April 8, 2010
Thursday, 9:06 P.M.
Home
It's a terrible thing to say and not a thought that is outwardly expressed very often, but this cancer thing literally becomes a death watch. I am watching the fading of a light in the vigil I keep with my friend. The transformation from vital, healthy, independent, feisty, talented, funny, sometimes unbearably arrogant woman to very dependent patient has been swift, far swifter than I had hoped. Her moments of lucidity are becoming fewer and farther between; as are her waking ones. When I enter her room in the middle of the night, I may find her crying quietly to herself and when she is aware that I am there, she will tell me "I can't do this anymore". I have gotten beyond scoffing when she speaks this way. No longer do I urge her to be strong and fight. I simply sit by her side, brushing back the hair from her very drawn, grey pallored face, cover the very thin, fragile body with another comforter, and tell her, "I know."
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