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Received September 7, 2010 4:52 pm |
September 9
Waiting for the plane to leave early Thursday. On my way to see Julie… thoughts run through my head… is she in pain... will death take its time with her… what will happen to Elyssa... can Jason care for her... On another side I feel bad that I could not find her other children. That she will leave this world wondering about them. My worry is that I haven't done my job - makes me sad... I hope I do not let her down… her children… Been on the verge of tears since I spoke with Aunt Rita. Cried in silence as she told me through her tears that the hospital was sending Julie home to die. I am not sure if I can do this... Took a walk… the fog was rolling in... Was having problems breathing after talking with Aunt Rita. Numb with the reality... Julie is dying. That in days or weeks I won't see her again... hard…. Remember the first day I met her... will miss her… her sarcism... her voice... Julie this is it. This is what life has given you. What you have taken, and what you have left. May death be kind, not letting you linger with pain, suffering. Please know that I will do my best to tell your story… To find Rachael, Tommy, Ryan and Jordan... |
September 10
Yesterday was tough. Julie isn't good. Has to be on oxygen. She is still a slave to smoking. They turn off her air, she lights up, takes 3-4 puffs, gasps for air and waits for her air to be turned back on. During the day friends drop by. She would walk to the bathroom. Which is in a room Aunt Rita converted for Julie. She has a hospital bed - clean, white and portable toilet next to it. Julie refuses to sleep in the bed. She lays on the sofa in the living room. After friends leave she had Jason bring the portable toilet into the living room - Uncle Mike left... |
September 11
Julie was covered in sweat last night and Aunt Rita had to change her bed sheets twice in the 3 hours I was there. Her hospice nurse called this morning. Rita told of the problems last night - that she was unconscious today. Nurse said to expect her not to come back to - that this was it. Rita and I started to cry. Kinda embarrassed, she comforted me. We hugged and both cried… I think, I thought I was prepared... she is and has been so sick so many times for so long but… being told that she won't be back… that her final days will be her laying in bed struggling to catch whatever air she can through her mouth & nose… pushed me to let go of tears. Wondered if I had told her everything. Please let her die peaceful… please let her die fast… please let her… |
September 11
Elyssa kept running in to see Julie. At times crawling on the bed... laying next to her, talking to her, pushing her face with small hand saying “wake up, wake up…” At one point she slips under the covers. I am sure she knows something is wrong. Yesterday she did not want much to do with Julie. Today she can not leave her alone - running back and forth. |
September 14
Was a complicated day – tried to get my phone to get bars so Zach could talk to Julie. Finally got bars… one. Zach called her “mom.” He sounded like he had prepared all his words for days… honest… thoughtful. Calling her “mom” when he could not hear her. Julie raised her head the most she had all day. Using all her strength that kept her living to talk with her son. Repeating her words... she trembled… touched her face. She tried so hard to be there in the last moments for Zach. Zach said, “Thank you for having me...” He told her that his favorite time with her was when she kissed him on his head… he wants to be with her and never wanted to leave… he loved her... |
September 12
Day ended yesterday late. Stayed until Julie was put in the hospital bed… that she fought to be in. She holds onto today - sitting in the living room. Nodding off as conversations circle her. Gasping for air like a fish out of water. She wanted to go for a ride in the car with Uncle Mike but when she took the few steps from the chair to her portable toilet… she trembled and shook. Exhausted from life… from living. Aunt Rita put her in bed. Gave her morphine and covered her. I came this morning and Jason & Aunt Rita talked about how hard last night was. Julie fought them. Not wanting her pills. Spitting them out. Her face was covered with residue from the pills that never made it down her throat. Rita held Elyssa. Jason smoked. Blowing the smoke above our air. Talking about their night. I'm on a plane… left Julie… could not say goodbye. She was so out of it. |
September 11
Aunt Rita and Uncle Mike have asked for joint/partial custody of Elyssa. Aunt Rita talked to Julie and told Jason that's what Julie wants. Jason seems fine with it. He is thin… he has not had anti-virals in 3 months. The stress of caring for Julie is taking its toll on him. |
September 15
Jason’s having a hard time… broke down. Tired of everyone asking him if he is going to move… |
September 14
On a flight up to see Julie. Spoke with Aunt Rita last night. She said Julie has not eaten all day. I asked why. Rita said, “she refused.” I think she is done - that she is done living. |
September 16
Just left Julie. Sitting at the airport. Not sure what to feel. Closing my eyes I see her sunken cheeks and neck - swells and slips away with each breath. Not much came out of her today. Her body was sore. She has a big bedsore on her tailbone. Aunt Rita and Jason tried to put her on her side. But some time later she had pushed her self back. Left in the darkness. |
September 21
Last I was in Alaska was several days ago. Julie was bad. But, talked with Rita earlier and she said she is much worse. The nurse thinks she has hours or a day left. Just jumped on a flight. Difficult to say… I hope I am able to see her before she dies. It is so selfish… of me… to say… to think… I honestly think this is it… hard to believe. I am scared for Jason, Rita, Mike. And thought… last week for several days I fell asleep to your face in bed. With your eyes searching for death… |
September 23
Rita thinks it will be any day or hour. We both hope she dies soon. Feels awful to wish but true. She is in so much pain. Every time I leave her room and come back. I hope she has stopped living. Tough to watch someone die. No amount of morphine will make it better. Sitting here listening to Julie struggle to die. Chest rattling. A gasp with each breath. Her eyes rolling back inside of her - white’s facing me. With red viens scattering across them. |
Could not make a decision to save my life.
Can not decide what time or day to come back to see you. I am numb. Julie, not sure how you and I got here. I remember the first day I saw you, took your picture, and talked. You were so young, a new mom, who I want to get to know, document. Eighteen years later, I am watching you leave this world… suffering… trembling… and scared. I thank you… for your story, for your friendship and for letting me into your life. Not at all what I thought of 18 years ago. I will not let you down. I will tell your story. And find your children. Please, leave this world knowing that… |