The wrinkles are deeper today. There are a few more of them than there were a month ago. The bags under the eyes are darker, the lids drooping. The shower is longer and the water is hotter trying to work out the knots in neck and shoulders. It was a night of unease and worry. Dozing for a few moments and startling awake. Anticipating the enevitable, wondering if it is going to happen tonight. How will it happen, what will the moment feel like?
Hourly repositioning, mouth swabs, pain medicines, chapstick, eye drops. We are trying not to cause more pain in the attempt to ease it. We are hoping and praying he will have blissful sleep with no pain, no discomfort. His eyes open and he gazes at the ceiling. What is he seeing? What is he thinking? He speaks in a whisper or soundlessly mouths a few words but it is hard to understand what he needs so we guess. Water? Kleenex? Pain? Head higher? Feet higher? But, most of the time we don't get it right at first and he is patient. He mouths the words again until we get it right or he falls once more into a restless sleep.
What is the purpose of this lingering? Why must it take so painfully, heartbreakingly long? What will I learn from these wrinkles?