Nobody Loves No One

Entry 1     3:14 a.m.

She stopped eating food a few days ago. She no longer drinks water. I moisten her mouth with bits of water soaked sponges mounted on lollipop sticks. She isn't awake much. Her eyes widened and lips curled up in a smile as she said, "husband," about 12 hours ago, lit up like she won the lottery. I had given up hope of seeing that emotion toward me again, or of hearing her call me by any appellation, let alone husband. My heart sung.  Then back to incoherence where she had been for half a day before, and where she returned and remains after that single utterance. Her pain is expressed in groans and grunts. 

The death rattle breathing began in earnest a few hours ago and is apace. She isn't simply gaunt, she looks like a tent knocked down by a winter storm, her cheeks hollow, her temples sunken, her mouth agape. She weighs so little she is skeletal. The jaundice is off the charts-- her skin colored like she spent a few days in Acapulco in a single night.  

I slept for half an hour tonight. So afraid she will die as I sleep, that I can't let myself go. She wants to have the girls in the room when she passes. I won't forgive myself if I can't honor the wish they so desperately want to grant. I have slept 8-9 hours max in four days. I can't let myself sleep. I can't let her slip away.

Kim and Jane are keeping me sane. They are carrying so much of the load, including my emotional baggage, I don't know how I could survive this without them. They give me faith in humanity

Entry 2.     4:06 a.m.

Went to turn off Jenny's Bluetooth on her iPhone and ended up doing what I promised myself I wouldn't do.  Did she leave all this evidence on purpose? I now know she spent even more time than I knew with el pinché. Throughout the last year. Nearly every outing she made seems to have been a ruse or else had time built in to see el pinché. Most of it was facilitated and/or encouraged by Heather and Jennifer. It's terrible. Also, I found an actual direct conversation about Heather's affair with her handyman.  I knew Jenny was coaching her, but to be so brazen as to bring him to my house. It feels like a Jonny cleans Eric's house kind of moment, in retrospect. I will share with Tom, Heather's husband.  And, all the dates and locations of Jenny's hook-ups will be fun to send to Eric's wife when this is all done.

I learned that they, Jenny and el pinché, smoked pot together more than once--and it helped his anxiety and her appetite. This means, because it didn't happen at home, she was driving on oxy and marijuana. Who is she? Where did the woman I know go?

When she was home, back when she was mobile (up until the end of December), she would expect me to wait on her hand and foot, even when she was capable, and constantly pulled the cancer card when complaining to friends about, for instance, the ONE day I didn't make her dinner after she had been out all day. I reasoned, she is able to be out all day, ergo she must not be so sick as to not cook for herself. 

But if I were to plot this activity on a calendar--those of you who know me know I just might do that for el pinché's dolt of a spouse--more days than not were spent with el pinché. More time was spent scheming to see him than I could make up. She would spend all of her energy, most every day on el pinché, and then come home and expect me to play the dutiful husband, which I did.

But: Not one date during this period with Abby, Leiney or both girls. No texts about planning with friends or me about how to spend more time with her flesh and blood. Zero. Soul crushing.

This is killing me. She put her lover before our girls, knowingly lied about me, used me, and bragged about it, leaving evidence everywhere for me to find.  Between her dying and the betrayal, I can't stop my mind from racing. It's 4:15 a.m. and I can't get it together to power down.

Entry 3.    9:09 a.m.

Chris and I are certain today is the last day of Jenny's life, when she will succumb to the cancer. She left us days ago, the death rattle a taunt from the grim reaper, reminding us of the tenuousness between being in a particular state and then not being at all.

Abby got up and went to school, controlling her surroundings to the degree possible. Leiney climbed in to the bed next to Jenny to be near as her mother's life essence evaporates. If my girls don't get through this, I will have no point in my life.

I am feeling, torn between hurt and grief, worrying for my children, for Jenny and for me.

Entry 4    10:50 a.m.

I can't forget this sweet story. The other day one of us, not me, was swabbing Jenny's mouth. Jenny had stopped being coherent by this time. As the swab, sucked dry by Jenny, was being pulled away from her mouth, she looks at me plaintively and signs "more." It was sweet, a dark milestone, and poignant.

Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance.

 -Virgil

I  call bullshit.






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