#he's basically been in hospice all year

[devsquared]

My soul-cat, twenty years old, my little gentleman, who went blind last week and immediately started adapting to, now he lies dying in my lap

[callsign-bunnie]

H-hey *taps fingers nervously* uhm yeah can-can I get

Vamp!alejandro....maybe being turned and a rudy

T-thanks

Sorry this took so long, lol, I didn't want to go the basic route and do something common. I had to be extra and do something new, you know?

--

Rodolfo Parra had joined the military at 18 years old, the same time his best friend did. The exact day after, in fact. He could remember when Alejandro had informed him that he was joining the military. He’d taken him out in his shitty ass truck and just told him, point blank.

So, Rodolfo had signed up the next day. Admittedly, he’d never had any mental need to help Las Almas. His mother had always said Las Almas was dying. Or it was dead. She couldn’t make up her mind. Either way, he’d grown up with the idea that Las Almas was a lost cause.

Alejandro was the one who’d always hoped to save it.

City of souls… that’s all it was, a graveyard. A perfect mausoleum. But, he hadn’t wanted Alejandro to be another soul joining it, so he’d gone to make sure his dumbass would stay alive. “The only one who can kill Alejandro was Alejandro…” No. Not even he would manage.

They’d risen the ranks quickly. Faster than they should have. Private to Sergeant, to Colonel and Sergeant Major. Rodolfo also had noticed how quickly he was being left out. At first, he didn’t care. He didn’t mind it at all.

Alejandro still hung out with him, so he didn’t really need to make new friends. In fact, he and Alejandro got closer than ever, as Alejandro had became oddly protective of him. Of course, this was after Valeria’s betrayal… She left, shortly before he and Alejandro had taken over Los Vaqueros.

Sometimes, Rodolfo wondered if she had something to do with the old Colonel’s disappearance. But… with the ease that Alejandro had settled into the position, the way everyone seemed to like him better… sometimes, he wondered if Alejandro had.

It was around this time that Rodolfo started to pick up on other things. Alejandro didn’t like him being left alone with certain majors for too long, always finding an excuse to pull him away. Major Alvarez and Rodriguez were exceptions.

Alejandro, without telling Rodolfo, reinstated old “Night Units” which were units only used at Night for the most covert of missions. They had a 100% success rate, too. Which… compare this to the very low rates of every other squad…

Los Vaqueros answered to Rodolfo, as well, but… not on the same level that they answered to Alejandro. Rodolfo sometimes wondered if he could tell one of them to shoot themselves and they’d get out their gun and do it. Of course, they listened to Rodolfo, but… it was odd. They would defy direct orders if it would put Rodolfo in danger, he was the first knocked behind things.

Hell, Alvarez and Rodrigez had, several times, shoved him behind them to protect him from threats. He was used to it, now, but it’d been infuriating in the beginning. He’d blown up at quite a few of them for doing it, reminding them of their place but… all he’d gotten were… smiles. The same smile his older sister used to give him when he got mad at her for trying to protect him. 

Eventually, he gave up. Alejandro never treated him like that, so he supposed he could get over it. He could get over constantly feeling something was being kept from him, that there was some big secret he didn’t know. He could get over the fact that he wasn’t being told why more and more of Los Vaqueros were joining night raids, why the cartel picked up odd practices, why Valeria wore a rosary every time he saw her when she had long since lost faith. Why the cartel seemed almost terrified of night time and the dark.

Why casualties in Los Vaqueros just… stopped. Members should have died, but they’d spend a few days in hospice and then they’d be stuck on the Night Units. He tried not to notice that there was no silver anywhere in the base, no iron either. Cartel members disappearing and then reappearing, their hearts gone, their bodies drained of blood. He was one of the few members to eat in the dining hall anymore.

When Alejandro had an underground part of the facility made, he pretended that it was just a necessary addition. That it just made sense, even when it really didn’t. They were close enough to the ocean that hurricanes and flooding were a risk, having an underground part didn’t make any sense, but he’d just nodded and signed the paperwork. Smiled.

Now… now he was worried. Now he feared he’d pretended too much.

Alejandro had become even more secretive. He was hiding things. He’d stopped going on field missions, Rodolfo wasn’t allowed to either, and Rodolfo was positive that Los Vaqueros knew something he didn’t. He’d tried, once, to ask Alvarez, but she’d given him a smile and just said “Colonel Vargas will tell you if it’s important.” She hadn’t shown her teeth.

Rodolfo had never been religious, either, but he’d found himself stumbling into a church that night and saying a few prayers. 

Then he’d heard Alejandro telling Rodrigez, “he can’t know. Rodolfo can’t know. It’s imperative he doesn’t know. He won’t understand.” Rodolfo wasn’t sure what he couldn’t know, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t know. What couldn’t he know? But… he had a feeling it had to do with everything else.

A chill had crept into the bed where he slept, impossible to ignore, even more so to get rid of. He slept less and less, he found himself inching away from any of their Vaqueros when they were near him. Maybe he searched silver blades on the place where he’d found most of his non issue gear. Maybe he’d bought one and slid it under his bed.

Alejandro’s birthday, his thirtieth, approached and Rodolfo was more and more left out. He was kept at the base during big missions, even when he demanded to go. He wasn’t even really given a response back, just his majors, his subordinates telling him that “Colonel Vargas” didn’t want him there. Alejandro didn’t go, either, of course, and he’d always spend time with Rodolfo. But… it was less and less like Rodolfo was his second in command and more and more like Rodolfo was something small he was keeping out of trouble. 

He’d wanted to lose it on Alejandro, to scream at him and demand to know what was going on but… he knew Alejandro well enough to know that that wouldn’t do anything. He was so sick of that soft, gentle smile that says “you don’t know this is for your own good” and if he saw it one more time, he’d scream even louder. But… he’d resigned himself to being quiet, why stop now?

The chill turned into practically a freeze a week before. Alejandro and he hadn’t seen each other in several days and… Rodolfo feared what Alejandro’s 30th birthday might bring.

-

Rodolfo.

Rodolfo jerked forward in bed with a start, holding his chest and gasping softly. The scent of blood filled the air, but only for a moment, before it was fading again. Carefully, he looked around his quarters before climbing out of his bed.

He pulled on his jeans, then his hoodie, and then he grabbed his gun and knife. When he ventured out of his quarters, the base was silent. Deadly silent, scarily silent. No one walked, he couldn’t even see their night patrols. Nor their Night Units preparing for a mission. 

Dread settled deep into a pit in his stomach.

First, he went by Alejandro’s office and he was met with an empty desk chair, everything neatly put away for once. He hadn’t been in his office the last few days. Rodolfo had left it rather quickly, going by first Rodrigez’s and then Alvarez’s office and quarters, and he was met with the same empty state.

Every office he went by was completely empty, save for the base cats, who he gladly crouched and pet before continuing through the base. It was scary when empty, he wouldn’t lie. It send more dread into that pit, keeping him tensed into himself.

He’d never been the most trusting person, never the most calm. It was one of the things that had served to make him a good soldier, was this ability to always be on edge. He doubted it was serving him now, it only served to make him spooked and irrational.

Finally, he exited the base, clenching his hands into fists at seeing the trucks were all still there. Not a single one was touched. He looked up into the guard towers and there was… no one. Not a single Vaquero. 

