I continue to get weaker. This morning I went to the bathroom and just barely made it back to the bedroom, where it took about five minutes before I could catch my breath. I wanted to move into the living room but just felt too weak. When Barbara, the physical therapist arrived, she suggested a few strategically placed chairs so I just needed to take a few steps before resting, and so I was able to make it, in stages, into the living room. I'm much more comfortable in the recliner, and Barbara's bodywork always makes me feel better.
Later Nancie arrived; I'd been hoping to feel strong enough for a shower but definitely didn't have the energy, so she gave me a sponge bath here in the living room, and used dry shampoo on my hair. My hope is to get dressed and sit at the table tomorrow and feel like a normal person!
Ann and Donna have been cooking a good part of the day, and Marty went out to get the turkey from Whole Foods, along with a pumpkin pie and an apple pie, and some champagne. It would be so nice if I have a better day tomorrow and can really enjoy Thanksgiving and all this yummy food. I really love turkey and stuffing and gravy and cranberry sauce and all the other stuff that will be on the table, including baked sweet potatoes, acorn squash, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts (and I think Donna has added some other things that I don't even know about).
But a morning like today leaves me feeling very discouraged. I get weaker and weaker, everything gets more and more difficult, and I'm quite ready for it all to be over. Apparently, this sounds like "whining" to at least one reader; all I am trying to do here is to document how it feels to have a terminal illness and the effects not only on the patient, but on the family and caregivers. I appreciate those readers who came to my defence and who seem to understand the purpose of this blog.