Plan C?

 Well, it's here.  I was dreading today - the first day of the last week of Bob's life.

I wonder how I handled all this last year.  I don't really remember.  I know it had to be hard.  Maybe I tried to distract myself.  Obviously I didn't write about it.

Hence the total self-indulgence this year.  No distractions.  This year I'm owning my demons.  They are mine.  I will dance with them in the moonlight.  I will invite them in for tea and crumpets.  Hell - I might have a makeout session with them on the couch.  No more demons lurking in the background.  Bring it on.

Because two things are clear.  First and foremost:  Bob should not have had to endure those last two months of torture.  He was too good of a man to have to go through that.  The pain, the weakness, the total loss of any personal dignity, the deep fear.  He didn't deserve that.

Second:  I should not have had to sit there and watch it, helpless.  And stay strong.  Never cried.  Even when I was alone (when he was in intensive care, or in dialysis) because if I ever let myself fall apart I wasn't sure I could get it back together again.  I didn't deserve that.

But you know what?  Shit happens.

March 23, 2020.  Still waiting for the blood count numbers to shift.  At first it was supposed to be a week until we saw the beginnings of the results of his second transplant.  Then 10 days.  Maybe 2 weeks.  Three weeks at the absolute outside.  That would be on the 25th.  Dr. Farhadfar comes in to see us, looks at his records, looks at him.  She says she will give it another week to see if something happens, and then do another bone marrow biopsy.  I ask her what the next step will be if it shows that this transplant has also failed.  Her face was very carefully expressionless.  "We will see what the biopsy says."  And she left.

Bob and I both just breathed for a few minutes.  I had my hand on his arm.  Finally I looked at him and said "I don't think there is a Plan C."

I don't recall anything else that day.  Although we didn't talk about it (well, by that time he was drifting in and out a lot and didn't talk much anyway), that was the day that we both realized that he wasn't going to survive this.  He was dying.

March 23, 2022.  Pouring down rain today - but still worked at the museum.  Wednesdays are giggle day while doing diets - two of the volunteers are good friends and have a lot of fun and somehow we all end up being silly and laughing (although the work gets done efficiently).  Came home and despite my rain jacket I'm soaking wet, so what the heck - on with the pajamas.  Lunch and a nap.  I did stop by the feed store yesterday for a few tomato plants and herbs but it's raining too much to plant them, so maybe tomorrow.   I also got a two more goldfish, bigger ones this time.  Christy and Rik at the feed store (where I got my plants) keep goldfish in the sheep's water trough to deal with mosquito larva and they netted a couple for me.  Once again, after late lunch and nap, I realize it's 8:30 and I haven't had any dinner yet - will I bother, or will it be crackers and cheese and an apple again?  I did go to Aldi yesterday and picked up some double cream blue cheese, so that's tempting.  And do some spinning before going to bed to read.