Oklahoma Days

I haven't written much lately because my days are all blurring together. I will try to pick up where I left off last week. 

When I was in Oklahoma last week, Mark was pretty stable and the nurses were saying 2 to 4 weeks of life were left to him.  So I returned to Houston on Sunday and experienced a pretty normal work/school week with Robin and Cypress.  Thursday, however, the nurses here told us that Mark was deteriorating rapidly and would only have a couple of days left to live, so I got back on another flight Friday night.

The time I am spending here is precious. Mark is going down Memory Lane whenever he is lucid.  He is asking for specific artists and songs to hear every day.  He is very particular about who is in the room with him.  His hospital bed is set up in the living room so the whole house and all activities rotate around him.  This is as it should be.  Mallory and Morgan have stopped bringing the young children here.  The scene is just too stressful for them.  I leave as often as possible and go take them away from their father's and take them to do something.  Usually a park or lakeside as I know how calming nature can be during these stressful times.  They are very curious about Mark and we have long detailed conversations about death and dying and loving and living.  They are amazed when I still cry about my parents, sister, grandparents, uncles, and friends who have died.  They ask me about Robin and Cypress often and I can't wait to get them up here with us. 

The days in the house consist of round the clock care and dosing.  Mark can't eat now, but he still wants to.  His bowels have stopped functioning and so anything that goes into his stomach has to be vomited out.  He is asking for less and less everyday.  He has sips of water after each heavy dose of painkillers, tranquilizers, and nausea medicine.  I am on night duty tonight (morning) so I had a cup of coffee at midnight and am still up working at 6:30.  I have actually gotten alot of work done that I wouldn't normally sit still to do.  Silver linings.  I am learning that I had better be nice to my kids so that when I am in this state, they will want to come and feed me and dress me and give me hugs everyday!  Morgan and I made a pact to help each other when we get this bad off. 

We hug each other often.  We are all eating too much and not getting out of our chairs enough.  I hired a masseuse who will be here at 12:00 noon to set up shop in the back bedroom.  We all absolutely need to relax a little.  The baby Clara has been with us nonstop.  It is easiest for Mallory to breastfeed her if she is here.  She sits on Mark's lap and plays pattycake and peek a boo every day with him.

Mark keeps saying what a wonderful life he has had, and what a saint his wife is, and how glad he is that he made the choices he has made.  I want to live like that.  He is my inspiration.

The clock ticks
I count breaths
The bed creaks
I run to the bedside to catch you if you fall
You reach for water
I cradle my hands under it to catch it
You dream of your dead mother
I dream of my living lover
Body wastes away slowly
Mind grows to encompass the entirety of your human life.
I dose you again with liquid bliss
You hug me and say "I've had a good life"

I can't imagine leaving here, but I know I need to think about a plan.  I think Mark is going to hold on for a while.  His muscles are still strong.  His blood pressure ebbs and flows.  He is lucid between doses.  He says he feels the tumor squeezing his lungs and heart.  I am grateful for the Hospice nurses and their attitude of wanting tokeep him pain free.  Many people visit here and he introduces me and brags on me, but I see that they are really impressed by him.  He and my dad have this quiet confidence and competence in common.  Its hard for me to see such strong men go down.  I will have to go back to Houston on the weekend and relieve Jamie.  I know my aunt is going to need more help when we all have to go back to work.  I think guard rails on the bed are going to become necessary.  Mark often startles awake and throws himself out of the bed in a hurry to go somewhere.  He can't articulate where he is going, but his lifetime of hardworking habits are still showing up.  As soon as the sun comes up he tries to push himself up and says he needs to go to work.  He asks us every day why we aren't at work.  I feel I am doing the hardest work I've ever  done.  And I am doing it happily.