Christmas Lights


Jenny felt well enough, after the transfusion, to drive and see Christmas lights last night. I don't want to state the obvious but everything we do we ask ourselves "Is this Jenny's last time [insert experience or activity]?

Jenny's energy level has crashed again. The Friday transfusion helped for one day. She hasn't left the couch, other than to use the bathroom, since waking.
Entry 2.    3:45 p.m.

What do you get your dying mother for Christmas? How do we even have Christmas with a straight face? I can't stop crying.
Entry 3    6:00 p.m.
Jenny is in and out of sleep. She is awake now, the "There's Always Tomorrow" for dreams to come true scene playing on Rudolph.  Fuck the universe.
Entry 4    6:46 p.m.
The dishwasher broke. My friend Paul warned me about Samsung appliances when we were house hunting. The dishwasher has a mode which keeps it running no matter what if it thinks it is leaking. It isn't leaking.  I used the kill switch in the fuse box.  Great timing.
Entry 5.     7:40 p.m.
For 19 years we never missed gift giving on Advent for the kids. It's very central to the Christmas celebration we do.  As I was Christmas shopping with Abby today I realized we missed the first four days this year.  We have all the gifts, it just hasn't happened. 

I hung the wreath today on the front door.  Jenny had me tie the knitted bow Omi made on the wreath. Omi put it on her wreath each year.  Despite everything, it feels like Christmas is here in the little things we do.

I should note the generosity of friends and family is ceaseless. Today a friend came and cleaned the house, Jenny's sister cleaned the fridge and steam cleaned the rug in Jenny's room. Another friend showed up with 2 quarts of salmon chowder. Finally this evening, our friend Kelly, whose husband died of pancreatic cancer last year, came and took our two defunct vacuum cleaners away to give to a vacuum repair shop.  People have been texting and calling, my brother-in-law this morning for instance, to check on me and offer us help. Having been through this with my best friend at 17 and my mom more recently, I know the hardest part, the loneliest part is about two months out from the loss. For now, I am soaking in the kindness.
Entry 6.     8:06 p.m.
Jenny barely ate at around 6. I baked chicken and rice, made a quiche and
roasted broccoli. De rigeur in a house with sliding scale vegetarians.  She nibbled at her food. It's been two hours. We have been postponing Advent Sunday for almost 2 hours now.  Jenny keeps falling asleep, and is now awake, but needs more time to digest her food. I am very worried about her, as one might imagine.  




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