This couldn’t be the work of the cartel, he knew, as they’d have left nothing but destruction in their wake but… why would they have all left? Why leave him behind? Would they be back? Somehow, he knew they would.

Regardless, he still ventured to the main entrance to the base, putting in his code to have the door open and frowning when it didn’t work. They didn’t want him to leave. Well, they should have known Rodolfo was too crafty for that, as he just put in Alejandro’s code, watching the lock open.

Rodolfo had everyone’s codes, even the higher ups that came to stay. He’d always made sure to memorize that stuff. 

Once he was out of the base, he looked around, trying to find some evidence of their leaving, of where they had gone, but there was nothing. No tire tracks, no boot tracks, no… tracks. Nothing but his own, which were even very light.

Then he saw it, though he almost completely missed it. Up in the mountains close to the base, he saw firelight. There was a fair amount of it, but he still could have missed it if he hadn’t had been actively searching.

He didn’t want to risk noise with one of the trucks, so he grabbed one of the few motorbikes they had, specifically the one he had doctored, himself, to be mostly silent, and he took off to the source of the firelight, stopping quite a bit of distance from it, just in case. He hid it in a bush, before continuing closer to the light. 

It seemed to be coming from the middle of a clearing and, already, he could recognize the forms of several of Las Vaqueros. His heart sank right into the pit of dread as he finally was able to make out Alejandro in the middle of the clearing. He was on his knees, Alvarez in front of him, and he was hunched over something, a massive bonfire next to them.

It was silent… scarily silent. He feared taking too many steps, scared that the dead silence wouldn’t ever be able to mask even a single one of his footsteps. He told himself that this was why he should turn around and return to the base, but… he couldn’t.

He wanted to, he wanted to more than anything, but his body just wouldn’t move. Not when he had started to make out a crimson circle around Alejandro, coating the grass, coating Alejandro. It was on his hands, and Rodolfo couldn’t mistake the source of it. A crumpled body of what looked like one of the narcos.

The cartel had started to fear the night, had started to fear the dark. Valeria wore a rosary. He had a feeling he was looking at the reason why.

Los Vaqueros were just… watching. Some smiled, most didn’t. But there was a stomach turning sort of admiration on most of their faces as their eyes followed Alejandro’s every movement while he drained the body. 

Rodolfo’s own body moved of it’s own accord, no longer caring about sound. He pushed through the circle of Los Vaqueros, not even shocked when he was grabbed and yanked back. “Stop, let go of me-” He fought, anyway, not wanting to be dragged away. They were too strong, he hardly had a hope of wrenching away from them, but he still fought.

“Stop.” 

Rodolfo stopped fighting, immediately, and looked at Alejandro. He was no standing, staring right at him. “Let him come to me. He’s seen, already.”

Rodolfo’s arms were released and he half glared at the two that had grabbed him, but then he looked back at Alejandro, who had his hand outstretched, a gesture for Rodolfo to come. Rodolfo didn’t refuse, moving forward, and keeping his eyes fixed at the thick trail of blood running down from Alejandro’s mouth and coating his chest. His hands were covered in it.

Alejandro smiled at him, though it had a distinct lack of teeth like his normal smile had. “Rudy…” He murmured when Rodolfo got close, taking Rodolfo’s hand and pulling him close. His eyes seemed to be scanning over his face and then Alejandro was reaching a hand up to touch him, trailing the backs of his fingers down his cheek, from under his eye. “I see why they stare at you, now… This vision… you are beautiful…”

Rodolfo hardly felt like he could move, again. He could feel the warm sticky thin trail of blood down his face and he swallowed, trying not to tremble. “Alejandro… what did you do to yourself?”

“I only did what was necessary. What I had to. To save Las Almas.” Alejandro’s voice didn’t rise above a murmur, his expression didn’t change from soft awe and admiration. But, Rodolfo could see his teeth, now. He could see the fangs in his mouth, how they looked freshly formed. Not two, not like in movies. No, six. Four on top, two on the bottom. His teeth were stained with blood.

Alvarez stepped forward and Alejandro jerked his head to look at her with frightening speed, causing Rodolfo to flinch. “Since he is here, it is best to do it now. We have Suero de la Luna all made up. I know you wanted to wait, but…”

Alejandro turned his head to look at Rodolfo again and Rodolfo was quick to shake his head, “no, no. I don’t want to be like you, I don’t want to become this.”

“You won’t, don’t worry.” Alejandro smiled, that same smile everyone else gave him. “You are too precious… Your blood wouldn’t allow it, anyway. La Luna… You do not know much about your family history, correct?”

Rodolfo hesitated before nodding. He hadn’t, he hadn’t at all. His father didn’t talk about his own and his mother had burned all of the evidence of hers. “There’s something in your blood… maldición de la luna…” Alejandro explained, touching his face again, his eyes continuing to admire. “I can see it, even now… Being around you will shield them from sunlight. The ones with bloodlust, that is. The wolves will be stronger around you, able to change at will.” He gestured to Los Vaqueros. “Even now, you make it easier.”

Rodolfo frowned and then shook his head. “Surely I would know…”

“No. Not if no one ever told you.” Alejandro shook his head, as well, before nodding to Alvarez. “We can do it, now. It will not change you, Rodolfo. Just strengthen the moon in your blood. This is why we protect you… You are most precious. I will never break an inch of your skin.”

Rodolfo watched him reach and take a cup from Alvarez, and then he was swiping blood from his mouth and applying it around the top in a ring. Alvarez handed him a small dagger and Alejandro cut his own palm, dropping the blood into it. “Then you will be mine. Mi Luna.” Alejandro explained.

Rodolfo moved his eyes down to the cup, trembling as he reached to take it. “The cartel is afraid of night time… of the dark… Valeria wears a rosary… She’s not religious.”

“She knows what we are. What we’ve become.” Alejandro smiled at him, his arm moving around Rodolfo’s waist to hold him close. 

Rodolfo couldn’t move away, he knew this. He sort of had no other choice but to drink from the cup, he realized, as he wasn’t even sure they’d let him die. So, still trembling, he pulled the cup to his lips, tasting it first. It was… sweet. In fact, it tasted very good, and the moment the first sip spread across his tongue, he was overtaken by thirst, by… desire. He needed to finish it, his body wouldn’t let him do otherwise.

Almost desperately, he tilted his head back, drinking it down as fast as possible and panting when he was done. Alejandro’s mouth was on his a moment later, the taste of blood pervading his tongue. Faintly, he was aware of the sun beginning to rise, but no one seemed frightened. When Alejandro pulled away, Rodolfo could see several of Los Vaqueros shoving their hands into the sunlight, almost appearing to marvel at the lack of reaction. 

“Let Valeria fear the dark…” Alejandro murmured, before looking around the clearing. Rodolfo felt like he had new vision, making out odd features on every since Vaquero. Red or yellow eyes, fangs, claws, grayish dark skin which almost appeared too thin. A wildness in some expressions, a dark hunger in others. It frightened him, but Alejandro pulling him closer soothed him. Slightly. “Let her fear the night!” Alejandro called, making Rodolfo flinch hard. “We adapt, we survive, and we will win!”

Los Vaqueros cheered, finally stepping into the sun and basking in it. “We will save Las Almas.” Alejandro’s voice softened and he looked at Rodolfo, again. “Mi Luna… Mi amor…” Alejandro kissed him, again, and this time Rodolfo melted into it, less and less frightened. 

