Another Day, Another Dollar
My identity has been subsumed. I don't know what it was before, but what I can say with a certainty, right now I am a nurse's aide, a caregiver, smoothie, soup maker,and chief sheet washer. Sometimes I feel like I am a docent, leading Jenny from bathroom to bathroom.
Jenny's stubbornness, I am convinced, has helped keep her alive. It is a boon for us all, but can also be my bane. Whether it be insisting on driving, taking stairs, or refusing a walker/wheelchair, she is a risk taker. The example foremost in my mind is the insistence on eating solid food. It has not worked out so much for her--well not worked out at all--since she had the stent placed. I think since December she has managed to keep down solid food twice. Twice. She has also eaten solid food every single day. Last night it was sushi. My tolerance for vomit after 17 months is precisely nil.
While I admire her fortitude, it is playing hell on my stomach and I swear to God the vomiting has caused me to have PTSD.
Yesterday we had almost a dozen people in the house. I whipped the house into shape for the visit, it shined like a new chrome bumper on a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. I wanted Jenny to be as proud as possible, so I did things like scrub the moldings and light switch plates, which I am realizing our housekeeper never does. Jenny was ecstatic. Mission accomplished.
Lora, Jenny's stepmother came with her daughter to visit Jenny. Jenny's sister Moni and her family came. Jane was over as it was her day to help us. Jenny's friend Amy Paige was over to walk the dog.
Lora is in bad shape at 84. She is frail, wears wigs because of alopecia, and walks with a cane and just lost an eye to some malady. She is much healthier than Jenny, however. Since losing Jenny's dad to pancreatic cancer, Lora has moved from Gig Harbor to Portland to be near her daughter and grandson. She and Jenny love each other very much, making the visit quite poignant. Thet spent just two hours with each other, but Lora and family are coming back in two weeks with her son Alex and his husband, who lives in Portugal and London these days.
Jenny has such a full social calendar, and zero energy. She just keeps on pushing. A friend took her to Cirque Du Soleil at Marymoor yesterday evening, and then, as you might have guessed, out to sushi. She did take and use the wheelchair, thank Christ.
Me, I set up my computer to use its DLNA services and streamed music downstairs and read. The kids were hanging out with their cousins at Moni's and it was just me and my crate mates, a perfect night, nevertheless.
In other news, Moni sent a text to Chris on a thread shared with Jenny, and which Jenny saw Moni telling Chris how hard it was on Dave and Hannah to see Jenny so sick. The two of them hadn't seen Jenny since Christmas and were surprised at her decline. I am inured to the changes, overall, but I am sure she does look weaker, more gaunt, and frankly older.
Jenny is downstairs chatting with her childhood friend Amelia, a lovely woman. I am happy about that. She is level-headed. I spoke with her earlier this week and she knows the 411.
Jane stopped by to say hello and drop off mac and cheese, which I planned to eat tonight, but apparently we can save it for another night, since Pam is bringing dinner.
Entry 2 4:35 p.m.
A family friend who lost her husband to PDAC in 2020 and who is a therapist came to visit us today. She wanted to try and help Jenny come to terms with the idea of stopping chemotherapy.
Jenny is implacable. She was angry with me the entire time our friend was here, thinking I had orchestrated this. I hadn't. I was glad our friend came, but she had asked to come see Jenny, worried that I wasn't refusing to let Jenny go upstairs, risking a fall. She noted Jenny isn't in her right mind from the cancer and drugs, when offering to come over. At that same time she bluntly told me I was wrong to let her climb stairs, and said it could damage my kids if she fell and hurt herself or worse.
I won't go through all the details of the meeting, but will share just a couple of the highlights:
1) Jenny accused me of wanting her to stop chemo--despite my clearly enunciating that it needs to be her choice. She really wants me to be the heavy, so she can be aggrieved. I refused.
2) She told our friend that she is, in essence, fine, apart from the tumor and mets. I almost leaned over and asked, "Apart from that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?"
Entry 3 10:26 p.m.
Our family friend that visited today has been texting me all evening, apologizing. She wonders if she'd gone too far, been too direct with Jenny. I assured her that wasn't the case. All of these people think Jenny walks on water. I think Jenny is amazing in more ways than I could list. I also think she is mentally ill. Certifiable. Diagnosable. But, because that side of her persona has only shown up in the privacy of our home, and now to an audience just a bit wider--her sisters that is--people aren't prepared when the pathology rears it's head. If you aren't looking, it would be easy to miss.
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