I know that even though G’s journey on this earth has ended ours still continues. She is pain free now; no more pain and suffering. But her family and friends left on this earth are left to suffer and remember the devastation this disease wracked on her body. I am thankful that her suffering is over but I feel like mine has just begun. No matter how I try to remind myself that she will feel no more needles, no more weakness, no more pain; I cannot help but feel devastated that I can no longer talk to her, or tell her I love her, or just “be” with her. I cannot hear her laugh, or tell me I’m chapping her ass and give me the side-eye any longer. I cannot hear her say “I love you most”.
While lying in bed the last couple of days of her life, she may not have been able to show us her true self very often, but there were times she was able to show us her spunk and sense of humor. G’s willfulness and determination is what brought her this far and carried her for so long. Even in the end, she did not want to give up. She was struggling so much and it broke my heart every time I had to watch her struggle for air. She bounced back so many times. Even to her very last breath, I believed that God would answer my prayers and heal her on this earth so that we might keep her with us.
And I keep reliving her last days over and over. When she was drawing her last breaths I felt such confusion. I understood what was happening but I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that she was actually leaving us…I still had hope that God would heal her. It all happened so very quickly. I had this feeling and I could not possibly go to sleep. Sounds strange, even to me…I still believed that God would heal her yet I had this feeling inside of me that would not let me rest. She was on so many meds and more were added for fevers and the rattle in her chest. Along with the Ativan, Benadryl and Dex it seemed as though they always giving her something. They monitored her temp almost constantly as it appeared to go up and down from minute to minute; reaching over 106 degrees and only falling below 102 occasionally. She was almost constantly moaning and because of that we finally had to continually increase her Ativan to 2 mg every three hours. They had increased her Dilaudid up to 18 mg every hour plus 6mg bumps every 6 minutes; giving her the potential to receive 78 mg of Dilaudid every hour of which we did end up doing. G’s last minutes went from labored, rattly breathing to quiet, peaceful breaths. The transition happened so quickly that we didn’t have time to even realize what was happening.
The sorrow and pain that I feel is devastating. G may “be in a better place where there is no more pain” but that doesn’t make it any easier for those she has left behind. I am thankful that she no longer has to feel the pain and suffering but that doesn’t stop me from wishing that I still had her with me.
I still cannot believe she is gone from this earth. Sometimes I can feel my insides shake with unshed tears. I wonder and am scared at what will take place after the hustle and bustle of the next couple of weeks. I know it will only get harder. I was lucky to be able to speak on the phone with my long-time therapist. She is so helpful and made herself available to me in the past week by phone and text for which I am so grateful for her support in this time. She knows how difficult this time is for me and I don’t know what I would do without that support right now. I still keep waiting for a funny text from my friend. I still keep wishing I could send her a text of, “we got this” one more time.
I miss you so much G!