today is fairly cloudy here in israel, unlike yesterday which was
gorgeous and sunny. not that it matters what the weather is like, it's
all irrelevant when seen through a window in a hospital room.
writing helps me through emotional times, so i'm sorry if anyone finds
this inappropriate or upsetting. don't read it if that's how you feel.
it's been a while since i've been around anyone who was sick.
...."sick". no, that's not right. that's my way of softening the truth.
it's been a while since i've been around anyone who was dying. and i
don't think i've seen anyone like this.
he shakes a lot, drifting in and out of consciousness. he speaks very
little, only a handful of words a day. when we arrived he definitely
knew us, although there have been other times when i didn't see that
flicker of recognition in his eyes. his hands are constantly moving,
tugging at the sheets or miming some imagined activities. some of these
gestures we can't identify, most of them we can. he'll be pointing, or
kissing his tallit (or other jewish ritual)... or having a cigarette.
that's the worst. dying of lung cancer, and his hands are still going
through the motions of smoking.
we had some excitement just a moment ago. he sat up, eyes totally
alert, and with our help, he stood up! his eyes lit up, he was with us,
really with us. but he's tired out now. so he lays back, holding my
mom's hand to stop him from shaking as she hums a soothing tune, and we
return to our chairs and our books.
this is sad, and disturbing, and i don't know how my mom copes. i've
only been here for two days and i feel this heaviness all around,
crushing down on me, my heart pounding and my blood rushing. sometimes
it's overwhelming and i want to escape outside. but i don't. this is no
time to be selfish. this is no time to avoid that which is upsetting.
this is when we must be strong. if he reaches out, we will be there to
offer a hand.