Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

He's out of the hospital

11:54 PM, 9/10/2008 .. Posted in There's no comfort here .. 2 comments .. Link

New medications, old ones adjusted, warned about this, advised with that.

Even back at work, trying valiantly to put in a full day's effort because, as he says, 'What else can I do?'.

Now he has told his dad, his best friend and his ex-wife. Next comes the heart-rending task of telling his kids. I am very glad he is doing this because children do need to know; they understand a lot more than adults might think and the feeling of betrayal would be huge.

It is entirely possible that he might he might just die drifting off in his sleep. Or by a sudden, massive heart attack. I suppose I hope for the former. I don't want him to be scared. I wish I was there, holding him in my arms when he dies. It could be soon, it could be in a few months. God, I love this man.

And he makes me laugh so much, still. I told him about the death therapist (oh, ok, grief counsellor, if you must) and her saying "Now we are coming to the end of our time together" and me bursting out laughing, so very inappropriate in that tastefully sombre room full of restrained help for the bereaved. He thought that was funny, too.

Then, somehow, we got into a conversation that turned into the frankly lascivious. He started to describe all of the little things he remembered exactly about my body and that he has very intense sense memories of me.

I chastised him because, well, surely it can't be good for his heart.

me: would it be okay?

him: bad for the health????

me: laughs

him: how could it get worse???

me: sorrry!!!!!!!

him: 'died while jerking off' on my toe tag'!!!!

me: god, that made me laugh so hard. First time I've laughed for weeks
sorry my darling

oh God, you are still one of the funniest men I know

I think our sex life is finished, at least together. Farewell mis-spelt words of passion in frantic cybersex. Goodbye misdialled numbers and irate people on speed dial from dropped mobiles in phone sex. Adieu hours of slow sensuous lovemaking or frantic fevered lust in person. We'll have to rely on memories. But there are a lot of those.

So we'll talk. We'll online chat when he's at work and I'll stay up all night if I have to do so and sleep during the day. We'll talk on the phone if we can afford the bills.

Our love affair has been largely conducted through words from its inception so it makes sense that its ending operates the same way. It makes me so much happier just to be able to talk to him like this. Him, too.

Regrets? Precious few. At least not things that I could change.

I'm sorry I didn't marry him but that was sensible. His medical bills are (and are going to continue to be) sky-high and as his widow I would be chased by the medical companies. All of those bills and yet they still wouldn't cover him for a heart transplant which is the only thing that might save his life. Well, might have done. It won't now. He wouldn't survive the surgery. I've never seen anybody in a first world country die before from lack of money. I mean, I've seen health care delays and dying from being on waiting lists but not out and out dying because the person can't afford to pay.

And on that cheery note, let's away.

(Makes me laugh to think that this is actually one of the cheerier posts I am writing these days!)

Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

He's out of the hospital

Don't get ahead of yourself....

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