Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

There's so much I want to say

Ron and I spent a lot of the night being nauseatingly goo-ey with each other via g-chat, him supposedly working and me doing anything but sleeping. We revisited the early stages of our romance, spoke about the now, talked a little about the then and skirted lightly around the subject of my future without him.

He even told me about a resolution to a situation that had been ongoing for a while and it clearly made him very happy. He's tieing up his loose ends, whether he consciously realises it or not, and I am very grateful for the attitude of the other person. I don't know whether they realise how very sick he is but its giving him closure, so I thank them very much for this.

And of course, I spent a lot of time crying. I can't help it: not huge sobs, just an on-going welling up of salt. I wasn't crying whilst I was talking to him but I've been crying all day today on and off. It's not feeling sorry for myself; it's just that I am going to miss him so much and it seems almost impossible that I'll never get to touch him again, never get to hold his hand, or kiss him.

I've spent a lot of time reading about his condition, desperately trying to find some loophole here or there but there really isn't one. Years ago the statistic was that  the majority of patients died within 3 years of the onset of symptoms. He's had less than that but, even with drug therapy, matters aren't going to improve.  Death will be as a result of congestive heart failure, most likely.

In severe cardiomyopathy, which is starting to manifest itself now, the symptoms become more apparent and he shows them in the form of cold and clammy extremities, shortness of breath, blueness to the fingers, toes and skin, generalized weakness, dizziness, and syncopated heart rhythm (not beating regularly on the left side).

Understand that he's told me very little about all of the symptoms; they are just what I have observed and what I've read about. I haven't actually asked him too much directly because I don't want to upset him more than I have to and stress exacerbates the condition. But I want to know.

One of the sympotms which has turned up from my reading is the patient having a sense of impending doom, in severe myocardial disease. It's nothing that can be intrinsically measured but invariably indicates a progression of the disease. I didn't know this before but several times Ron has told me of this feeling and, looking back, each time it has corresponded with a deterioration. I haven't told him. I don't think I will. He doesn't read here, although sometimes I'll send him a copy of a post here or there.

But I want to know. How will it end?

Will it hurt him? Will he just drift away in his sleep, dreaming of those who love him?

I wish that so much for him.

You know what they say. That you can bear your own pain but having to bear that of somebody you love that much crucifies you.

Maybe he knows how the ending of his life will probably be but I don't feel like I want to bring that dark spectre up unless he does first. I want our time together to be as happy as I can make it.

Besides, there's so little time.  So much to cram into our words; a lifetime of love into such a short space.

For us, there has never been enough time. I suspect there never would have been.

Untitled Comment

9:56 AM, 11/10/2008 .. Posted by Suzy

Sometimes I think that people know, in their gut, when something is going to happen. Something big, like death.

I really wish I had some words of wisdom or (unsolicited) advice. But I've got nothing. I don't know anything to say to help you survive this. All I can say is that I'm thinking of you and Ron and sending little virtual hugs your way.

Untitled Comment

11:59 AM, 11/10/2008 .. Posted by kat

Thanks, Suzy.

Believe it or not, it does help to know that there are people out there reading this. It makes me not so very alone.