That's Michael in 2000, the week of his wedding. I was scanning in old photos tonight, and after sitting with him much of today, I think I had forgotten how handsome he was before he got sick.
A neighbor I've never met came to the door today to complain about cars parked on the street. She said neighbors are complaining and that we shouldn't be parking on the street.
I explained that my son is dying and friends and family are coming to say their goodbyes and they likely will continue to park on the street. I think she felt terrible and I was somewhat satisfied with that. I know that's not right, but maybe I just wanted somebody else to feel bad too.
Danny and Jennifer and the kids left this morning and then James came and changed the dressings on his nephrostomy tubes. He has more experience at that than I do and he told me yesterday he wanted to do that for Mike.
It's just me and Rob and Michael here now. He's really tired after the weekend's visitors, and he's had a lot of pain today because he's constipated. I sat with him tonight and wondered how many days we have left. Each new day brings us closer to the end and I'm not ready for that yet. I'll never be ready for that.
I want to help -- put a warm facecloth on his forehead, get him more water, somehow do something to make him more comfortable, and sometimes he gets impatient with me because he hates to have anyone fussing over him.
I can't make it better this time. There's nothing I can do but watch him fade away. Damn, I hate this.
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