Mark's home. I went in to get him after I got the kids off to school. He was snoring so loudly that I could hear him out into the hall! His heart rate is still high--around 100, even when he's asleep. And he's panting and shaky and all shades of purple and gray. But his rhythm is regular enough to come home.
I feel such anger this morning, such a feeling of desperation. I had a friend (who happens to be a therapist) tell me recently that anger is just fear in disguise. I don't feel afraid though. I feel helpless and hopeless and so, so tired. I find myself wondering today if modern medicine is always such a wonderful thing. It's a two edged sword, I guess. Without it, he would not be here at all, and neither would our three beautiful children. But now? When there's no hope of a cure or even of significant improvement? When the procedures and medications are just keeping him sick and in pain that much longer? Are we really doing him a favor? I don't know.
No comments:
Post a Comment