Today Kris learns whether her death is near or she gets a reprieve. I don't know if they are doing tests or a proceedure to determine if they can stretch the intestines. If they cannot, ihe best she can hope for is 6 months of intense pain before she leaves me. Sje wants to come home to die. I can't say no.

Onetta's boys came home last weekend.
she is still non-responsive. The doctors are going to try to take her off the ventilator. They won't put her back on it. Her body...

I'm feel numb. I'm trying to come to terms with my daughter's impending death. We are conditioned to understand our parents and those of their generatin will die before us. But we are npt conditioned from yeuth that our children may bide befor us, too.

It seems like this started about 1987 when I wnet home to care for dad before he died. I stayed with mom another nine months and took care of her becuase she was a mess. The old man made me promise on his death bed that I would lake...

I had three sleep since about 8am Friday morning. A catnap is not un-common; it's the norm for me a couple of reasons. I have a skin disease that is most active betwen sunset and sunrise, up. at night. Not only does it itch all night, the itch location changes frequently. Sometimes it is in and ear, and someiimes on both ankles. In three years I have not discovered any spot that can't itch. nor have I discovered the maxinum number of combinations it can itch. Every dat us a syroruse, right now it...

When you, a total stranger,. called me your friend, it brought tears to my eyes. It it uplifted my weary soul as much as if you were by my side. It gave me the courage to carry on the fight to the finish knowing in the end I ride a tiger I am afraid to stay on, but I cannot get off. For if what the ancients say is true our destiny was written long ago before either of us was a seed in our mother's belly.

Dying is a cruel trick to play on a vibrant, full of life.soul.
...

I never had a diary or a journal. I never thought I would ever write adout dying either, but here I am, and I do not know where to start. It's been an eleven year journey that has not ended. There are days when I don't know whether I should laugh or cry, so I don't do either. But I've learned nobody wants to talk about it, not even doctors. I've learned to be my own support system while I deal with doctors, nospitals, nurses, pharmacies and the inevitable.

I'm angry. The dying were...