See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me
Entry 1 1:29 p.m . Jenny told me on several occasions over the last few years, before she was diagnosed with PDAC and while in a state of agitation, how empty she felt. Sobbing, typically prone on the bed, or in a corner of our old couch, she would tell me she was worthless. She said she was the worst person in the world, that no one was more terrible than her.; that no one had ever felt more empty. She was serious. It happened not frequently, but more than a few times. I didn't brush it off, but didn't give these statements the attention they deserved, in hindsight. She was seeing a therapist, and I urged her to tell her therapist about it. I suggested she ask about changing her antidepressant. She said no one could understand, no one could help. I don't know if she ever did talk to her therapist. She would snap out of it each time, relatively quickly. These feelings didn't stick around for more than a few hours. I simply wrote her lamentations off as evidence o...