His eyelids felt heavy and a deep exhaustion overtook his body, Alejandro catching him as he slumped. He tsked before lifting Rodolfo, that same smile back. “You will need to sleep, mi Luna… You are still human.”

Rodolfo didn’t have any problems with that, laying his head on Alejandro’s shoulder and letting sleep overtake his body.

--

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[steponmesilco]

Hi all.

I'm sorry for disappearing.

TW cancer ; TW death

On the 14th of August my father passed away.

In February I flew out to South Africa to be with him after hearing his cancer returned after a year of treatment last year.

I've been in South Africa for the entire year. Staying with my mom and sister and spending as much time with my dad as I could. Unfortunately his cancer was an incredibly aggressive brain cancer that was basically untreatable following a second surgery in Feb.

This meant that he was in hospital for most of the year. He lost the ability to speak and his right side was completely paralysed.

There was a time when things looked a little hopeful. He could speak a bit and I got to hear his voice again. But all things come to an end. And following just over a month in the hospice, he left us peacefully on the night of the 14th of August.

I was extremely close to him. We would spend hours and hours listening to all his favourite bands from his youth in London in the 70s. He was a great person. He taught me alot and made me the person I am today. He has done so much for me and for so many.

This year has hit incredibly hard.

And I imagine it will continue to for a while.

But in time I'd like to come back.

I'd like to continue drawing and sharing my art with you all.

And so in honour of my father.

Here is my first drawing in months.

It's his favourite animal.

The African Wild Dog (Painted Dog)

[brightgnosis]

We legitimately thought today was going to be the day. She rejected her 11 am dose of medicine in the most violent way possible (I'll spare the details; it wasn't pretty. It was assaulting to all of the senses), and the way it was done, we were sure it was going to be soon. But she calmed down and stabilized finally.

I don't know what it was today, but I saw my Husband crying in all of that commotion while I was trying to coordinate everyone and get Hospice called for an examination, and it broke me; I've seen him cry a thousand times- far worse than today, even- since this started going downhill in December, but something in today just ... Opened the floodgates in me finally.

I'm annoyingly high empathy when it comes to interacting with media. The slightest sad bit encountered in text, or movie, or game, and I'm bawling my eyes out like a stupid, overemotional little toddler ... People's real life pain, suffering, and even death, though? Has always had little effect on me no matter how close they are on me; I'm so low empathy that I was once called "more heartless than Satan" by my own parents growing up. I had to actively teach myself how to respond "appropriately" to these situations.

In short: I mask death, dying, pain, and sadness. I mimic sympathy and empathy. It's the right thing to do on a Human level. But I don't actually feel it too well on a personal level. It's been incredibly useful these last couple of months, however, and let me care for his mom properly without anything getting in the way. And by all counts, I've done that successfully. The family- including my Husband- has been raving about it and thanking me left and right for giving her the best care to the point it actively makes me uncomfortable.

But I don't know what happened today ... Seeing him crying. Not being able to hold him to comfort him ... I don't know if I'm just at my wit's end exhausted finally, or what. But I finally just started sobbing, too. And since it's started, I haven't been able to get it to stop. But at first it was for him and the fact he was losing his mom. Now, though, it's moved from crying for him to crying for her.

Like ... God, all the times I complained about her. The way she spoke about God and religion drove me nuts, and I hated that she was Pentecostal. She got on my nerves so often because she was horrid at communicating basic things. And we just had different living preferences. We butted heads a lot over it while we lived together ... And yet ... Still, we loved each other ... Still, I'm the only person she's ever forgiven for breaking something sentimental of hers; the only "woman" in her sons' lives she's ever called her daughter- and the only one she's ever let call her mom. She loved it; I was the one she wanted giving her medicine in her final days, and nursing her.

She called me her "Baby Girl"- and then before she slipped into the null state finally, when she was still cognizant most days, he called me "Her Ruth". I never read her the Book of Ruth like I promised I would when she was still cognizant, though; with everything going on and so many people to coordinate, I just never got the chance to do it like we'd talked about. I finally asked for the room today and read it to her, sobbing the whole way through (I didn't think I was going to be able to do it, I just kept crying so hard). And I'll read it again at her funeral when it's time- and again and again every year on her Yahrzeit.

And I'll say the Mourner's Kaddish for the next year when she finally passes. And I'll save a lock of her hair. And I'll get cremation jewelry made when her ashes are returned to us finally. And I'll build her an Ancestral Altar all her own- and hopefully she'll like it and won't find it offensive. And I'll give her offerings of Decaffeinated Lady Grey (a Tea I introduced her to, that wound up becoming her favorite) and the incenses we bought her for her Birthday last year that she never wanted to burn "because then it'll all be gone"; I'll do for her all the things I would have done for my Biological Mother had she ever been worthy of the title. Because she was my mom who finally taught me what a normal, non-abusive family should've been like. Warts, and glitter, and all.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

kill her. kill sweetie. break my heart.

Why kill her outright when there's so much story left to tell?

Alfred's eyes narrowed when you pulled your jacket closer to your body. "Alright, girlie?" he asked.

"Fine," you tell him brightly. "How are you today, Alfred?"

"Fine," he answered, careful to keep his distance from you. Your voice was cheerful but your eyes were not. You look less than happy today. "How was the dance on Saturday?"

"I didn't end up going. Mom wanted me to clean the kitchen and then Jack had friends over."

He hummed and nodded, "A pity, Master Bruce said you were looking forward to it."

You shrug, "Maybe next time." You rub your arm and Alfredcatches sight of what looks like a burn on your forearm. Clumsily bandaged, not all the way covered and weeping.

"Good lord, what happened there?" he tutted, pulling your sleeve back when he watches your wrist.

"I-I- I was making spaghetti and the pot was heavy," you stammer.

"Well," he said blinking, knowing that isn't likely- he'd seen you cook when he'd gone along with Bruce on your Wednesday visit with your Grandmother. You were capable. In a few years, you'd be a good little cook. But he couldn't prove that DIDN'T happen either. "It looks nasty. Let's get a new bandage on it, hey?"

"I can-"

"It's a little tricky to do with one hand," he said smiling a little. "Let's get that seen to and then you can drag Master Bruce outside- I've not been able to get him out of the study since Friday."

And when you nod slowly, Alfred makes a note to keep an eye on that sort of thing. He wasn't sure what he'd do about it, of course. But someone would have to keep you from losing limbs to gangrene.

____________________

The knock on your door dragged you out of your bed and you staggered across the floor rubbing your eyes. The only way you could sleep was hard. You slept so hard and fell asleep so fast you weren't sure if your nap had been 20 minutes or a full day.

And when you check the peephole to see Alfred standing there, carrying bags you sigh. At least he already knows.

You open the door and stifle a cough with effort, "Alfred what-"

"Food for the freezer," he said, letting himself in, "keep your strength up."

"Thank you but-"

"I won't have you starving," he said sternly, putting bags down and taking a look around. Things were tidy enough but he could see where some of your housework had gotten away from you. Dust and the odd paper scrap. Laundry, he imagined was also hard and he made a note to contact a service to help. "Have you eaten anything at all today? Or have you been living on gummy bears?"

"I had some popcorn and part of a soda before I laid down," you murmur sinking into a chair.

"Hardly a balanced meal, Miss Y/N," he tutted, setting about inspecting your kitchen, making notes of things you needed. You had basics. Things were clean. But for some ungodly reason there was very little there that was just comforting. Like you were trying to deal with the bare minimum.

