Timeline: Friday March 19, 1999 - Tuesday March 23, 1999 4:15 am

I was sitting on the sofa with xebra's sister when he said the "Maybe I should just be euthanized" line. She and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes. After the doctor left she turned to me and said quietly, "Maybe you should just let him go."

WHAT? He's already in a friggin' hospice! I looked her square in the eyes and sternly said,
"And
just
what
would
you
have
me
do?"

I dunno. That one kind of pissed me off. No wonder I decided to chase everyone off. She did, at that point, apologize and agreed that I had made all the right decisions, considering the circumstances.

She left Friday about 5:00 pm for her plane and then it was just the two of us. I had the chair pulled up right next to the bed so I could hold his hand. That "Maybe I should just be euthanized" line was about the last thing he said, but I kept talking since they told me that was the last sense to go. He might have muttered an "I love you too, boss," or just grunted an "Uh huh" with a head nod at some point.

I gave running commentary of everything on TV or any telephone calls. Mostly he just laid in the bed, breathing. Barely breathing.

I was scared to leave his side, even just to go upstairs to take a shower. I didn't want to leave him. I asked the doctor Sunday when he came in and he told me it would be fine to go upstairs for a shower. As a matter of fact it would be a good thing. He told me I needed to make sure I took care of myself.

I knew that, but I didn't want to leave xebra.

I gathered up everything for my shower, ran down the hallway and hit the elevator button about twenty times. That makes it go faster, right? I took my quickie shower and dashed back to the room. He was still there breathing. Barely breathing.

There were books in the room and I picked out a couple to read. I gave him a running commentary of those, too.

They would bring food by at each mealtime, but he never woke up enough to eat it. He just laid there, breathing. Barely breathing.

I just sat right next to him, holding his hand, for 4 days, talking about anything I could think of. He just laid there, breathing. Barely breathing.

Tuesday morning about 3:45 am his breathing woke me up. I had fallen asleep sitting by his bed. His breathing was making just a horrible sound. It was so labored. I hopped up and ran around to the other side of the bed and grabbed his right hand.

I kept talking to him, petting his head and telling I loved him, as much as I could through my tears.

A little after 4 am the nurse came in on rounds. She looked at me, shook her head and said, "I don't know if he's going to make it through the morning."

I said, "I don't know if he's going to make it through the minute."

I really wanted her to leave, but she didn't. I had some things I wanted to say to xebra in private. At 4:15 I finally choked out,

"It's OK, honey. I'll be fine. I promise."

At that point the horrible/wonderful breathing sounds stopped.