bk won.
she's still with us. mostly. but her tumor is dying insider of her. literally. dying.
she beat it.
she will not die of cancer.
cancer will die of my friend's life.
_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_
i saw the scans. it's both remarkable and rediculous.
she doesn't have a hip bone anymore. it's all tumor.
at least 2/3 of her pelvic cavity is tumor.
and the tumor is decaying inside of her.
her oncologist and i sat there absolutely drop jawed.
how did she manage to stand upright for so long?
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
another doctor came into the room where she was admitted wednesday for "a possible fistula/abscess/infection that originated from an old sacral wound." it exploded like the painted pots at yellowstone. clay and gushing. like nothing i had ever seen before. not MRSA. not bowel. not soft tissue.
something completely foreign. even to the doctors.
_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_
there's nothing they can do, really.
some IV antibiotics.
slap a colostomy bag on it to collect the putrid discharge.
keep her comfortable.
and she looks at me:
"i just want it to be over, lor."
"then cash in your chips and run like hell, baby. just let go."
...
a few hours later, made easier by a nip of the home meds stored in the drawer at her bedside, she looks over at me to tell me about the floating. it's dosconcerting. her brow is furrowed. she's unsure.
"you don't like it?"
"no."
"oh." ... "i guess i can understand how it might feel scary, at first. unstable. ... until you realize that letting go isn't falling uncontrollably."
[a few moments later.]
"i guess it's okay as long as we stay in this general area." [she gestures out the window in front of her towards the marina we can see from her room over lake michigan.]
"... yeah? alrighty then, babe. whatever you say. whatever you want."
i return my attention to my laptop screen. maybe she won't notice the tears.
_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_
i call her mom and she tells me the electric bed is at the house. the ambulace is there to take bk home.
her husband calls to tell me the hospice nurse is there to go over the IV antibioitc drip. she is comfortable. glad to be home. her mom managed to pick up the stomach flu. can i be there monday and tuesday? i can't. i have the baby.
they'll figure it out.
i go back to knit, purl, increase, decrease. a habbit to bide the time behind the desk on another floor on another night through another moment of this journey.
_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
i'm glad i got away. i'm glad i left.
i'm grateful that for ten days i was in f'ing guatemala with one of the most important people in my life, who spared no expense to push me, even when i told him i couldn't handle any more effort.
maybe next time he will be able to tell me what he needs, too.
and now i know why it is you all shake your head at me without saying a word.
...
alrighty, kiddos. nesicito banolate.
con carina,
abrasos.
yorlor
she's still with us. mostly. but her tumor is dying insider of her. literally. dying.
she beat it.
she will not die of cancer.
cancer will die of my friend's life.
_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_#_
i saw the scans. it's both remarkable and rediculous.
she doesn't have a hip bone anymore. it's all tumor.
at least 2/3 of her pelvic cavity is tumor.
and the tumor is decaying inside of her.
her oncologist and i sat there absolutely drop jawed.
how did she manage to stand upright for so long?
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_
another doctor came into the room where she was admitted wednesday for "a possible fistula/abscess/infection that originated from an old sacral wound." it exploded like the painted pots at yellowstone. clay and gushing. like nothing i had ever seen before. not MRSA. not bowel. not soft tissue.
something completely foreign. even to the doctors.
_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_
there's nothing they can do, really.
some IV antibiotics.
slap a colostomy bag on it to collect the putrid discharge.
keep her comfortable.
and she looks at me:
"i just want it to be over, lor."
"then cash in your chips and run like hell, baby. just let go."
...
a few hours later, made easier by a nip of the home meds stored in the drawer at her bedside, she looks over at me to tell me about the floating. it's dosconcerting. her brow is furrowed. she's unsure.
"you don't like it?"
"no."
"oh." ... "i guess i can understand how it might feel scary, at first. unstable. ... until you realize that letting go isn't falling uncontrollably."
[a few moments later.]
"i guess it's okay as long as we stay in this general area." [she gestures out the window in front of her towards the marina we can see from her room over lake michigan.]
"... yeah? alrighty then, babe. whatever you say. whatever you want."
i return my attention to my laptop screen. maybe she won't notice the tears.
_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_@_
i call her mom and she tells me the electric bed is at the house. the ambulace is there to take bk home.
her husband calls to tell me the hospice nurse is there to go over the IV antibioitc drip. she is comfortable. glad to be home. her mom managed to pick up the stomach flu. can i be there monday and tuesday? i can't. i have the baby.
they'll figure it out.
i go back to knit, purl, increase, decrease. a habbit to bide the time behind the desk on another floor on another night through another moment of this journey.
_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
i'm glad i got away. i'm glad i left.
i'm grateful that for ten days i was in f'ing guatemala with one of the most important people in my life, who spared no expense to push me, even when i told him i couldn't handle any more effort.
maybe next time he will be able to tell me what he needs, too.
and now i know why it is you all shake your head at me without saying a word.
...
alrighty, kiddos. nesicito banolate.
con carina,
abrasos.
yorlor
posted by yorlor at 18:44
2 Comments:
okay i'm glad you updated, but i'm like way confused.
is bk okay or no?
this tumor and this infection that she has...what's going on? this part confuses me.
i know i know.
i'm glad you had a good time in guatemala with your friend.
still sending prayers your way yl. i'm thinking they're still much needed for all of you.
Peace and Blessings to you Lor.
Blessings for traveling the journey with Becky and Peace to see you through.
Another night in Ohio.
Too much to think about sometimes so the knit and purl become mantras of their own.
Blessings of peace and love to you.
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