August 24, 2010
This is hard to do. My stomach is sick most of the time, even without eating, and my energy is such that the oxygen needs to be on all the time. I sleep a lot. There is the night voice that comes and says, “Too bad you’re in hospice; before, you could get some red blood and feel better for a while”. Then I am awake and the rational thought returns; there is no other route selected for me.
Think of all the people one sees going out and about in a wheelchair, oxygen bottle near, the nose piece in place. What other lives lie behind them? Last week, John-paul got the wheel chair, the oxygen, the dog’s leash, the Mama and the dog all put into the car, and we drove over to the walking trail that is near town. Alphie thought he had gone to heaven, and behaved accordingly for the first moments that we were in this new space, but then settled into the walk. I had on a sun hat and sun glasses, so I was pretty certain that I would not be recognized. I do and I don’t wish to be seen – One has to be brave about going anywhere because you are no longer who you were before. We met a young woman whizzing along on her bike, and as she passed, she flung “Hi, Connie” over her shoulder – perhaps the good looking man pushing me and the great chocolate retriever loping along gave hints of identity.
The illustrator is traveling this week, so we must do with words only