"Alfred I can-"

"You can certainly," he said, "But. Now that the cat's out of the bag there's no need to stand on ceremony, Girlie. You need help. You need to eat. And you need as little extra to worry about as possible. Thankfully, I know several lovely little services that can come in-"

"I'm not in hospice-"

"No you morbid little weirdo," he snorted, pulling down a bowl and pouring Chicken and dumplings into it deftly, "Someone to help with the cleaning and the laundry."

When you roll your eyes, Alfred takes the still-hot food and set it on the table with a fork, "Now you eat that and let me get to work. I have explicit instruction to see to it you have everything you need." He didn't. Bruce had been practically paralyzed after you left, dealing with the fact that you were dying. That you stared death directly in the face and told it you weren't done. But- he didn't think Bruce would care. Or notice if he was paying for some housework to be done.

"Alfred, it's going to be okay. I'm okay with-"

"Even a miracle needs a hand," Alfred said squeezing your shoulder. "Let us do something, Y/N. Even if all we can do is make it a little easier."

[jawritter]

Story time?

You guys know when I have a tough time dealing with things, certain things going on in my life, I write about it to vent it, and it works for me. Well, I need to vent for a minute. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything like that, I just need to get this out on paper to work through it. So, here I go. 

When I turned 18 years old, I went to school to get my CNA, and then immediately started working as a homebound caregiver, or as we call it down here in the south, a sitter, for the disabled and elderly. Basically, I come in and sit with them during the day and help them feed themselves, clean themselves, clean their homes for them… basically I do for them during the day what normal people would have done for themselves if they were able. I even go shopping for them/with them, if need be, and take them to doctor’s appointments as long as they are able to move around some on their own, and are not on hospice, (end of life ‘comfort’ care). 

When I got pregnant with my first child, I decided not to do it anymore, and just stay home with the kids until they were old enough to go to school instead of paying for childcare while my husband and I both work. Financially it just makes more sense for me to stay home. Also, while this job is not a nursing or doctor’s position, it’s stressful and emotionally taxing. When you sit with someone day in and day out, whether you want to or not, you get attached to these people, and when their lives are over, and they are no longer here, sometimes it seriously feels like you're losing your own family. 

Recently, and some of you may remember me talking about it a little, I started up again when both my girls went back to school. I like to take care of people, it’s just my calling, it’s what I do; no matter how hard it is. My first patient that I was sitting with made their transition from this life to the life here after (whatever that might be), and I took a few weeks break before I allowed myself to be assigned with another patient. 

This is where the part I’m struggling with comes in, so here we go…

Yesterday, I met my next patient. 

They told me his name was Austin. That he’d been disabled after an accident offshore, and that he now needed a sitter, seeing as he was a single male, who was currently unable to walk and take care of himself. (I’m paraphrasing obviously for privacy reasons and to make this understandable for people that do not work in this line of work.)

I’ve taken care of men before, that’s not something that’s bother me and never will. Still, there’s one thing that got to me when I read it in his chart, it’s the fact that he is only 43 years old. 

I’ve never had to take care of someone that young. Most of the time, when we step in, the patient is in the twilight stages of life so to speak. This guy, well, they warned me when they gave me the file, might be a patient of mine for a LONG time to come. 

The accident only happened less than three months ago, and he’s in physical therapy currently, (which is something I will have to take him to). But he can’t bathe, cook, or clean for himself at all currently. He only is mobile, basically above the waist for the time being, and with no immediate family that lives close by, if he wants to stay in his home, this is his only option. 

I met him for the first time yesterday. I go in today when the transport drops him back at his home from the nursing home (that’s where they had him for the beginning of his physical therapy after leaving the hospital), and that’s when my work begins. I sit with him Monday - Friday, 6:30 AM to 7 PM in the evenings. (Another CNA is scheduled for his night shifts and weekends unless we need to swap up for some personal reason). 

He’s so handsome, and young, and it’s not fair that his life has suddenly come to a screaming halt. It’s just not fair.

He’s still learning to cope with it too. He’s not really opened up to me yet, and that’s gonna be a challenge. He’s not happy with the situation he’s found himself in. (Who would be?) This might be the toughest thing I’ve worked on to date. 

I’m still gonna write, I’m still gonna be on here updating as much as I can. But please understand if updates come a little slowly at first, or if it takes me a little while to answer ask or something back. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just working, and I’ll be on as soon as I can. 

Okay, I’ll get off my pity party and get ready to go to work now, and if you made it this far in his too long vent session, thank you, you’re awesome! 

--Jen

[deeisace]

dad just called

well actually, mum called yesterday when dad told her, cs dad doesn't tell me things very often, but he did just now

i didn't tell him mum had called, obviously

my nan's gone into a hospice

apparently that's not the same thing as it used to be, that you go in and never come back out, and she's supposed to come home again next week

but she is very very ill now

she's had cancer for a long long time, and it's been sorta managed for a long while, but it's in her lungs and her spine and basically everywhere and she's gone downhill quite a lot

apparently some of it is something about too much calcium, which they're treating, and that should help a little bit, and dad hasn't told me any more than that, the doctors haven't said like okay this is it now

he's going to visit her tomorrow, and we'll call, and I don't know what I'll say except that I shouldn't cry cs I don't want to upset her

I spoke to my boss this morning about it, so at least he knows

I need to work out changing my shifts about so I can go down there soon, figure out the train strikes

i don't know

i've not really had a relative die like this

well, i have. mum's grandparents died a couple of summers ago, the writer and the engineer, but i'd only met them maybe three times ever, i didn't know them, and i do know my nana

it didn't really sink in yesterday, i don't think, and she's been so ill for so long - she was in remission for a good chunk of my teens, but she's had breast cancer twice and then this whole horrible thing the last few years i'm not even sure - this last year has been so majorly up and down, it doesn't really feel real, if you know what i mean

but it is

and i have to not cry on the phone tomorrow

my grandad is not well either, he has dementia and not quite bedbound, but was ill all last week - but dad said he's doing a bit better this week, they've got him to his chair the last three days in a row, which is good

also, mum says her granny is in hospital too, and my auntie charlotte (who is generally in charge of these sorts of things, despite her leaving the truth - i've no idea how she hasn't had any consequences like everyone else in the family that's left or wobbled in their faith, but then i was never a witness and perhaps the elders are more lenient than they were even 5 years ago. anyway.) my auntie charlotte says that granny is saying she's "had enough". so that'll be soon too.

i've not seen her in a good ten years, and if me or mum visited we'd be upsetting someone or other, it's a shitty situation, but at least she has the rest of the family around her, and me and mum know what's going on

when grandma norah died (granny audrey's mum), in the 90s, my mum didn't even know - she had a friend who happened to work at the nursing home, who when she met up with him one week said 'oh i'm sorry to hear about your nan', and that was the first she'd heard of it - that's how it used to be when you left the truth, and i'd glad it's not the same now - or maybe my family are breaking all sorts of jw rules and someone's going to get in terrible trouble, i don't know

anyway. i don't know. i need to. i don't know what i need to do.

the plan is still that my nan's coming home on wednesday, i think, i don't know any more than that

the train strikes are 1st and 2nd, but maybe i can finangle 3rd-5th off work and go down then, i'd only need to swap my monday for another day

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

HELLRAISER (2022)

I guess this was ok.  It’s basically about Voight, an asshole billionaire who has everything, but still wants more.  We’ve seen Voight before, in the old hospital show “ER” and also as Lisbeth Salander’s boss in “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” (2011).  Voight buys the puzzle box and tricks people into solving it for him.  We watch as a young dude solves the last “configuration,” and a blade pops out of the box to stab him!  The dude is impaled by chains whilst Voight sets the now-oblong box on the pedestal.  He basically summons “god,” which grants him a wish.  He requests “sensation,” and a clockwork-like piece of machinery descends from the heavens and impales him!  He was expecting “pleasure,” but instead all he now experiences is pain! 

