Peg's condition is changing

...and it can change on a dime in any direction.

Last night was rough. She kept waking up all through the night, so she started the day exhausted. Today all she's eaten are a few nibbles off a popsicle. Pretty dehydrated, not able to take in much water either.

When I came back from my ride this afternoon, I looked at the thermometer our friend Phyllis had gotten out for Peggy and thought, "oh, shit." She was spiking a fever of 99.7. She had the dry heaves earlier this evening but the combo of Compazine, Tylenol and morphine has let her rest for awhile.

I don't want to alarm anyone, but this is definitely a change.

Abbie is the new Normal

I need to be less reactive to the ups and downs. Should be used to them by now...but they're very hard to accept. Peg rallied later today, we hung out as a family, and watched "Glee." A long way from the pit I found myself in this morning, when it felt like she was slipping away while she was in a deep sleep.

Helped to hang out with our friend Bruce this afternoon. As we were walking his dog, we were bombarded simultaneously with a wondrously huge whiff of honeysuckle. We turned to each other and smiled.

"Nice, huh?" said Bruce. Yes, on many levels. I felt like I had just shaken off a deep sleep.

When I was a kid, I was imprinted early (as an odd duck) with a preference for being alone.  A combination of having a good imagination and not "fitting in."  It's a model that's not serving me well these days.

Something shifted today for Peg and me. An awareness that Abbie Normal is now the new normal, and that it's not helpful for either of us for me to be freaking out.

Peg is not freaking out. She's just freaking amazing.

Gloomy day + update

The hospice folks let us down for the first time. I've been taking fluid off Peg's belly every other day in small quantities to keep her comfortable. It's a one-time use plastic bag that clips into a port coming off her abdomen.

They haven't restocked the bags, so last night I pre-emptively took off twice what we usually do. It's really knocked Peg for a loop. Yesterday she was up getting things done...but today she immediately crawled into the living room bed and passed out.

She's having trouble getting food past her esophagus, so she hasn't eaten today either.

Realized I'm not as well put together as I thought I was. My anxiety level is through the roof. Feels like I'm wearing an iron jacket.

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12:30pm

This morning was a wake-up call for me that I need to be around friends, not just take off on solo bike rides.  Picking up our friend Bruce in a few minutes, headed to Starbucks.  Peg is up and ate some soup. I'm feeling less anxious than I was this morning. Taking it a half day at a time.

Our new nightly ritual

I read aloud to Peg from Sacre Bleu, the new novel from one of our favorite authors, Christopher Moore (Lamb, You Suck, Bloodsucking Fiends). Brilliant, funny, profane and damn, we can't wait until tomorrow night when we can crack it open again.

Peg has gained back a pound. More energy and appetite as well. Hospice is working a whole hell of a lot better than chemotherapy.

We're prone to wacky (but real) conversations these days. Tonight we were discussing the garage, a.k.a. the "Man Cave." I've got all kinds of tools, props and projects in progress out there, but Peg and I have always had an agreement that no matter what was going on in the Man Cave, the Prius would have a safe and secure berth every night. She contended that after she was gone, it would be wall-to-wall Man Cave. But I assured her that I would not subject our daughter to burning her fingers on the steering wheel in August or having to scrape frost off the windshield at 6:30am before school in February. The Prius has a home there at least until Zoë heads off to college.

Call the guards! We've got a runner!

Our long-time neighbor Sharon, at the end of the block, called Peg this morning to invite her to see her newly bloomed irises. We drove over, deployed the walker, and Peg was up for the full garden tour. Half an hour in 90 degree heat and enjoying every minute.

This morning Peg was motoring around way before I got up, making her own breakfast and meditating. She's crazy-skinny, but seems to have found her second wind with the Fentanyl patches. It also helps that she's (as she has described herself) "one tough mo-fo."

Except for two brief forays onto the porch, Peg hasn't left the house since we brought her back from the hospital. This little trip was a real milestone.

Hoping to get her down to Lake Natoma to watch the sunset as the geese fly in to settle down for the night, while very aware that every day is a Forrest Gump box o' chocolates.

Promapalooza

Backstage at the Oscars--I mean the Grammies--err, the Prommies. That's Marlene, rubbing Peg's feet.  I think you're all familar with Miss Whozit, and on the right is Candence Little, who came all the way out from Sacramento to help Zoë with her hair. So much fun here this afternoon.

I should note that Zoë's only 1/4" taller than Peg. She's in her insanely tall heels:

...which she picked up for $14 at a thrift store. 'Cause that's how she rolls.

She had a great time tonight. Decompressing from dancing her ass off by watching "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" on Netflix streaming.

BTW, the "formal" photo was taken by our friend Bruce Patt, who I would like to unabashedly plug:

http://brucepatt.com/

Wonderful and gifted photographer. His theater photography is unbelievable, but he does it all.

Peg and I spent a bit of time tonight side by side on the sofa with me reading these blog entries, which she's never seen. Some were too intense for me to read to her aloud...especially (click here) this one.

Seems weird and also weirdly normal to discuss the details with my wife about her memorial service. As Peg and I are fond of saying, you can't make this shit up.

Prom!

Peg's doing Zoë's nails this morning in the living room. They're discussing eyebrows, eyeliner and all that girly stuff that's off my radar (welding steel tubing, not a problem; applying makeup...not so much).

Zoë has Guster blasting on iTunes in the kitchen. Fun to hear them chatting.

This is Phase One in a day-long process. Around 3 it's showtime for hair and makeup. Then the gown and heels. Late this afternoon our friend Bruce Patt is going to photograph her "group date" (nine kids, both genders). Then dinner at a neighborhood restaurant and on to the dance.

Zoë told us last night the anticipation and preparation is the best part--the dance itself is okay, but not great, sometimes depending on the ratio of fun dance music to not so fun rap.

And me? Our little patch of grass in the back yard is so long it's gone to seed. The weed whacker is calling...