Was It All A Lie?

Entry 2 ⛔ 
She doesn't know me. Consistently. Today, I am Fred McGillicuddy. This is painful to watch. Worse, everytime she wakes up she asks if she has pancreatic cancer and is devastated when told it wasn't just a dream. "Am I really dying?"

Entry 1.    7:42 a.m.

Was It Was All A Lie.

Am I an abject idiot? An unalloyed dolt? A perfect specimen of stupidity? Yes. Yes. Yes. As the tanks are rolling into Ukraine, I am dealing with the far less earth shaking discovery that Jenny was telling friends she didn't love me, that I didn't take care of her, that el pinché is her true love and that she was only staying with me because she needed me to care for her and because she needed my medical insurance. As I minister to her every need, as we sooth and love her, I am sitting here armed with the knowledge that it was all a lie, that she didn't love me and told terrible lies about

me. She never stopped hurting me as long as she had her faculties. As I assuage her fear of death, keep her warm, feed her and love on her, I am armed with the knowledge shared by her principal that when she was volunteering at school in September and October it wasn't tutelage of special Ed students as she claimed, but "working with Eric in the gym" that occupied her days. 

I am lost.


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