Grace hasn’t eaten for over a week, yet she is still holding on. She receives morphine every four hours and a sedative once a day. Her breathing has slowed but remains steady. The doctor said on Thursday that she would be surprised if Grace were still with us on Monday.
I’ve run out of clothes and need to shave, so I pop back home for five minutes. My way of coping is to be with Grace; I don’t want to leave her side for even a minute.
One nurse upset me yesterday by coming into the room loudly and turning on the lights while administering morphine. It was the first time in Pniel that I got upset and was too harsh on the poor nurse. Later, she was sweet and offered me food if I wanted it. When they came to check if Grace needed a clean, they were very sensitive.
The support I’ve received from people, especially those I’ve never met, is amazing.
I’m being bitten by mosquitoes, but I don’t care. The sadness is starting to lessen a bit; I don’t cry as much or as intensely as I used to. There’s some acceptance and normalization happening in my mind regarding what’s going on. I’m back at my desk, not just playing games, but also writing this journal again. I even watched a violent action movie yesterday, whereas for the last few days I’ve only watched romantic films and cozy TV series.
Up until now, I’ve only been able to focus on planning the funeral.
I’m happy to see Grace at peace. I often lie next to her, holding her hand and kissing her gently. My sleep patterns are all over the place. Last night, I slept early evening, then from around 9:30 until 3:00, was awake until around 4:45, and then fell asleep again.
Onze vier! That’s what the funeral is about.
