Balance. Hard to come by. Finding the right balance to get my neck comfortable on the bed, finding the balance so the mucus doesn't clog me. Finding the balance between drugs and comfort to stop pain - that part's easier - and maintain my mind. That's the hard part. Would be so easy to lie there and just drift, but I don't want to. This isn't pleasant. None of this process is. I don't talk or write much about the tumors. I can't see what's going on there because it's the back of my neck. From how they're described, I'm grateful! They are tunneling holes through my neck into my skull. (And also to the surface of the neck. By the time Marla passed, there was a hole in her neck that could fit at least two golf balls.) Just writing that gives me shivers. They're between my brain and my skull. Not in the actual brain itself. That's good - that was one of my deepest fears! I hope I don't have to experience that.
My absolute 'worst way to die' scenario is being burnt to death. I have a horror of it (Marla's grandmother lost a sister to a fire when they were both young, perhaps that's where this came from?). Hope they make sure I'm really dead before they cremate me! Put a stake thru my heart or something!
Flowers, glorious, ephemeral, transient flowers. Intense colors, delicious aromas, all the shapes you could imagine. I always thought tulips were boring. So plain, not much scent, just dull little plain janes. Diane bought a pot because they're her favorite (I told Marla that small carnations are my favorite, which I had bought along with the tulips. It's okay, she confused the two.). It has been a revelation watching them. First the buds were barely peeking through the leaves. They slowly got bigger and peeked up farther. Being home with them all day, watching them grow and open, has been a lot more entertaining than you'd think. Lovely pink ones (I do love me some pink!). They got large, then opened up, and spread. The clean lines look elegant rather than plain. Today the petals are starting to spread. Much more interesting than just glancing at them in the yard twice a day! And don't compare that to watching grass grow.
Roses are the Queen of Flowers. I love the messy, sloppy, floppy ones that are pools of heavenly sweetness (the neighbors have the space between their driveway and Marla's driveway planted with huge rose bushes that are covered with roses this time of year. Marla must have loved that.). The haughty ones you get in formal bouquets are beautiful, but somehow cold. They go well with evening dress, candlelight and silver, and make a lovely sight with the accouterments of wealth. - This isn't what I want to say. I can tell I'm drifting badly. Better stop and try again when I've got more clear."
(This was Marla's last entry. She died on 4/9/18. Between this entry and her death, she had started refusing food. She wanted to be done with it. The nurse said she could increase the meds so Marla would be more or less asleep when the time came, and Marla agreed. I think everyone, including Marla, knew the jig was up, except for me. It shocked me when she left her body. And yes, I put a cat on her chest and wrapped her arms over it, just like she had wanted.)