One Year Later: Nov 27, 2023

If you don’t want to be sad, I suggest you don’t read my posts for the next week. I’m going to take you on a behind the scenes journey of taking care of someone with cancer in the last week of their lives. Don’t worry, it won’t be too graphic, but this helps me share with the world (my friends) what this journey is like.

I’ve journaled extensively since the day of her cancer diagnosis. I’ve been reading each entry for the past few weeks now. You may be asking why would you put yourself through that pain? I don’t see it as such, I see it as reflections on life. Comparing myself back then with today. Also, I like to feel sad. It helps me to know I am human and connect with the person I’ve loved for so many years. I put my sadness in a time-box. When I want to be sad I turn it on, then when I am done, I turn it off and continue to more forward in my life.

One year ago today at 6:45AM I gave Jami the first dose of morphine. Her head and back were in pain and she could not get comfortable. Thirty minutes later she was sleeping. The drugs worked. She slept for a few hour then tried to get up. She could not. From this point forward, I was always by Jami’s side helping her get from point A to point B. Using a bit of hindsight at this point, I’ve come to realize the cancer was progressing quickly in her brain.

This day made me realize the gravity of her condition. While I didn’t know how long we had left at the time, I could tell she was declining quickly. We knew this was coming. At this point we had stopped chemo and started hospice. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly.

We spent the rest of the day together.