Last week Sandra stopped her treatment, she’s now getting only pain relief and the bare minimum of medication necessary to prevent nasty complications. She’s not eating much anymore and also drinking less, getting more tired and weak each day. Even so, it’s hard to say when it will all be over. Her doctors cannot say with any certainty how long it will take for her to die this way: it could be within the coming, it could take several more. This uncertainty is the worst aspect of the whole process, both for her, waking up each day still alive and in pain and for me too as, crude as it may seem, I would like it all to be over too. Every moment with her I’ll treasure, but the waiting and uncertainty is eating at me too. We’ve done what we can to deal with the aftermath, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.
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It has begun
Sandra has had a final talk with her doctors this morning, they’ve taken out her central line and therefore stopped the antibiotics and extra fluids she was getting through it. We don’t know how long it will take for her to …. cross over to the western lands, but the end game has begun.
I’m not happy about it, but I do understand it. And anyway, at least we got to celebrate her birthday yesterday: a proper Sunday roast with all the trimmings.
EDIT: speaking of that Sunday roast, a big shoutout to Hoopman Irish Pub on Leidseplein. We had no luck in finding a pub or restaurant which could cater something like this until my brother’s girlfriend rang them up and they immediately said they would be more than happy to do so. They quoted a price of some 170 euros to provide a meal for twelve, but when it was actually time to pay they said it was on them. There was no reason for them to do that, I would’ve been more than happy to pay for what was an excellent meal, but they went through all that trouble just because they wanted to show some kindness to strangers. So erm, if you’re ever in Amsterdam, look me up and we’ll have a pint there.
Least I could do.
(As somebody whose sentimental side mostly comes out through music, Fairport Convention’s “Meet on the Ledge” always had the chills running down my spine, but this last year it never fails to choke me up.)
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
For those who want it pure, without the distraction of Rick Wakeman’s music.
She’s going to die
Justin Hayward’s “Forever Autumn” may be naff, but it sums up my feelings quite well at the moment. She’s going to die and I can’t help her and I’ll be alone when she does. Sandra has fought long and hard for three long years, but she’s tired of fighting and can’t go on. She wants to go on her own terms as soon as possible, now that she still has a choice to die with dignity. It’s tearing me up inside and can’t help but not want this to happen. I want her to stay with me, not leave me alone, but I don’t want her in pain anymore either.
I want to make her happy so much and if that means she has to die when she wants to, than I’m going to support her. But I don’t know if I can hack living without her again.
I’ll just have to cope by fleeing into power fantasies about groups of men in uniform fighting each other for meaningless honours only understandable to insiders; yes, I’ll have to watch more football.
Books read September
Somewhat of a fiction heavy month this was, largely because I hadn’t gotten any books from the library recently, my main source of non-fiction. But I was also in a mood where I justed wanted to read a good story. The gender balance is a bit out of whack this month: seven books by male writers, four by female writers. Must do better.
The Gabble and Other Stories — Neal Asher
A collection of short stories set in his Polity universe. Not the worst way to get introduced to the full Asher experience.
Rule 34 — Charlie Stross
You already know that this is the sequel to Halting State. You also know that this, like the original is written in the second person, which costs you little trouble to adapt to, but others might struggle with it. You also think that reading a review this way would get old fast.
The Ghost Brigades — John Scalzi
Sequel to Old Man’s War, starring Jane Sagan who we first met in the last third of the previous book. Fun adventure sf, with a bit more of a look behind the curtains of the OMW universe showing that things aren’t quite as black and white as the first book showed.
The Last Colony — John Scalzi
The final book in the trilogy, teaming up John Perry and Jane Sagan in defence of the new colony they lead.
Cryoburn — Lois McMaster Bujold
The latest Miles Vorkosigan novel is a fun adventure, but almost a throwback to the earliest books in the series and missing Ekaterin in this is criminal.
Needle in a Timestack — Robert Silverberg
Fun collection of short stories. Nothing spectacular.
Invader — C. J. Cherryh
Sequel to Foreigner, sharing many of its flaws, mainly that the protagonist is fairly passive and in the dark about what’s going on.
Be My Enemy — Christopher Brookmyre
Another one of Jack Parlabane novels. Jack is invited on a survival/team building exercise weekend up at an isolated Scottish castle turned hotel, to which Jack looks forward if only to pour scorn on it in his newspaper column later. Then the survival aspects turns out to be more pertinent than expected…
10,000 Light-Years from Home — James Tiptree Jr
This month’s entry in my Year of reading Women project. A very good collection, made better by the realisation that these are not even Tiptree’s best stories.
All Fun and Games until Somebody Loses an Eye — Christopher Brookmyre
When somebody tries to kidnap Jane Fleming’s granddaughter, it turns out her fitness lessons are not a complete waste and she’s good for more than babysitting…
Temeraire — Naomi Novik
All you need to know about this: Horatio Hornblower, with dragons. I was going to finish that Richard Miles history of Carthage, but this took only two pages to suck me in.