My eyes, my head, and my heart hurt.
Apr. 18th, 2006 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleI stepped off the elevator this morning wearing the pretty skirt Jenny brought me when she came back from Thailand yesterday only to be told she wasn't in. I had just enough time to say, "Oh, no, what's happened--" before I was told Mon died this morning.
Jenny told me yesterday-- her first day back after being out nearly a month, working one of out conventions in Thailand and taking Mon back there-- that when they landed back here Saturday morning, Mon went straight back to Temple. She was starting to get disoriented, and Jenny was afraid the cancer was finally going to her brain. I was praying it was just the trip, and that once she was back on chemo, she'd be all right. Jenny also told me how torn she felt: while they were all home, her mother had a stroke. Jenny didn't know whether to stay here with Mon or go home to her mother.
I cried all morning. My eyes feel like they're trying to hammer their way out of my sockets. I'm angry. I'm furious. I love Jenny so dearly, and I loved Mon, for all I didn't know her half as well as I wanted to. When I went to visit her in the hospital, I remember the researcher who came in to chat, and all the questions she asked: do you have feelings of despair? Do you feel like life is unfair? Do you feel angry towards other people, or life? And Mon said no to it all. She wasn't bitter at all. She was fine-- or as fine as one can be, I suppose, for someone who says, "You see these lumps here? Yeah, that's more cancer. Oh, well."
She may not have felt it wasn't fair. But I do.
Jenny told me yesterday-- her first day back after being out nearly a month, working one of out conventions in Thailand and taking Mon back there-- that when they landed back here Saturday morning, Mon went straight back to Temple. She was starting to get disoriented, and Jenny was afraid the cancer was finally going to her brain. I was praying it was just the trip, and that once she was back on chemo, she'd be all right. Jenny also told me how torn she felt: while they were all home, her mother had a stroke. Jenny didn't know whether to stay here with Mon or go home to her mother.
I cried all morning. My eyes feel like they're trying to hammer their way out of my sockets. I'm angry. I'm furious. I love Jenny so dearly, and I loved Mon, for all I didn't know her half as well as I wanted to. When I went to visit her in the hospital, I remember the researcher who came in to chat, and all the questions she asked: do you have feelings of despair? Do you feel like life is unfair? Do you feel angry towards other people, or life? And Mon said no to it all. She wasn't bitter at all. She was fine-- or as fine as one can be, I suppose, for someone who says, "You see these lumps here? Yeah, that's more cancer. Oh, well."
She may not have felt it wasn't fair. But I do.
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Date: 2006-04-18 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-18 08:57 pm (UTC)i feel your pain.
HUGS HUGS HUGS.