After spending several hours Tuesday night with Daddy being awake and trying to talk to me, Wednesday was really hard. He was in a deep sleep, morphine helped of course, but even if you shouted his name in his face, he wasn't going to wake up. We kept his pain medicine dosing pretty consistent, but not too close together either. There's was no way to know for sure, but I kept telling myself he was comfortable and not in any pain. His body was shutting down, little by little. I thought I was okay with this, I had told him I was okay with this... I was wrong. I could barely bring myself to sit next to him let alone hold his hand like I always did, because I knew he wasn't waking up this time... I knew it, I knew it and I couldnt handle it. I just wanted one more smile... But I settled for talking in his ear, the doctors and hospice staff told us that the last two senses to leave us are touch and hearing, so I stroked his hair and talked to him.
Kind of like how you too to a baby, knowing they can't respond to you or really understand what you're saying, but you want them to hear your voice and feel your love. I kept having to remind myself to breathe, I was more concerned with his breathing..... I'd watch his chest rise and fall, no two breaths the same length or depth, and as his chest fell each time, my heart would stop waiting for it to rise again. With each millisecond in between--- all the thoughts that had built up over the past 22 months flashed through my brain, but then... His chest would rise, my heart would start pounding again, and I'd feel relief, but not a typical relief, it was relief mixed with guilt mixed with anxiety and pain... I'll admit it, I wanted him to die. I wanted him to leave his cancer and turmoil behind him, I wanted his wakes and funeral to be sooner rather than later (if they had gone one day later they would have kept me from starting my Americorps training) I wanted my family to be able to finally start grieving... Stage four cancer is a death sentence, but daddy kept beating all odds over and over to the point that some family members thought he was indestructible, ..... In my mind, he still is.