Monday, October 8, 2007

Marbridge Thoughts

From Lynda's Retrospective...


Well, Lynda has now been moved to Marbridge Villa, which is a skilled nursing home in Manachaca (in far south Austin, but quite near to our house). It is in a rural setting, with a view of horses in a pasture out the window, if Lynda were inclined to look out, which she has not for at least the first two days. Those days were Saturday and Sunday, and she was so heavily sedated that she was unable to do more than acknowledge my presence briefly on arrival.

I visited her twice yesterday; in the morning to see where and how she was, then in the evening to deliver the clothes and pictures and other personal effects I brought for her from home. Both times she was only just conscious and then only for a brief moment. I think she knew that I was there, but I don't think she she who I was. I watched with sad fascination as she slept, wondering how we got here and how it will end. I want it to end and yet, how can I? Most difficult, and it's probably easier for me than her, because her mental state is so tortured by these latest physical and psychic twists and turns. I'm still young enough to take it; she's just had enough.

So, the nurse phoned me first thing today to let me know that they hope to wake her up and get her out of the bed today. I left clothes and a comb and her barets out on the side table, so perhaps if they dress and groom her she'll feel a little more human. I can't say I know why I think this might be a good thing, since it would be nice if she simply slept peacefully (from the exterior) until the end, but then I do miss her already and wish I could tell her again how much I love her. And, come to think of it, I haven't actually said goodbye. I guess this will come at a time when it's too late for her to actually hear me, because the utterance is too final for me to deliver just yet.

I have to finish what work I can today, then I'll head over to see what I can do for her. I suspect it won't be much. If she's awake, I would like to read to her. I've been reading aloud from the Atlantic while she sleeps and I think she enjoys just hearing the sound of my voice. I've not read aloud since my children were little and I'd forgotten how visceral the pleasure is. I even learn something from reading the Atlantic as opposed to the thirtieth re-reading of "Wet Cats"!

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