We’re at the point now where my pain, nausea and various side effects couldn’t be managed at home anymore, so I’ve been transferred to the hospice house. Its been a mixed bag so far, but I do like being able to get my meds via my port. Well the important ones anyway. Hopefully things will improve as we figure out the new schedule. What I’m really, really hoping for is a good, solid might of rest. I have never been this exhausted.
I had some pics to upload but the wifi here sucks balls.
Freya leaves for a school trip tomorrow afternoon, and will be gone until next Tuesday. We’re all concerned I’m going to die before she gets back. She came down to my bedroom and I held her while we talked, cried, and discussed our feelings. I’m going to keep our words private, but the unconditional love between us is so pure and beautiful. It takes my breath away. There’s more I want to say, but I’m too overwhelmed right now.
I didn’t use the “step mom” tag on this post because it’s not able to convey the depths of my love and devotion for her. She’s always felt like my own, and I’m thankful that her mother has always been willing to accept, and even nurture, our relationship. I know that’s not easy
My heart is shattered.
So. Much. Pain.
Tonight’s random song stuck in my brain is “Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens.”
It takes a lot of sitting getting chicks to hatch!
Today got fucking weird and intense. My mom slept until like 3 because she apparently ate a fuckton of edibles the night before. She desperately wants to stay indefinitely, but I told her we cannot deal with that stress right now. So now maybe she’s renting a room? Idk. All I know is I feel guilty and that when I shouldn’t have to worry about any of it.
My body continues to deteriorate. It’s scary. I see the nurse tomorrow. I’m trying to decide if I want to transfer my care to the hospice house so that I can just relax.
Oh my friends brought me by a sweet new (to me) eagle cane they found at a flea market. I’m calling him Clyde.
We had a five hour visit this afternoon/evening. It totally drained me, but it was definitely worth it. The vibe was much different than I anticipated. The conversation flowed. My mom brought a box of old pics that we reminisced over. We helped each other remember various things. We confessed things, and discussed others that were long overdue. There were def tears, but it felt good to be in their presence, just like how I always wanted it to be: honest and loving. We laughed even more than we cried.
Krystal was a mess as she was leaving, and she’s hopeful there will be time to see each other again, but is prepared for there not to be. I’m at peace with what I was able to say in parting, and I hope she takes it to heart. Despite us never having that traditional sisterly bond, I love her very, very much.
My mom is still here, since she’s staying the night, so I imagine things will get a bit more intense between us in the morning. I’ve called it a night though because I’m exhausted and I definitely need some rest.
I told them that they’re all that’s left of this family (considering Samantha is lost to heroin), and they need to try to put the bullshit behind them and start fresh. I hope my death can bring them closer at the very least. Tonight made it obvious that there is still lots of love here, and that doesn’t just go away.
I love you both. The good and the ugly. The ugly made us who we are, and there’s no time to live in regret. Never forget.
We watched Bad Moms, which was a hit, and then started Bridesmaids, but she fell asleep before things could really get funny (the epic diarrhea scene). We have plans to watch more on Sunday and Monday. Monday is our day together, and she wants me to show her Beaches and Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I still play, and 420 games seemed like a good number to celebrate.
I guess I’m never going to beat that damn max streak. A little over a month ago it was 85, which had been my personal best for almost the entire time. I was so excited to get to 86, and I was like “fuck yes I’m getting this baby to 100” and then lost the very next round. Boo hiss! Lol. Still – it brings me joy to play, though it’s getting more difficult under the drug fueled haze. I make a lot of silly mistakes nowadays.
D sent me a couple of pics from back when our family was super new. They bring up so many feels.
I lived long enough to hear Jean-Luc Picard say “fucking.” Worth it.
My only regret is I wish it were pink. Lol. I may tie a scarf around it just to spice things up. Though then the cats may mistake it for a toy.
Going to the hospital this morning was extremely draining. And the doctor was an arrogant fuck face. He tried to tell me all the reasons it wasn’t actually clogged and was clearly user error, up until all of those excuses kind of blew up in his face. Anyway – the short version is that he drained almost 2 liters, and it should be working again.
At some point in the wee morning hours, I realized that I’m very proud of what a fucking warrior I have been; how I’ve fought as hard as I could and gave it everything I’ve got. I can die at peace knowing there was nothing more I could reasonably do. That lifted a big weight from me emotionally. I feel like I can start to let go. It’s time to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about myself.