Six years later, he enlists the help of a small-time thief (Trevor) to find the box (which he somehow lost) so he can once again ask “god” for a gift.  Travis and his loser girlfriend, Riley, break into a warehouse and steal the puzzle box.  Riley takes it, and she must offer some sacrifices (six maybe) to the box to complete the puzzle:

Victim One: Riley returns to her brother’s apartment.  They get into a fight and he throws her out.  She gets high and sits in a park and plays with the puzzle box.  She solves the first configuration, and a blade pops out!  But it misses her!  Her brother comes looking for her and pokes himself with the blade instead.  He goes into the bathroom and disappears!

Victim Two: Riley, along with her brother’s roommates, freak out over the missing brother.  She and Trevor track down the owner of the warehouse.  They find her, Serena, in a hospice, where she basically states that she hid the puzzle box from Voight because she felt bad about all the killing.  Serena stabs herself with the puzzle box, and we watch as walls shift around her and Cenobites come to take her.  A Cenobite tells her to “save her breath for screaming.”

Victim Three: Riley reads up on Voight.  He is apparently dead.  She goes to his huge mansion, which is covered with an actually cool metal framework.  She sneaks inside and finds his journals and learns all about the puzzle box, but it gets dark and she is spooked.  But then Trevor (her loser boyfriend) and her brother’s roommates find her!  They are trying to take Riley home, and Nora, one of the roommates becomes lost in a secret passage.  Voight, who has been sneaking around the entire time, stabs Nora in the back with the puzzle box.  The crew escape the house and are trying to drive away, but Nora is sucked into the Cenobite dimension.  She is strung up with chains and begins to pray to god.  Pinhead pokes a needle through Nora’s throat and says, “There is so much more the body can be made to feel, and you’ll feel it all before we’re through.”  Nora is flayed.

Victim Four: The van crashes and Riley runs off with the puzzle box.  Pinhead confronts her and offers her some deals but Riley refuses!  Pinhead causes the box to stab Riley!  Riley, Trevor, and Colin (the last roommate) run back toward the house, but they are chased by the Chatterer!  Chatterer is chomping on Trevor, but Riley stabs the Cenobite with the puzzle box, and he is torn apart as the next sacrifice.

Victim Five: Riley, Trevor, and Colin run back to Voight’s house.  They are chased by the Cenobites, but Riley closes the metal framework around the house and keeps them out.  The humans devise a plan to lure in a single Cenobite so they can stab it with the puzzle box as another victim.  This almost works, as they trap the Cenobite, but Riley drops the puzzle box.  Voight finds it first and stabs Colin.  This completes the puzzle.  The remaining Cenobites are trapped in various parts of the house and Leviathan, their god, descends from above.  This is a really nice scene, as an ominous upside-down obelisk emerges from an ebon sky to float over the home.  Voight explains that he wants to return his gift, because it mostly sucks.   Riley frees the various Cenobites, and then she runs to find Colin.  Cenobites are starting to pull him apart with wires, but Riley stabs Trevor (her boyfriend) and they take Trevor instead.  Wires start to cut him up, and he drops down a tunnel into the Cenobite world.

Meanwhile, Pinhead explains to Voight that their gifts cannot be returned, but they can be exchanged.  (Sounds like terrible customer service, right?)  Voight chooses “power,” and a huge chain impales him as Pinhead says, “We have such sights to show you.”  Riley then confronts the Cenobites, and they offer to give her back her brother.  Riley refuses, accepting that her brother is dead, because any Cenobite “gift” is going to be terrible.  The Cenobites tell her that she has effectively chosen “lament” as her gift, as she will live with guilt and loss.  She drops the puzzle box, and it turns back into a simple cube.  Riley and Colin drive away.  Meanwhile, in the Cenobite world, Voight is turned into another Cenobite, which actually seems like the best possible outcome for him.

So I have some notes:

The Cenobites (tone): There’s a bit of a tonal change from the original films, where the Cenobites didn’t (usually) take you unless you actively sought them out.  Here, they’re just elevated slasher monsters.  Of course, this is a movie, and the creators are free to do whatever they want with the narrative, but it was a jarring change.  (I don’t personally believe that any particular creator is “bound” to “respect” the vision of any other earlier creator.  It’s all just fiction and art.  Feel free to remix as you choose.)

The Cenobites (appearance): The various Cenobites had some cool designs, but the execution was lacking.  They looked rubbery.  Also, as their costumes were full bodysuits, some of the Cenobites were a bit thick and chunky.   These Cenobites lacked the cool leather fetish clothing of the original versions, which helped to slim down their profiles.  Still, their acting was good.  The new Pinhead was nicely ominous and threatening.

The Characters:  The acting was overall strong, but “Riley” was a weak point.  She was generally unlikeable as a character, but we have to remember that these movies aren’t really about “good” people.  Rich assholes like Voight would manipulate the weak and poor and vulnerable into their plans.  That being said, “Riley’s” acting was somewhat amateurish.  She mumbled a lot, and her crazed madness about the puzzle box and the Cenobites wasn’t entirely convincing, but that’s a writing issue too.

Overall, not bad as a horror movie.  There are some nice spooks and images here.  The film trades on the “Hellraiser” name, but these aren’t quite the same Cenobites we first met in the original “Hellraiser” (1987).  But, even if a little different, without their sleek black coats, they’re still waiting for us on the edge of existence.

[radical-revolution]

The last aspect of mindful healing is awareness of the universal laws that govern life. Central to it is an understanding of emptiness. This is most difficult to describe in words. In fact, while I can try to describe it here, the understanding of openness and emptiness will need to come directly through the experience of your own spiritual practice.

In Buddhist teaching, “emptiness” refers to a basic openness and non-separation that we experience when all small and fixed notions of our self are seen through or dissolved. We experience it when we see that our existence is transitory, that our body, heart, and mind arise out of the changing web of life, where nothing is disconnected or separate. The deepest experiences in meditation lead us to an intimate awareness of life’s essential openness and emptiness, of its ever-changing and unpossessable nature, of its nature as an unstoppable process.

The Buddha described human life as comprising a series of ever-changing processes: a physical process, a feeling process, a memory and recognition process, a thought and reaction process, and a consciousness process. These processes are dynamic and continuous, without a single element we can call our unchanging self. We ourselves are a process, woven together with life, without separateness. We arise like a wave out of the ocean of life, our tentative forms still one with the ocean. Some traditions call this ocean the Tao, the divine, the fertile void, the unborn. Out of it, our lives appear as reflections of the divine, as a movement or dance of consciousness. The most profound healing comes when we sense this process, this life-giving emptiness.

