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Showing posts from September, 2016

Two months later, bathtime still haunts me

She'd fallen a few times before the last day.

Once, in the driveway, while I was giving Gordon a bath. She cut her eyebrow on the asphalt and exploded her colostomy bag, and waited a while before phoning to say she needed help. Gordon ended up banging on the living room window from the inside, naked, wet, wanting me to come back inside. We ended up calling her folks over to help hoist her up -- I couldn't do it by myself. She was too big and couldn't move well any more.

She fell again, not long before the last day, in the bathroom, at home by herself. She said she'd fallen asleep standing up and woke up on the way down, like a cat tumbling off the edge of a highrise balcony during a nap. It took her more than half an hour to scoot to the kitchen, looking for her ringing cell phone so she could call for help.

That day convinced me it was time to take time away from work and keep an eye on her. Gordon would go into daycare full-time. Amanda was sleeping more and more, a…