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There’s always a Price . . .

March 19, 2010

27th Dec 2009

In the end, it was a hollow victory.

It was a triumph of sorts – an achievement the doctors no doubt thought impossible when they told Mrs D back in July that we had reached the end and she now had only days left to live and to make arrangements to see friends/relatives as soon as possible before it was too late.

And in truth, in the days leading up to Xmas her health deteriorated so much and so rapidly that there were times that it seemed she would not make it through to the next day never mind Xmas. But she rallied – as she has on so many occasions before. When Xmas day arrived she made one final effort. She sat at the head of the table and listened to the excited voices all talking at once. She didn’t have the strength or the will to eat any of the food in front of her, or to talk. But for an hour or two she soaked up the sights and sounds of her family enjoying the day, gathering some more precious memories to store away and be brought out again and replayed as she lay in her bed back home.

Perhaps she’s replaying those memories now as she lies there sleeping – that ‘little death’ a welcome reprieve from the pain that wracks her body when awake until the morphine gives her a few hours of blessed relief in oblivion? For those precious memories have cost Mrs D dearly. In the 2 days since Xmas what little strength she had has left her. Her breathing so slow and shallow, she looks peaceful now as I watch over her – checking for sign of life, and quietly weeping – fearful that the moment will come and go and I will not be there to hold her when she finally breathes her last

4 Comments leave one →
  1. March 19, 2010 1:00 am

    [originally posted 2nd Jan 2010]

    Duncs, I feel so much for you, the pain you are going through as well!!
    There’s not much I can say to you anymore, but you know that you are in my thoughts almost constantly!
    I’m sending you my biggest, warmest hug!

  2. March 19, 2010 1:40 am

    [originally posted 2nd Jan 2010]

    I know you said that words were irrelevant, but you’ll just ave to put up with them, because I can’t write nothing….
    Every morning when I turn the computer on, I have this weird feeling – a mixture of fear and sadness.
    Although we’ve never met, you’re closer to me than some of my physical friends, and on one hand I want Anita to be around for you for as long as possible, but on the other I want your state of uncertainty and her suffering to cease.
    As Percy would say, ‘Peace and Light’.

  3. March 19, 2010 2:28 am

    I recall pieces of this story, written around the holidays. I’m so sorry, it sounds as if the precious memories of her brave struggle brought equal amounts of pain.

  4. March 21, 2010 11:53 pm

    To read this after the fact is no less painful. You are an inspiration, duncs, for many people.

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