Hospital Thoughts

From Lynda's Retrospective...

Lynda is stable but in hospital again. She was admitted this time because of swelling in her legs. The ultrasound was negative for blot clots, but we are still waiting for CAT scan results to see if the cause might be the cancer. Whatever the cause of this latest debilitation, it's incidental to the larger downward trend, and it is just one humiliation more in what has now become nearly a year-long retreat from dignity and even sanity.

I now know, of course, that whatever I expected to encounter in these last months of Lynda's life were absolute chimeras, imaginary constructions of a death mask and the dimly lit room that had more to do with cinematic memories than the actual rather unpleasant and often disgusting derogation that is the death spiral that has gripped our lives of the last ten months.

That said, and re-read, it sounds melodramatic, which is it decidedly not. If anything, it is mundane and oh-so-common, a fact one is reminded of when visiting the hospital. O, right, I remind myself, this happens to everyone, and the thought is sometimes comforting, sometimes frightening, and always a little depressing, which is why I try not to talk about it and why, ironically, I am writing about it here.

For those that might occasion to read this, keep in mind that these are nothing more than raw therapy notes . They may provide an insight into my thoughts and feelings, but those are of consequence only to me, so the reader should in no way be interpreted as a journal of factual accounting, as I have no intent other than the obvious selfish desire to speak my thoughts without fear of anything but self-censure. Would that I had a winswept promonitory from which to shout my opinions and receive at least the howling erasure of my self expressions; better than the less demonstrative but certainly more nihilistic silence that comes with speaking to oneself over the internet.