Saturday night and Ruth and I just watched the University of Tennessee blow the game against Georgia. She's a "Vols" fan. It's been a good game, but I've been devoting a lot more attention to Beck. She's holding on for something and we don't know what, but she isn't going to go until she's ready. I kind of lost it this morning. Everything had been building up and building up, and I woke with a headache piercing through my eyes. We have been sleeping in the room with Beck. Last night we took turns, and it was brutal. The thing that hurt me the most is that Beck was trying to talk to me. She would hear my voice and her eyes would open and she would start a low moan. I talked to her and asked her questions, and she gave me short answers. It's amazing as sick as she is that she still knows me and my voice, but it doesn't surprise me. We used to lay in bed at night and talk for hours. Before we were married, we would talk on the phone until the early hours of the morning. I started feeling like I wasn't doing the right thing here, and I asked about stopping the Hydromorphone pump, but God sent a special hospice nurse in the room to talk to me. I guess I just wanted to hear her voice once more. I thought that maybe she would sit up and be okay. I've been taking care of her for so long, and I felt like I had failed her. The Hospice nurse told me that those feelings were normal, and this wasn't my fault. I needed to hear it. The lack of sleep and intense sorrow have taken their toll. I'm not ready to give her up. I never will be and I hate this. I just held her feet a minute ago and it occurred to me that I'm going to miss every single thing about her. I would do anything to hear her say my name just one more time. Anything.
She's heavily sedated and they doubled her pain meds. She's taking very short and sporadic breaths, and she's moaning from time to time, but they assure me she can't feel anything. They are pumping Dilaudid, (hyrdomorphone), and Ativan directly into her chest and blood system. She's not feeling anything, but I know she still hears me when I talk to her because she responds. I keep telling her it's okay to go. I tell her we are all going to Heaven, and we need her to go now and make the way ready for all of us. It's all up to her and God. We will be here until the end, although sometimes I have to walk outside because I can't breath. I just want to scream, "Baby please don't leave me". I'm sure I wouldn't be the first on the cancer floor to do that. I'm praying for God's mercy and Grace. Please take her home Lord, and thy will be done.
All for now. God Bless and love all of you.
