Today is day 34 in the hospital. I am exhausted. I just wrapped Harlen's PICC line so he could shower. I am not a nurse. I have never wanted to be a nurse. I never cared to know what a PICC line is or what it does. He has a port too. It's in the right side of his chest. It is for blood or platelets or poison or whatever the hell they want to put in him. We were so excited for a clean bone marrow biopsy, but now his numbers won't come up and the Dr. today gave us little hope on what they could do next. Did I mention I am tired?
On top of it all we are trying from 70 miles away to compose the bull sale catalog. It is virtually impossible. My mind is so cloudy from stress and anxiety that I am having a hard time remembering numbers from one source to get to the other source. It is a long process on a normal year and takes most of my energy. I am sucking at it.
Harlen is down. He is talking like he is planning for an end result that I cannot put my head around. I can't think through this. I can't imagine a life without him in it, but if his numbers don't come up there isn't much more they can do for him. UGH The words came out of my mouth. My God it is your turn to step in. I know you aren't accustom to being told what to do, but I am tired of asking. I am tired of pleading. I need the father of my children in my life, in their life. I need a happy ending. I need what is left in my family to stay in this family.Was cancer your idea? Because I have to tell you if it was it blows.
There is hope and then it is crushed, then there is hope, but it is squashed, then there is real hope, but it was just pretend, then there really is hope, but it never was hope. It was just words, and words are empty and hollow and ugly.
I still have hope the Dr.'s are wrong because seriously when have they been right?
I believe I would rather have 2 of every species living amongst me.
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