Update for January 29, 2005
So far, for me, yesterday has been the worst day. Yesterday was the day the doctors basically told me Laura is going to die. I had to leave work to be with her because I couldn’t stand it. I think I cried to myself most of the night, preventing me from getting much sleep. I talked to my mother over the phone about it for a few hours last night, got a lot off of my chest, and that made me feel better. I don’t think I could have really talked about with anyone else, except for maybe Laura.
I got up today to do some work with my father to make some extra money. Was about a seven hour job, and it helped keep my mind free of clutter some. After that, I came home, showered, and went to the hospital. My mother came into town from Indiana today to help out with things, and for basic support. So, when I got to the hospital, she was there.
I guess this leads to the important update. They had Laura on, seemingly, quite a bit less sedation medicine. She still seemed completely out of it, but they said she could hear. So, my mother and the nurses left me alone with her for a while. I was a total mess, but I told her how much I love her, how important she is. I thanked her being a part of my life and how generally wonderful she is. She was very heavily sedated, but there is no question she heard me. She started moving, and squirming a lot, and she started crying. For those of you that asked, I passed on all messages of thoughts and love to her. I told her a bunch of personal shit that I had to tell her, about my feelings and the future, etc.
She got a bit too worked up, and since we were done for the time being, they increased the sedation medicine, so she is more or less asleep again now. Since I am exhausted, and since the next few days will be the worst, I decided to leave.
Before I left, I talked to her doctor again. The general update is that while her lungs have been improving with the help of the steroids all week, over night, they got worse. They had to up the oxygen levels and breathing pressure on the respirator. This means that her last hope is gone. The only hope she had was for her lungs to stabalize this weekend. The doctor also told me they more or less figured out what is causing the breathing failure in the left lung. She has pneumonia like symptoms because the Hodgkin’s disease has spread the other lung, and is causing the breathing to fail there. Also, her kidneys and other organs are starting to not function correctly.
I expect her to survive through Monday, and have agreed with the doctor to wait until then to make any decisions. At which point, I will have to decide to take her off of the respirator and let her pass comfortably with closure. I know many of you have expressed that there might be a hope, and the doctors could be wrong. Trust me, I’ve been with her through this whole thing, and know almost more about the details of her case than some of the doctors… they are not wrong. It is important to me that before she passes that she gets to speak her last thoughts to me. I know it was devouring her today not to be able to speak back to me as I told her how much she means to me. At this point, her passing is inevitable, and to have the proper closure in this situation is… utterly important. I can’t deny that to her, no matter what.
I assure you, no one hates this situation more than I do. My grief and sorrow are immeasurably profound. Laura is the most beautiful thing in the world to me, and there is little doubt that this will be the worst thing I ever have to go through in my life. And I feel more badly for her than I do myself. Laura has struggled in the past with relationships, romantic ones as well as platonic ones, and us finding each other, as she tells me repeatedly, is one of the best things to happen to her. “Leaving” me was, as she also told me, her greatest fear about the whole situation. Our relationship was a very good one. It was almost as if two old souls who have always known each other reunited. I would carve out my heart for her, if it would save her.
For those of you that tried calling and I didn’t answer, I do appreciate the gesture. You are a great bunch of people, and I appreciate everything. I will never forget it. I apologize that I am not answering, but right now, talking about it is difficult. I need to just save my strength for the next few days, which will be very trying. And, so you know, I am doing ok. I am… completely devistated, and my grief is… I cannot even begin to describe it. But, I have family here now, and I do feel a bit better having been able to communicate to her. I will let you know what happens.