kvetching up

Entry 1  " Ain't it just like the night to play tricks When you're trying to be so quiet?"                         -from Visions of Johanna  From Notre Dame 7.11.2018. When Jenny was first diagnosed, I had a recurring nightmare. In a darkened room, lit only by candles in candelabras sitting on an ornately carved dining room table, sat Mick, Omi and my mother dressed in flowing white robes, stern-faced. My mother and Omi sat across from me at one end of the table, with Mic to my right at the head of the very long table. I don't remember if they said anything to me, but I do know they were very disapproving of the way I was and had treated Jenny. Their presence was terrifying. I felt as if I was visiting the land of the dead and being judged a failure in my relationship with my cancer-diagnosed wife.      ⬲⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬐⬐⬐⬐ ⬲ In my waking life, despite knowing it was ...

Entry 1 4:00 a.m. I'm not sleeping . " Boots of Spanish Leather " on heavy rotation in my head.  After arriving home last night, I hid away in the office with a glass of scotch. I read journal articles and worked on yesterday's journal entry. I wasn't brooding, exactly. I was just overwhelmed. This morning I am awake, sleepy and unable to get back to sleep. Jenny is on my mind. I am very worried about her. I can't stand this suffering. What comes next is worse. We are riding the train to destination fucked, with lots of stops for misery and regret along the way. After a year and a quarter, I am spent. I can't fathom how Jenny feels. One blessing, the dogs are asleep. Damn it. They beckon. Buddy is as subtle as a hard on in stretch polyester slacks.

Entry 1          9:09 a.m. " Why he that cuts off twenty years of life  Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Grant that, and death is a benefit."     -Wm. Shakespeare Jenny's third friend with pancreatic cancer that she has made, is likely going on hospice today. She has to decide. There is one more drug that they can try with a 10% chance of working .  By working, I presume it means slow down the process of dying, because there is no cure for stage IV metastatic pancreatic cancer.  Jenny spent much of yesterday again pleading and lamenting, and ultimately denying her life is foreshortened by PDAC.  I don't think the latter is as meaningful as it once was, after the visit to the UW Liver Clinic, and after watching 3 people she befriended with the disease, each around her age, dying or rapidly heading toward the final reward.  But I am wracked with sadness, for her pain, for her fear, for the battle ahead, and for the eventu...

Tied To The Whipping Post Another busy day.  Work in the time of COVID-19 is predictably unpredictable.  The solar company representative came today to show me how the 27 solar panels on top of the house work.  I had no idea the meter runs backwards as the solar is pumping in power to the system. Pretty impressed, honestly.  Many months are electric bill will be $12 dollars, the minimum amount charged.  I like that.  A lot.   However, our thermostat isn't working, which means our air conditioning isn't working. For some reason I had it in my head that the solar company was responsible for the thermostat.  In fact, that is not the case.  So, I called the number on the side of our our HVAC system, and someone is coming out on Monday, after the heatwave.  I pleaded to put us at the front of the line should there be any cancellations, and explained Jenny's condition. Tomorrow she has chemo, and the weekend will be hell with the heat and...

Entry 1    10:33 a.m. The running water went out at the campground last night around 10, and it's yet to be restored.  For those of us in bondage to the coffee bean, this was no bueno.

Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born "Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm " -Bob Dylan Friday I am 10 minutes from the start of the work day. I can't get 3427.8 out of my mind. Two weeks ago her CA 19-9 was startlingly high at 2349.4, a slight increase from the February 25 measure of 2321.5, which was more than double the 939.9 two weeks prior to that. I am worried. Numbers trending up like this generally mean the tumor is growing. 0-36 is the normal range for this marker. So, fuck. Jenny hasn't checked the number, and I promised if I looked I wouldn't tell her. So, I haven't. Won't. I imagine she will look today at some point, as noted earlier, we all gaze into the abyss. It's in our nature. This is a slow-motion train wreck. Stage IV Prog...