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October 3rd, 2006

Tandra's been absolutely miserable today. She's had a fever of 101+, a nonstop nosebleed, uncontrollable pain, dizziness, nausea and panic.

I had her hospice nurse come to the house and together we decided to bring her back to the hospice hospital, so that's where we are now.

EMS came to transport her because she didn't feel she could get down the stairs.

The two hospice nurses I spoke to both sounded very grim. One said that Tandra could have internal bleeding and could be gone within a matter of hours. Personally I have no hope, and I don't think she will be going home this time.

Leah and Tiffany, if you guys want to see her, get your asses here now. St. Francis, elevator bank C, 8th floor. Room 8135.
It feels a lot different in here than it did a day ago. The TV is off. Everyone is whispering. Sounds are mostly her oxygen bubbler, her breathing, whispering, and me tapping quietly on the computer. It's very somber and sad. I've broken down a couple times. Eventually I had to get out of the room for a few minutes. When I did, I found the chaplain. Just talking a little bit helped me feel better in some strange way.

There's always the chance that this is a bad reaction to the transfusion, and that she'll feel better in a day or two, but I don't want to put myself into too much denial. I can't take too much hope in that because even if that does happen, this tragically sad moment is going to happen sooner rather than later.

Teresa (her mom) is having a real rough time of it tonight.

I have such a crazy conglomeration of feelings going through me right now. It's really weird when thoughts and feelings hit me that I wasn't expecting. It hurts so much to see Tandra like she is right now, and it kills me to see Teresa going through this. She is the only person probably who is hurting even more than I am through this, and I can't even imagine that. I don't want to. But I was looking out the window (we have a view to the west this time) at the slowly flashing red light on top of a huge antenna tower, and the thought hit me that I wanted to BASE jump it. I started looking down at the ground (we're on the 8th floor) and wondering if this was high enough to BASE jump from. I realized it would probably be wise for me to get in a few regular skydives first before I start doing it illegally or whatever. Not that I'm really ever going to do that.

And then I realized what a weird sequence of thoughts it was to have right now.

My friend Matt is texting me about the new stereo he got for his 1979 Mercedes Benz Diesel. I welcome the distraction.

I noticed that the lights at the baseball stadium are on. (Yes, I've spent some time staring out the window at the skyline.) This time I had an image of taking Kaien to a baseball game. I don't even like baseball and it's probably not something I'd ever do (unless he wanted to), but this time the feeling I got was one of life. I saw those lights and it helped me to remember that there is life beyond what I'm dealing with right now. That there will still be life left to live after all this is through. That I'm strong enough to be able to recover from this and be a good dad to these kiddos.

You know what though? I do not want to do this. I do not want to plan or go to a funeral. I do not want to go through pictures for a damn slide show. I do not want to burn a CD of the music. I do not want to write an obituary or a eulogy or have a burial or any of it. I don't want to deal with that aspect of it in any way. I just don't.