim Dalton!
I am still feeling pretty down, between some miscommunications with family members, some well meaning people trying to give me perspective but in a real badly phrased way, and just missing the fuck out of Wash. He loved Halloween. I might post pics of his old costumes tomorrow.
I hate money issues.
I hate having no credit. I hated to have to find money to pay upfront and in full for his cremation and death papers, and I've hated that after 7 weeks I still have not received a cent from the $225.00 Death Benefits I am entitled to as his spouse. Which is not even 1/3 the cost of what I had to pay.
I have tried to let a lot of my anger and hatred go, and to some extent, it has worked. To another, there is still a lot of anger to people who are now no longer in my life at all.

Back to topic. Apologies, Dear Reader, this is my life. Mid thought of anything, and thoughts of Wash or his end will come into my mind. Always.

So I spent a little time today bringing back out the TARDoor.
I don't think/know if we have any Doctor Who fans in the complex, I guess tonight I will find out.
One of the frat brothers who lives close to me is splitting a pumpkin pie with me tonight.
Minutes seem like hours, and then 4 hours will pass in just a few blinks to me.

This is *my* TARDoor. I suppose there is always a chance I might open it tonight and find my TimeLord.

Breaking Silence

I feel a need for honesty; though my friends know with me that is never really a problem.

Yesterday my husband's family had a memorial service in his name.
I did not attend.
Technically yes, I was invited; when my mail/invitation came Saturday AFTER the service in a different State was over.

I am Wash's next of kin, and his executor. I am his widow.
I heard him every day for 3 years describe in great detail his ideal Memorial Service.
I am working hard to make that happen for him on December 8, 2012, again, in the Winter, as he requested before his death.

I am truly sorry to those who may have been deceived by others, but he did want and had Willed me to take control of the details.

The love of my life, my soulmate, my husband died less than 6 weeks ago.

Please keep it civil. I will be moderating comments on this post.

Wash had asked me not to write about his parents' or his issues with them until after his death.

I complied. 

Updates

Short update, I'm hoping to be back to write this afternoon.

It's rained twice this week! Not enough though to save my garden; only some of my wild Basil is still alive. It's been too hot, too sunny since we lost a neighbour's shade tree, and with my broken feet I have not been able to get out to water it myself.

Sad.

I'm not sure if it's relate to the weather, but Wash's pain has been increasing almost every day now. It really started to get bad about two weeks ago and now it's every hour or two that he needs meds to keep him going.

When he's not in pain, he's able to enjoy reading his LEGO building books (thank you Mark and Dayna) or to build/play with his LEGO sets.

He's been watching some older series too, things he says he can't remember anymore. His short term memory is declining as well. He needs a lot more help with the little daily things, and many many more reminders.

I have to be patient with him, and I'm not always. I could be better.

My foot is still quite sore and bruised from falling again this week. Gorram cats. I don't think I broke anything new; there's no new swelling. I'm getting another x-ray in about two weeks, so unless it gets worse I'll just wait. I'm trying to keep off it as much as I can and DAS BOOT it up if I have to stand or move about.

We had another Eval or two and Wash has gotten to the point where we will have a daily Aide coming over now to help. As of this month (or, the next 2-4 weeks unless it needs to change) we'll have an aide here now daily for 3-4 hours. That will help with some of the daily house needs, at least one meal that someone else can prep for him, and give me some time every single day to rest myself, a novel concept.

Wash also gave the "It's not you, it's me" speech to the (awful) Medical Social Worker. Hopefully we can get a new one (been trying for months) but at the very very least the MSW is aware now that we need someone who can take or return our calls, doesn't take vacation days in the middle of the week or take holidays without telling the clients (us), listens to Wash etc. Tried to be clear that it was not a "you are at fault" situation, but more that the MSW is not meeting Wash's NEEDS, and we need someone who can.

I am hopeful at this point.

The MSW is also working on a grief counselor for Wash too. He really needs to talk to someone, he's so scared of the next phase to come.

Let's see. Our main school in the big tank of danios is down to 2 males. We had 6 one day and one died. I took the dead one out and the next day instead of 4 fish, there were only 2. I never recovered the other bodies. Cannibal fish or a smart wet-pawed Leto, methinks.

