This is the next in a series of transcripts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.
So, on top of all of this, I get sick, too. Whatever reserves Dave had, he has used them in taking me to the hospital in the middle of the night and sitting with me there. And I have Lyme’s, an illness of lingering pain and confinement.
So, on top of all of this, I get sick, too. Whatever reserves Dave had, he has used them in taking me to the hospital in the middle of the night and sitting with me there. And I have Lyme’s, an illness of lingering pain and confinement.
People came to care for us for
awhile. I can’t drive. I improve slowly. He improves hardly at all.
I am more than marginalized. I feel forgotten. I do not function
except at a very low level. My spirit is deflated. I feel frustrated
at every turn. I don’t want too many people around, but feel
abandoned when they are not. Almost nothing gets done.
This is the
oddest desert that has ever swallowed me. It is quicksand. My
strength has fled.
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