"Curing is easy, but not curing is so hard, an impotence in the soul."
Sean Spence
And so, she lies beside me, her breathing a little laboured, but mainly from the nasal issue, not from fluid in the lungs. A while ago I tried some lightly seared beefsteak and she took a few bites - you could see the interest - but just maybe three pieces. I read over and over that cachexia takes many cancer patients - and somehow, this seems avoidable to me. But I can't get her to eat, and Frances says not to force the issue, not to ram Nutrical down her throat or stress her incessantly. I'm asking myself, does she want to go? I think not, and yet...the not eating. Is the body trying to not "feed' the *%@^$* tumour?
Yesterday she did lamb and babyfood, today almost nothing. I talk on the phone, I wash dishes and vaccuum and check in on everyone - Danny, cats, even the reptiles can probably feel my angst - but Lila is never off my mind. She gets up to reposition herself and seems to have a mild panic attack; when I lie down on her bed beside her, her brave little heart is just pounding. I lie there holding her for some time, breathing love into her on every possible level. The heart pounding slows down and she sleeps again. I go back to researching hospice care.
Grace hovers nearby, the house is filled with it.
A double rainbow appears over the forest out back, and I decide to grab a shot.
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