However, before the massive die off, I did recover some fry. We have 3 fry in the baby tank now slowly growing into big fish! Can't tell their colours yet, but they will develop as they grow.

My mum helped out a bunch this week and did errands for me, so we have groceries and mail and bills paid. Hurrah! (Step) Dad made Shepherd's pie for Tuesday Dinner night this week; the leftovers might make it to tomorrow even! It's so good it rarely makes it more than a few days before someone in this house eats the leftovers.

Wash and I continue to thank everyone who keeps sending in Lego sets. He plays and builds them. Speaking of thanks, I need to get to work on his birthday thank you notes. Obviously he cannot do them anymore, so it's just another task that falls to me.

I can't even recall what else I wanted to write about. I've been trying to get some of my own rest and recovery in, and doing a lot of watching him and trying to treat his pain. Some days/nights he refuses his medication; sometimes just a couple hours, sometimes longer. He just gets so agitated and then confused and his confusion blocks him from being able to take meds, or calm down.

Brain cancer is pretty fucking awful.

I'll have more later. We're both still here, still alive.

Both reached for the

I have a hairline fracture on my left foot; right along the line where I have broken the toe before.

I think if I had not broken it in the past, it might have just been a bad sprain.

So, I'm supposed to stay off the foot as much as I can, no taping it- still too swollen, but ice and elevation.

3 weeks of a cane or crutches and it should be fully healed 6-8 weeks.

Thank you to everyone who is sending us love, postcards, and (for Wash) LEGO sets. He LOVES them. (Thank you!!)

He's playing with them now, much calmer and happier.

Last night was something truly terrible. This week has been a challenge for him. From the cat incident, to the falls. He just got SO ANGRY that the people around him can't "cure" him. That he won't get better. This is in his brain.

Seemed to just hit him all at once, and he just overloaded with anger and sadness and depression.

He would not take his medicine. He would not calm down, he was restless.

Said I needed to keep the cats upstairs because he did not trust himself around them or me.

We slept apart. It doesn't happen often in our marriage.

Hospice said I had to try to respect his wishes as a patient, because he was so clear and mentally present at the time, to be alone. To let him be downstairs without me watching him. He has a right to not be "safe". It's a hard thing for me to get used to, but they are right.

It was not easy to sleep without him by, wondering and worrying.

He was better in the morning. He wrote some last night, and also yelled for about 2 hours while he was downstairs. I have no idea if he was conscious he was speaking aloud, let alone yelling.

I got my X-rays this morning, he had S. as his aide/caregiver. Also gave me a chance to get by the post office to pick up some nice Star Wars LEGO sets that were sent to him. He will offer up to the nurses, "I know I'm regressing, but it makes me happy, and they're just so FUN." At this time I'm not worried about him choking on a piece, so I don't mind a million pieces around the house because he enjoys being able to still create and control in his little LEGO-land.

He needs that, and I'm glad I have the help to give it to him.

I do have a script for painkillers for the next little while that my foot feels frakkin' awful. I apologize if this later makes no linear sense.

We're going to watch "Treasure Planet" tonight, Wash has actually asked me. Like he's taking me on a "home date". I'm going to do my best to stuff down my emotions and show him I'm enjoying it, even if I'm in pain. He doesn't really understand anymore that other people hurt and feel physically and emotionally. It's all about him, all the time. That's ok. That's brain cancer.

But, he won't understand and doesn't understand when I tell him "No, that hurts me."

So, I have to smile tonight for him, because he needs some love and a memory of a smiling wife.

Rise above the pain to give him that.

It rained last night. I had a hibiscus blooming this morning. I hope it helps the tomatoes and the watermelon plant. It will be a little bit before I can water my own garden again.

Make your own Fate

BRAVE- EHRMEGAWD.

Holy crap, my eyes, my brain, my memories of my relatives singing Scots Gallic to me...!
It.Was.Awesome.