As our meditation practice deepens, we are able to see the movement of our experience. We note feelings and see that they last for only a few seconds. We pay attention to thoughts and see that they are ephemeral, that they come and go, uninvited, like clouds. We bring our awareness to the body and see that its boundaries are porous. In this practice, our sense of the solidity of a separate body or a separate mind starts to dissolve, and suddenly, unexpectedly, we find out how much at ease we are. As our meditation deepens still further we experience expansiveness, delight, and the freedom of our interconnectedness with all things, with the great mystery of our life. One hospice director experienced this interconnectedness as he sat with the children of dying sixty-five-year-old man outside his room. They had just received news that their father’s younger brother had been killed in a car accident and were struggling with whether or not to tell him. Their father was close to death and, fearing it would upset him, they decided not to speak of it. As they entered the room he looked up and said, “Don’t you have something to tell me?” They wondered what he could mean. “Why didn’t you tell me that my brother died?” Astonished, they asked how he had found out. “I’ve been talking with him for the past half hour,” said their father, who then called them to his bedside. He spoke some last words to each child and in ten minutes rested his head back and died.

The Tibetan teacher Kalu Rinpoche puts it this way:

“You live in illusion and the appearance of things. There is a reality, but you do not know this. When you understand this, you will see that you are nothing, and being nothing you are everything. That is all.”

Healing comes in touching this realm of nonseparation. We discover that our fears and desires, our attempts to enhance and defend ourselves, are based on delusion, on a sense of separateness that is fundamentally untrue.

In discovering the healing power of emptiness, we sense that everything is intertwined in a continuous movement, arising in certain forms that we call bodies or thoughts or feelings, and then dissolving or changing into new forms. With this wisdom we can open to one moment after another and live in the ever-changing Tao. We discover we can let go and trust, we can let the breath breathe itself and the natural movement of life carry us with ease.

Each dimension of our being, the body, the heart, and the mind, is healed through the same loving attention and care. Our attention can honor the body and discover the blessings of the physical life that has been given us. Attention can bring us fully into the heart to honor the whole range of our human feelings. It can heal the mind and help us to honor thought without being trapped by it. And it can open us to the great mystery of life, to the discovery of the emptiness and wholeness that we are and our fundamental unity with all things.

— Jack Kornfield, A Path with Heart

***

[aquagrunt]

my grandpa passed away this morning and I am feeling weird about it. he had a cardiac event in June (the day after my birthday actually) and he driving with my grandma checking out the rain (he was a farmer to his core) when he lost consciousness and drove into a pole. he and grandma were rushed to the er where the er doctors basically told us he wouldn’t survive. well he did. Grandma told him “Robert snap out of this and wake up!” and he woke up. the er doc said he was the healthiest 89 year old man he’d ever seen, and with a pacemaker he could live another 10 years. So they put in a pacemaker, and he had been in and out of the hospital to the nursing home for rehab since then. it was such a rollercoaster. he couldn’t stand or walk on his own and he really just seemed so depressed. he would make comments all the time about how he wished he had died in June. I really think he just gave up. my mom & her siblings made the hard decision to put him in hospice last Wednesday and he was in the hospital hospice wing from then until he passed away this morning.

he and my grandma had been married for 70 years. they were true soulmates and it absolutely killed him that he couldn’t be at home on the farm & taking care of her. he was the provider, and being in the nursing home really just killed his spirit. he always said that he would have rather been shot out on the farm instead of going into “one of those damn depressing nursing homes” and to see him go out this way is really heartbreaking. we always thought some farmer would find him out in the field on the tractor and that was how he would go.

it’s fitting that he died today, he loved snoopy and today is the anniversary of snoopy first appearing in the peanuts comic. I miss you grandpa.

[thecandywrites]

Hey, so @borealwrites and everyone else who is following me for Monster March and I'm literally only a few away from finishing it in FREAKING MAY...

The reason I've been unusually sporadic at best for the last few weeks is my husband's grandma is dying. For the last week she's been in the hospital as we've watched on as her kidneys died while her heart is starting to go.

She is in her 90's. Her husband, unfortunately has already died 20 years ago. In fact it was because Grandpa Don died. That I ever got to meet my husband in the first place. It's a cute story actually. But I basically want to stick to this right now.

The house she has always lived in is the same farm house she and her husband built together after WW2. It's the same house where they had a family, and a farm and had horses and cows and all that. They still have herd of mustang appaloosas, the father, the stud is named Eagle. And is still in the front pasture to be seen out of her window that he's always been in for the last 30 years.

She was finally moved home yesterday so that she can pass peacefully at home, the home she hep build with her husband with thier own hands. She has round the clock hospice care and is on pain killers to keep her as comfortable as possible. She is laying in the same bed she shared with Don and would have been married 63 years this year.

Two years ago, when my parents dropped everything to go out to Arizona so that my grandfather could pass peacefully at home, I made a good humored teasing remark to my husband that we were in a race to see who would lose their grandparents first. I had my mother's parents (because my father's parents have already passed). He had only his grandmothers and a great uncle. And here in a few hours, he will have won the race. And it was not a race we ever wanted to run in or really compete in either. But one we've had no choice but to run in anyway.

Grandma Ruth will officially be death number 17 in our friend and family circle since this “race" began 2 years ago. And I really, really hope that it will be a while before the next death hits us. But with such a track record, my gut says 'doubt it'.

So sorry to keep everyone waiting but everything is literally falling apart all around me and I have to keep it together for everyone else and obviously all of this takes priority.

So keep me and my family in your thoughts and prayers - but only if you are inclined or have any religious beliefs yourself. I don't want anyone to push thseves to do something they are not comfortable doing.

But I wanted you all to know. Just FYI. Thank you.

[thenexusofsouls]

{i am the caretaker of souls} *sigh* I'm sorry guys, but I'm not gonna be able to be on tonight. I got some bad family news (I'll explain below the cut), and my dad and I have to have a very tough conversation with my grandmother that I know is not going to go well. I don't know how long that'll take, but I'm already not feeling creative as it is, so after we talk to her, I'm sure I'll be feeling even less so. I just need some time, unfortunately. I'm really sorry to disappoint everyone at the last minute, but I just got the news from my cousin like... an hour ago, so it was very unexpected. Thank you for understanding, and I'm sure I will be back here next week.

So... I have several aunts on both sides of my family, some of which have been really shitty to the family, and others have been great. My favorite aunt was diagnosed with brain and spine cancer about two months ago, and things have not been going well. It's very aggressive, it's moving very fast, and tonight my cousin told us that they're already at the point of setting up hospice for her because it's not going to be long. The doctors are saying days or a couple weeks. It went... so fast.

Aside from this being my favorite aunt, so I'm already upset about losing her soon, it's rough because my cousin is going through almost the exact same thing I did seven years ago with my mom. My mom was 63, hers is 60, so neither was very old. They both had cancer that went all over the place, especially brain and spine. And they both ended up in hospice at home. My mother lasted five weeks once that happened, so I guess we'll see how long my aunt lasts. But... I just feel so bad for my cousin because I know exactly what it's like to be in her position, and it absolutely sucks. It's one of the worst things to go through, watching someone you love just waste away. So it's hitting very close to home for me because it's bringing up so many feelings about my mom again.

This is my dad's sister, so he's very upset. He's one of six, and he's already lost two siblings. Two others are complete assholes that we very much limit contact with, and then there's my aunt, and we were closest to her out of all of them. So it's really rough for everybody all around.

