Sunday, February 5, 1984

Love has had five heart attacks in a row since Friday morning. A nurse told me that if they can stabilize his condition, he will be released in a few days or a week. He is very subdued: he seems very distant, as if he were just waiting for the heart attack that kills him. He has lost his zest for life and seems to be accepting the inevitable, the same as I am beginning to accept the inevitable about Love's future. He's received six shots of blood thinner into his stomach. It's ironic that the VA hospital wouldn't do surgery January twenty-sixth, because he was taking aspirin to thin his blood, and that seems to be what was keeping him alive. Now, maybe they'll have an excuse not to do the surgery again, because he's had blood thinners. Another two or more weeks of waiting for surgery, and he has already lived two weeks longer than the VA hospital expected him to live. Love has informed me that he wished he had died during his fourth heart attack last Friday, because it's going to happen sooner or later, and he would just as soon get it over with. He reiterated that his life insurance at work is made out with me as the beneficiary. We are supposed to be civilized in this country, and not torture our people, but yet Love is dying by degrees and nothing is being done, except his condition is being stabilized, even through all the doctors and hospitals know what is wrong with him. His records from the VA hospital are not here yet. In this world of computers, computers, computers, why aren't his records here? Why aren't his records being sent by one of the delivery companies that feature four-hour or overnight delivery, if computers can't send them.

Hooray! Mom is trying to eat by herself today. Since last Wednesday I have had to feed her, that is to try to feed her, but she hasn't had mind enough to eat much, or indeed, even realize that she was being fed. She realized that her bathrobe is a bathrobe today and wasn't trying to invisibly sew it, even though she was still screwing around with it. It was still a battle to get her to eat, and I had to remind her to chew and drink, but she was better today. At least, her mind was good enough today that when I told her to "quit screwing around with your bathrobe and take a bite", she did, and when I told her to "chew your food and swallow it", she did. She complained about her back and legs hurting, which is probably arthritis, and the only thing I could do was give her a pain pill. She still walks and lifts herself and keeps her muscles strengthened, I don't need her bedridden any sooner than necessary.

When everything is over, I'm going to allow time for me to have a week's mental breakdown. I deserve one!