Now, in the theatre, we bought tickets to a show so we could get there early, and I was even the first in line to go into the theatre. We get the BEST seats (very back row, directly under the projector) and the kiddos and parents start coming in. No problem at ALL, until the previews start and a couple who came in 10 mins after the showtime decided to sit RIGHTNEXTTOME.
Nope.
"Are these seats saved?"
"Yes, for the people who came on time." Says I.
"No, really, are you saving these seats?"
"That one at the far end of the row is free."
"But, we want to sit here, and there's two seats."
Tashi says LOUDLY [during the previews!] "Fine, you two late comers who disturbed this whole row of people instead of sitting in the empty seats at the bottom of the theatre can sit here. Maybe next time if you arrive ON TIME you won't have a seating issue."

Yes, I told them off. No one in the theatre came to their aid.
Also, out of 3-400 seats, at least half filled with children, there was ONE, one kid- a little girl maybe 4-5 who was chatting at the movie the entire time. Every thing- "Oh mommy, look, treats! Mommy, the Queen! Mommy, she forgot!" etc. The WHOLE movie. Several other parents asked them to quiet, they did not. In fact, the mother was ENGAGING her child, "She did forget, good job!". 300 kids all behaving, but that ONE.

So, I remember why I hate seeing movies, but I also finally saw "The Hobbit" preview, so I know I'll be going to the midnight premiere of that.
[I got two free passes, but they won't work for "Brave"- no new releases.]

Also, I'm pretty sure I was the only person in that audience who could understand Gallic and the brogue one of the Clansmen had.

Wash did not attend the movie- he could not be mature enough today to handle it. I'll try to take him on a weekday, hopefully when there are less kids and other audience/distractions around. He ended up playing with P. the Hospice volunteer, and they played with Wash's LEGOS and KREOS and apparently built Starscream this afternoon. So, he'll see it soon, but I was glad for the chance to watch and really enjoy the movie myself, without having to watch Wash watch the movie and deal with him on top.

He's a lot calmer after getting some time away from me as well; this morning he was really angry with himself, which he took out on me. It was needed for both of us to get that break.

A long day, but a good one. I even ran into some old friends who've moved away, but are back visiting. Hopefully we'll have a chance to have them meet up with Wash again before they leave.

-I plan on playing with my Merida doll tonight.

Epinephrine

So, one of the downsides of Wash's brain cancer is that every once in a while he hallucinates. Sometimes it is visual, sometimes auditory.

This means that often Wash will ask me to verify if he is hearing/seeing something correct. This also means he will wake me up randomly in the night to ask if I heard the "sound" he did. That's a bucket of fun.

But, sometimes he's not hallucinating.

So, for a day he heard buzzing in our kitchen. I said it was probably one of many things we have plugged in and the motor is making a sound. I was wrong! The next day we both saw 3-4 flying things in the light fixture in the kitchen. Since I will die if stung, I freaked the fuck out and ran outside. We called for backup and Andy* came by and he and Wash fought a brave battle that rages between 4 creatures 1" long with wings, and two fully grown human men with a can of RAID that shot a 20' spray.

The Men came out Victorious.

And I promptly called my doctor for an Epi-Pen refill and my landlord to get some Pest Control workers out here.

So, they came today, sadly with little warning. Which led to my last minute harried-ness this morning. We had help on Thursday and Wash actually told his aide NOT TO HELP HIM. So, the place was left a frakkin' mess. I am not upset at the aide, she was listening and caring for Wash, he just kept insisting her to leave things for "him" to clean "later". [I was having a long talk with the Social Worker out of the house at the time] So, Friday my house was a mess, and I was so busy and tired I couldn't do everything. And Wash was just happy because he was seeing a friend, and going to the Avengers movie, and getting to eat dinner out on top! So much fun stuff! For Wash, he cannot do more than one task at a time, and he forgets things. So, all his stuff he was going to pick up and clean, he did not.

Since I knew the kitchen had to be cleaned/cleared out for the pest guys to check, I ended up waking after less than 3 hours of sleep yet again this week (no naps for me, either!) to clean all the things Wash said he would have taken care of.

I know he needs to say these things to make himself feel useful, to feel needed, but all it does is add stress to me. Every time he puts something off- which is 99.999999% of the time, he never comes back to it. That's how his brain works. But, if I just do it for him, or if I do it after he says "I'll do it later" he turns his anger to me- "What, you don't trust me? You know it's your fault, really, you tell me I'm not allowed to do things when I want to!"