In a little while, we have to sit down and tell my grandmother. My dad had been keeping her in the dark about everything (something I didn't agree with) because she gets very weird and crazy when she's told bad news and my dad wanted to avoid that. She starts saying really messed up things, cussing us out, she revenge-starves herself, revenge-doesn't-sleep, like she'll purposely refuse to do things so that we have to give her attention. She's very manipulative. Anyway, my cousin told him about two weeks ago that things were going well and to let grandma know the truth. He chose not to. Well now he has to hit her with it all at once and basically tell her that her daughter is going to die very soon, out of nowhere. She thinks things are going okay and she's just getting treated for a back issue. So this... is not going to go well.

He's asked that I be there to help him break the news, and I want to support him, so I'm gonna help him out with this. I really don't want to, but I know he doesn't either, so we'll just deal with her tantrums as they happen. But there's a very good chance that she'll refuse to go to bed at all tonight and we may need to be up with her, and I don't want to just leave my dad with all of that because he's really upset too.

So yeah, that's what's going on. There's just no way I'm writing fun things tonight, I'm just in completely the wrong mindset, you know? I want to be here, but it's just not going to happen tonight. I've just been sitting here crying on and off.

For those who follow me on multiple blogs, I expect to be on tomorrow night, but if for some reason I'm not, I'll let you all know over on those blogs. Tonight is just going to be bad because of how my grandmother is going to react and then get angry at us, likely, but by tomorrow things should go back to normal... at least until we get that next terrible update that something has happened to my aunt. *sigh*

I'm just so tired, you know? It's been so much lately with my job, my health, dealing with my toxic grandmother, and now my aunt not doing well. It's a lot of muchness all at once and I'm definitely feeling it. I really appreciate how understanding everyone has been lately. I know I've been so sporadic with my activity for various reasons in the past few months, so those of you who put up with me, I just wanna say... thank you and I love you all. <3

[scum-belina]

My grandpa took a really bad turn for the worse a few days ago and had to go to the hospital yesterday, and simply put the doctors said he's dying and has maybe one day left. My mom and I rushed back over to my grandparent's today and are doing everything we can for my grandma. I'm coping fine bc I was never close with my grandpa (long time mutuals know just how abusive he and my grandma have been to me in the past) but my mom, grandma, and aunt and uncle are not coping at all. So I'm having to be the strong one here.

My grandpa is back home and hospice will come in soon. I'm staying the night here but will go home tomorrow unless I'm needed again. My mom has been his caretaker for almost a year now, so soon she'll be basically unemployed and once she deals with the loss of her dad I know she's going to stress herself over worrying about finding a new job on top of it all. Really rough time for all of us now. Prayers would be greatly appreciated. I love and thank you all💖

[deadwife]

I’m waiting for my install of The Sims 4 to update with the new stupid EA launcher and am drinking a beer and digesting the weekend and planning this week and it got longer than I expected

Had off Friday and got my hair cut for the first time since July. Did laundry and hung out with my dad for a bit. Got a new dish from the local Chinese restaurant that was like 40% onions. Gross. Saturday I swept & vacuumed the house (stabbed the shit out of my finger on a pushpin that was stuck in the vacuum hose), cleaned the kitchen, and hung out with my friends & boyfriend. We saw the FNAF movie in the evening, which was fine. The animatronics were very cool and the story was accessible whether you were familiar with the games or not. I liked Foxy’s weirdly intimidating “dum-de-dum”, the YouTuber cameos, and the end credits song. I only ever watched like two playthrough of the first game and didn’t realize Foxy’s area was right next to the main stage? I thought he had his own room. Today I could not get motivated until the afternoon but made myself go out for a walk (and PokeGo), grocery shopping (soup was on sale!), and raked leaves.

Tomorrow I have a meeting at work at 10, then have to leave by 3:30 to make sure my mom’s dog gets to the vet by 5… Tuesday is Friendsgiving at my other office so Monday night I also have to bake two things (probably chocolate zucchini bread and a gluten-free cinnamon coffee cake)… Wednesday is normal I think. Thursday is a teleconference training 9-11, then a staff meeting on the afternoon???

Friday the current gov’t budget runs out and I haven’t heard yet about congress signing another continuing resolution yet so we may shutdown /blows a raspberry into my palm

my agency has prior-year funds that can be used to keep our salaries up which is COOL except I also had to work through the 2018 shutdown while my mom’s agency was furloughed. :/ I should be grateful to have job security and a paycheck while other people may not get paid until the end of the shutdown. But still. I want some time off where I don’t have to worry about my stupid email inbox.

Anyway while all this is going on, I’m basically waiting for my mom to let me know my aunt passed away since she was sent to a hospice facility last Sunday and the plan was for her to go back home on Friday to, you know. It sucks and even tho I’ve been waiting for this since she got diagnosed in the late spring, I feel like my pre-grieving is going to go about as well as Roman Roy’s did.

Here’s a picture of my cat if you read all that, her name is Piper.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

Widow in Waiting

One Moment

Can change who we are, what we see,

how we think and feel forever.

One Moment

When a definitive line can be drawn

between everything in our lives

which came before it

or after it.

Sarah Hall

     You may have walked right past her in the grocery store not taking any notice of her.  She has the most stunning blue eyes, but if you’re not paying attention you could easily fail to see the sadness they are trying to hide.  She is certainly pretty enough but she is tired and feels somewhat defeated.  If one of those haunting thoughts sneak into her head she might begin to cry, but she will turn away hoping that no one notices.  She turned 50 last year, although she does look younger, the things going on in her life are wearing her down.

     She had been like any other wife who was happily married, even if it wasn’t either’s first try at making a marriage work.  She had been happy, extremely happy with this man who appreciated her, treated her well and loved her like no one had ever done before.  Then one August day he came home from the Neurologist with the most unexpected and unfathomable news.  He had ALS, there was no cure and he was being given a few years to live.  He had delivered the news calmly and clearly.  His words didn’t seem to fit with his face and mannerisms, but the words were clear.  How could this be?  No, no, no they were supposed to grow old together, there was much travelling to do, adventures to be had, not a long list of doctor and treatment appointments, not hospitals, a hospice and a funeral service.  This is not what she thought she was signing up for.  Suddenly the whole “for better and for worse” words reverberate in her head.

     Suddenly her carefree lifestyle wasn’t, well wasn’t carefree anymore.  Suddenly the value of their time had increased exponentially.  Moments could no longer be wasted as there wasn’t an infinite amount of moments left, each moment had to be savoured, treasured and spent ever so carefully.  

     So she wondered what this whole ALS thing was all about.  She learns that basically the messages from the brain stop reaching the muscles, the body gradually stops working bit by bit.  There is no cure, there is no getting better, only getting worse.  Research suggests her husband may have two to five years from the date of diagnosis, but it is different for everyone, and her husbands ALS seems to be progressing quicker than most.  How she regrets searching out information on YouTube about ALS, what she saw scares her more than any horror movie she has ever seen.

      How did life go from so hopeful to so hopeless?  No time to think about that now.  Need to move to a more appropriate home, 100 year old farmhouses are not conducive to disabled living.  Hard to leave the home that they dreamed of for so long, and fought so hard to get to.  Hard to go back to city living, all that noise, pollution and that hectic lifestyle surrounded by cranky, stressed people always in a hurry.  It is hard for her giving up the life that she loved and settling for the disabled lifestyle that is now the requirement for her husband.  Sometimes it is hard not to yell or scream about the unfairness of this, but it is not his fault, this is just the cards that life dealt him, dealt them both.

