Mar. 31, 1986… A great day, (AMAZlNGLY). I worked on my quilt for a little while.
May 5, 1986… It's been a long while since I last wrote herein.
I guess I didn't find the energy and the will to do it before now.
Days are often so much the same.
I had a few physical set-backs through the months; one "flu" episode nearly had us digging my grave. I really wondered if that would be it for me and this world. I had to get the elevated (frame-style) commode from Bev Verstraete. They had purchased it for her father.
It was awful. I was so weak; I couldn't get up from the toilet; even with my raised seat. I tried and tried, but Mom had to help before I made it. Even with her help, getting up was nearly impossible. I was so scared. It had been getting progressively more difficult; I guess I saw it coming, but it's still a blow when it finally happens to you. It's so demeaning. I kept wondering what would've happened if I couldn't get up and was alone; but then, of course, I'm not left alone anymore.
I lost a lot of weight; my face is just skeletal now. Every time I get
a "bug" I lose more strength and can never fully regain it.
The thought of total incapacitation is rather horrifying.
It's bad enough now.
I have accidents in my undies, because sometimes I can't walk fast enough to get there, and have no butt to pinch the rectum closed and hold it back. It's never major; just a spot, but I hate it just the same. I wear a pad for security now.
The 4 Lasix and 2 Aldacton daily don't really do the job. By evening I can hardly breathe, so I can no longer recline in my chair. Dad has made a high platform and secured it with screws so I can just turn from my bed and sit down. The porta-potty is across from it. My world is slowly closing in. The water presses both my heart and lungs causing my heart to flutter from the pressure. Sleep has been difficult of late, I have to sit up on the edge of my bed for a time; then I lay down again. It's better by morning.
At least my foot is better; it was hurting like crazy… I must have hurt it due to water retention (?).
Every time I lose more health it's like some big milestone has been crossed. First it was the overheating, then going to the bathroom restricted the daily walks and other outings; then I had to remain upstairs… then the toilet… and on and on. Each time was such a defeat. I cried about having to stay upstairs because I wondered if I was just "throwing in the towel." Then I cried about not being able to get up from the toilet because it scared me so!
May 19, 1986… Last night Mom and Dad brought pizza upstairs. It was nice. Sharon came for a Saturday bus excursion to a shopping area near Chicago. Mom, Sharon and Rosalind all went. Mom brought me a towel for my wash stand and a nifty wall basket with a lid.