Bright And Early For The Daily Races

Entry 1 

 Going Nowhere, Going Nowhere

I've been awake much of the.night, and gave up trying to sleep around 6 a.m.  I am sharing a bed with Jenny for the first time in a year out of necessity and a misunderstanding that when the place said it sleeps 5, that I would have my own sleeping space.  The good news is, the bed we are sleeping on, a pull-out couch, is so uncomfortable it is not possible to sleep soundly. 

That last fact came in handy last night when I was having an M. Night Shyalamanesque nightmare, after spending the afternoon telling my kids what a terrible filmmaker he is. I dreamt I was at a multiplex to see a movie, not "Old" (his latest), but some movie created by my psyche. Jenny and I got into a row at the theater over the baseball hat she was wearing (Eric's el pinché's. The real one somehow disappeared in the move. . . weird) and I stormed off. I ended up in a theater playing the faux-Shyamalan movie. The storyline was about going to a movie (in my dream, it was the old Lewis and Clark Theater crossed with the Thornton Creek theater, or at least it's escalators) which actually turned out to be a ceaseless torture session of unspeakable horrors by even more unspeakable boogie men. I somehow ended up in the movie, as did all the people in the theater. Each time I thought I escaped the movie and was exiting the theater, another unspeakable horror befell me. At some point, I actually managed to escape the theater, I thought, and found Abby, who was her 10 year old self, in the lobby.  My big fear, each time I had tried to escape the theater is that it was well after midnight, and I didn't have my wallet, and Jenny had the car, so I had no way to safely get home in the dark.  I believed Jenny had left, but Abby told me they (Jenny and the kids) were watching a Dolly Parton movie in another screening room. Jenny, according to Abby, hadn't wanted to leave me alone, knowing I didn't have cash or a debit card, but didn't want to take the kids to a horror flick. We got on a long elevator to go up to the lobby.  Abby disappeared, and another escapee from the movie and I (a young, nameless Asian woman, who appeared seemingly from the ether) were almost all the way up the elevator when we were caught and subject to additional torture--the movie hadn't ended.  The movie hadn't ended, I hadn't
escaped. At this point, I actually woke up. It was 2:30 a.m., and only the rank discomfort from the bed convinced me I wasn't still in the movie, still trapped in a hellish dream.  I stayed awake for a while, maybe 30 minutes, before going back to sleep and waking up at 6.

Tonight, I am sleeping in the pleather chair I am writing in now, using a kitchen chair to rest my feet.
Entry 2    6:36 p.m.

Today was a do-nothing day. Jenny's energy is terrible, her weight dropping like a Florida barometer just before Katrina hit. She slept until 10:15.  I made pancakes and she ate well.  She had her cancer coach appt. at 12:30, and asked that we wait until after to go do anything. We left for the Sea Lion caves around 1245, drove the 15 miles there in a snap. Jenny looking wan and failing, mustered the strength to get to the Caves. It was too cold, however, to keep her there too long.  And while we took an elevator to the bottom, we had to climb an additional 50 or so steps on a steep stairway to get back to the entrance. Jenny took her time, me behind her to keep her from falling. She made it through force of will. Immediately, she had to go outside to get air, but stubbornly and pridefully declined to take a seat on a bench. She returned to the gift shop/entrance, but was so weak she lasted about a minute before having to sit, 
and went to a bench and did just that,  a humbling admission. I stayed with the kids, acting like the new normal is not as alarming as it is.   We bought trinkets and retreated to the car.   The entire visit lasting less then 45 minutes. 

In the car,  I noticed that Jenny's skin on her arms looks like crepe paper, a sign of rapid weight loss. We left and I took her to get a high calorie lunch.  Returning to the yurt, Jenny curled up in a chair and slept the next 3 hours away, and sleeps even now. 

I hate watching this happen. It is really happening, and accelerating.
Entry 3     9:50 p.m.
I cant wait to be home and move in to the new place.

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