|Rob with my brother, Jack early one morning.|
The bony shape of Rob's shoulder sticks out of the hospital gown. It looks more like a small child's knee than a grown man's shoulder. This is what happens when eating ends.
It has been ten days since Rob has eaten food. Ten days that as his wife I have watched him not want to eat and I have not forced the issue as it is my issue--not his. Rob turned away food beginning on Saturday, February 20. The last meal he ate was breakfast the morning of February 19. I made him an egg sandwich on corn rye toast--a favorite of his and he ate about half of it.
Each day I eat food I feel sick. When I listen to family and friends eating in our dining room I sometimes feel nauseous. I know this is irrational and I understand that the body rejects food as it is dying. I can read and comprehend that, but somehow when it is Rob and not some anonymous body, my understanding falters.
In one book about death and dying I read the following:
|from here: http://www.areaofficeonaging.com/ECHO3.pdf|
Each phase of dying brings tensions and sadnesses that are hard to name and even more difficult to hold. But hold I must. Bearing witness to Rob's last days is the greatest of challenges and also the most necessary. How might I help you to be more comfortable? That's the main question these days.