So, I just could not handle all the chores and work to do today, watching him and dealing with any help or issues or anger at me, dealing with the pest guys, and no sleep. It's all too too much.

I called my mum. Thankfully, she and my (step)dad agreed to watch him for a while today, let me work and rest a bit.

Wash was not really happy about this. He was confused, and angry and so mad that I "would not tell him where I was leaving him!". I had already told him calmly twice that he was going to stay with my mum today so I could work. He just literally could not remember even as I told him. So, he was pretty confused and angry when he left. He seems to think often that when he goes out for a day with someone else, I'm "leaving" him, "abandoning" him or the like. He just cannot grasp otherwise.

That's painful to see and deal with.

I did at least catch his mother up on things, so his parents really know. I just was not able to lie, to hold back, to be kind about it. He's not doing well. Things have changed, they are getting worse, and they very very likely will never get better again. So.

I cried a LOT this week.

Back to the pests, though! That was my histoire du jour.

Cleaned for 3 hours, and got Wash safely to my mums. He even got treats and snacks to go along with his sketchbook and ses 3 of "Fringe" to watch.

The pest guys came over, poked around a bit, checked outside, looked at my place and my 2 neighbours West of our unit, and came to a verdict of not Wasp, not African Honeybee (several colonies found locally in the last couple weeks) but Carpenter Bees.

So, our downstairs was treated, the outside, a crack in the wall between units filled, and the wooden fencing in my backyard treated too. Same for the neighbours.

Now it's noon, been awake for 5 ish hours, and have a few clear hours without Wash to try and rest this afternoon.

I think my biggest challenge will be to actually rest right now, today, and not use the next 4-6 hours to just clean without a Wash following behind me, or messing right up the things I just cleaned.

Thank you all, Dear Readers for your comments, support, and good wishes. I know, even though it's painful to face the truth, I'm coming into the final stretches with Wash.

I'm just going to do my best for him, and my best to be vocal about my own needs right now.

Creedence

Another bad night.

He passed out sometime close to 3am. I was up til 4.

He was just so confused and angry last night. He wanted to sleep alone.

This morning his meltdown was because he forgot how to work a dryer. "Settings? What are settings??"

More Hospice folks over today. More pills. More memories forgotten.

I woke up without him next to me this morning. So hollow inside.

Fucking cancer.

Thank you R. for the humor book- was the only thing yesterday I could laugh at.

Summations

And THERE is it. 2 plus hours into a not-fun-at-all talk this morning, continuing from last night, and Wash has said it out loud, again.
"Because I need to DO SOMETHING, MAKE SOMETHING of value, or why else stay alive? I'm worthless just existing."

He truly feels, believes, and was told from a young age on, if he cannot be "productive" in society, he should just die. [Why yes, he did read a lot of Ayn Rand]

He's already spoken to Hospice about this before, and his Chaplain and Social Worker, and Therapist have all said that is not true, but he really fucking believes that if he cannot work and get a paycheque, he should just fucking die already.

I told him earlier the least he could do today was to be honest to himself and us around him.

He's been so verbally abusive today.

Brain cancer can suck on Sideshow Boob.

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

So we had some nurses come over this afternoon and talk to Wash, and he spoke very honestly about his suicidal thoughts and wishes, but was able to say he would be "safe" for the next day and not an immediate danger to himself.
The nurses adjusted his meds, and had a social worker come over after they left; she talked for about an hour with him. She was able to figure out he was triggered into this most recent cycle when he was on the computer last night and saw a little side-ad for architecture college degrees.
So, we talked of a few ways to help when he was triggered, and how to distract him from the self-harming or suicidal thoughts.

Our friend N. is coming over to take him to a burger place for dinner, and my brother is coming over the evening to help me watch and distract him. I still want someone to sleep over with us tonight though, and someone in the morning.

So.
Hospice rocks, cancer sucks, and this is emotionally draining. Also, my intestines hurt again.

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

Wash has said he is ok with me posting these portions of my more private entries from the last day.

He wants people to see what it is like.

He wants others to know what happens, physically and mentally.

Even in his most trying times, he wants to be an example, and it breaks my heart he cannot see what an effect he has had.