     So many people express sympathy for him, she wonders why don’t they understand that this effects both of them?  His inability to do so any things effects them both, because what he can no longer do, she now has to do.  Just as he is slowly dying, so is her freedom, when did her role change from wife to caregiver?  Don’t people understand how frustrating it is when your husband, your best friend, your love is struggling and that there is very little you can do to help him.  She shares his suffering but when his suffering finally ends, hers will continue, continue for many years as she picks up the pieces of her shattered life.  

     She misses the man that she fell in love with.  The man that could do almost anything, that was fearless and always active.  The man who would go out in the yard and work all day taking great pleasure being out in the sun and the fresh air.  There would be all those jobs she would tell him that he should get help with but somehow he managed to move those big heavy objects himself, he took on the big jobs and would chip away at them until the were done.  She misses seeing how happy he was out hiking or snowshoeing with their dogs.  She loves him just as much, but it is like he is slowly fading away.

       Then one day he can’t drive anymore, so she has to drive him everywhere that he has to go.  All those years he would be driving long hours and she would ask if he wanted her to drive and almost always he would say no.  Now there is no question, he staggers to the passenger side and she gets in the drivers seat.  It makes her think back to when she had kids at home and had to drive them everywhere.  

     In a matter of months he went from riding his motorcycle and cutting hiking trails on his tractor, to shopping for walkers and wheelchairs.  And realistically once he gets in the wheelchair he will never get back out.  Remember, no getting better, only getting worse.  

     Death isn’t talked about hypothetically anymore, death is coming and it would be hard not to talk about it.  It is hard for her, she can’t even stand it when a character in a movies gets sick and dies, it just strikes a little too close to home now.  Those hard conversation do have to be had though, so she does her best but when she thinks of her future she feels she will have lost her foundation and will have to start to build her life all over again and it is very, very scary.

     They no longer have their dances in the kitchen when a good song comes on the radio.  He no longer picks her up and carries her to the bedroom like they do in a romantic movie or romance novel.  The long walks holding hands, the hikes together about their property, the future full of endless possibilities are all fading away.  

     Now when they walk short distances together life is different.  Now there is a Dead Man Walking beside his Widow in Waiting.

     So if you are familiar with that classic Tim McGraw song, Live Like You Were Dying, my questions for you are these.  How would you live if you were dying?  Who would you chose to spend time with?  What would you want to do with your remaining time?  What would you want to say to people?  And when the time came for you to leave, would you be happy with how you lived your final chapter?

[justcruzing]

☪ CHARACTER INFO

Name: Alexia "Lexi" Cruz Gender/Pronouns: She/Her Age: 32 Date of Birth: 10.30.1991 Place of Origin: El Paso, TX Occupation: Mechanic at Casey's Current Neighborhood: Shadow Lake How long have they been in town?: 2 weeks Have they triggered their curse: Yes Wolf Classification:(Beta Position in the Pack: (Member, Non Member, Leadership position etc.) Faceclaim:

☪ BIOGRAPHY

Born to a werewolf mother who left her shortly after birth and human father, Alexia Cruz spent her childhood living above her daddy’s auto body shop; more often than not falling asleep to the sounds of drill bits and saws. For as long as she could remember they had been the symphony to her life. A single dad after the death of her mother, Jorge Cruz struggled to make life livable for his little girl. The money the shop brought in was enough to keep them afloat, but left very little excess. As a result Alexia often wore hand-me-downs given to them by the local church and before each school year a trip was made to the thrift shop one city over. There little Lexi could pick out the fashions she wanted in an attempt to blend in at school. It was never successful. When she was young it was easy to blend in, but growing older meant that those who were ignorant started judging her for participating in activities that were typical “boy” things along with her more worn-out clothes. She never cared. Her father taught her that no matter her gender she should do what she found the most joy in and that money did not make someone happy, love did. 

Lexi excelled in sports, playing both softball and track. Her grades were never anything to write home about, the only subject that did not completely allude her was math. Her experience of helping her father work on the cars and needing to know the dimensions of various parts for the perfect fit was a big help in geometry. Of course, her biggest passion came from assisting her father. She was as handy with a wrench as any of the guys, perhaps even more than some, a skill carefully crafted under her father’s tutelage. By the time she was sixteen Lexi could change out a transmission in no time flat. Sixteen was also the same year her father had his first stroke. 

It devastated the pair and though Lexi tried her best to keep the shop afloat, the amount of work piled too high. The money wasn’t there to hire a full-time manager and the employees they did have quit when their paychecks stopped clearing. Without health insurance the bills from the hospital took too much, until finally the shop itself was sold to keep creditors at bay. In an effort to assist her father, rather than go to a trade school as she had initially intended, Lexi enlisted into the army on her eighteenth birthday and rolled out for basic training as soon as she’d graduated. Initially the army was just a way for her to send money home to her father, so that he could rest easier. 

Lexi however quickly found being in the army was an environment in which she thrived. A talented military mechanic with a keen mind for strategy, she rose quickly through the ranks. Her unit was her family, only away from them on short leaves to visit her ailing father. All of her money went towards his hospice care, a second stroke had ravaged the stoic man, leaving him incapable of caring for himself. Things shifted slightly after her first confirmed kill. Lexi did not know her mother was a wolf. The first time she shifted terrified her, and she struggled to keep the secret. She thought herself a freak. Only a talk with her father calmed her down, he had known. Lexi was angry that he had not thought to tell her before she enlisted, knowing that it was likely she would activate the curse. He told her that he had been stubbornly hanging onto hope that what he feared wasn’t true. 

For thirteen years she served faithfully within army ranks, doing her best to hide her condition. Until one day, horror struck. A dog had missed an IED. The explosion killed every man and woman within her unit. 

To this day, Lexi believes the only reason that she survived was because of her werewolf genes. Still, the blast had left its mark on her as well. The left half of her body was severely burned, her left eardrum ruptured from the force of the blast. Her right leg had needed to be reconstructed, and though healed now, she still walks with a bit of a limp. Certainly much less severe of a one than it would have been were she human. Hearing never returned to her left ear, and though her burns healed well, they still scarred thickly. The only saving grace there was that thanks to her lupine genetics she had not needed skin grafts. She spent six months in rehab, only to learn upon her release that her father had passed. Apparently his heart had not been able to handle the thought she might not survive. 

Alone, truly and utterly alone for the first time in her life, Lexi was terrified. Angry. Constantly getting in drunken brawls and fights. During one such fight she nearly killed the man, unable to temper her wolf strength while she was so inebriated. On the run from the cops is when she stumbled upon Lunar Cove. She’s been here for two weeks now and having gotten a job at the local mechanic and a house far enough away from others that she is sure they can’t hear her scream at night. Things are bleak. But maybe here she can learn to live again. Learn that the thing she has had to fight so hard to hide is a blessing rather than a curse.

☪ MISC INFO

Until she moved to Lunar Cove, Lexi had no idea that other super natural creatures existed, and was very limited in her knowledge about her own species.

Deaf in her left ear and walks with a limp on her right side.

Glares at anyone who stares at her scars for too long. She doesn't feel it is her obligation to hide the damage caused to her fighting for her country because they make the people who look at them uncomfortable.

More to come as I get to know her!

A map of Lexi's burn scars