Slippage

Friday 25 May

Round'about six last night, the weather had turned a little balmy and it felt like a rain storm was in the air. Our apartment has this large veranda, or covered terrace, in the back, where the atmosphere is quiet and green. Lara had walked, without oxygen, from the living room to her recliner on the veranda and was hooked up to the oxygen machine in the back. Eli and Nick joined us there for tapas and wine, and a spirited time was had by all.

Soon enough a blinding rain storm burst loose, refreshing the air. I fixed us all some dinner. Lara migrated back to her bed, where Elisabetta kept her company. Girl talk and just some quiet presence.

The next morning it became clear what price she had paid. It doesn't come as a surprise. Since about a week she has been loosing strength. the nurse has noticed it as well. Slippage. "I am so tired, Toine!" She looked it, too. Completely exhausted. She asked to be spoon-fed her breakfast, and told me to go slowly after the first bite. Shall I make you your cappu first, I asked? A faint nod, her face somehow in a sad expression.  As soon as the daily toilettage is over, she will probably sleep throughout the morning.

I will drive to Antwerp and pick up her new homeopathic medicines. Need to be there by noon. I hope nothing dramatic happens while I am on the road.