Now I feel exhausted in my entire body. I’m not in acute pain, just tired. In the back of my throat a sensation of nausea that could be a response to hunger or related to the onset of the paralysis in the throat muscles. I can imagine already longing for the big sleep. It won’t take me by surprise. I’m writing now mainly to record the process for the benefit of my fellow sufferers.
Yesterday, March 18, I went to the YMCA. James Freeman accompanied me and helped me get dressed and undressed. I was in a wheelchair. I can still walk down the ramp and stay upright unassisted in belly-deep water. I marched only six times against the current in the therapeutic pool. Today I can feel what it took out of me. James is a good guy with the necessary strength. When I struggled to get up out of the wheelchair to dress, he just hoisted me up with one arm and pulled up my pants with the other. Veronika wouldn’t have had the strength to do that. Her kindness, however, has the magical power to ease suffering.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings.
The husband of a former colleague came by on Sunday with a book (After) about end of life experiences. I’m not especially interested in or impressed by this topic, but I could see that my visitor who is already in his 80s was very excited about it. I tried to react as graciously as I could, but my use of the word “claims” (“the author claims that those affected underwent a character transformation to the good”) was enough to trigger his angry authoritarian impulse. This retired pastor who I assumed showed up in his pastoral role in order to console me in fact came to seek consolation from me. Did I fail in my resolve to be more empathetic with others ? James Freeman whom I barely know displayed a more convincing compassion than the self-centered clergyman that I’ve known for 30 years. James is a Black man who did extensive prison time before his sentence was overturned. My death prognosis made him flinch, perhaps the same way that the slam of a prison door might startle him unpleasantly.
Signed,
Andrew (Weeks)
Normal Thoughts 