Orbit

Saturday 9 June afternoon

"Come sit with me", she said, once I was back from grocery shopping. I'll do better than that, I said, and lie down right beside you. Oh, she liked that.

There is a serene atmosphere hanging in the room. The drone and gurgle of the oxygen machine now banished to the kitchen, the music from the stereo (Mozart, clarinet concerto at Lara's request) can be peacefully enjoyed at a very soft volume. Positively soothing. Your friend is clad in a black flowy cotton skirt, a silk aqua top, a black cotton sleeved vest and a scarf in matching colors, which she described  as 'funky' when she told me to go find it. Her breathing is quiet but shallow, and thankfully the coughing fits are fewer and shorter. Lips slightly apart, her hands cool.

You can tell she is losing strength. You take her fingers and there is hardly any tension in the muscles. As if she is reserving whatever she's got left on vital functions such as heartbeat and respiration. The occasional visitor (hardly any are planned at this stage) still gets to have an intelligent conversation out of her; she does continue to make sense, always interested to hear the latest family news and what not else. Invariably, though, at a certain point she lets people know she can't go on anymore. A long nap follows the inevitable goodbye.

Our doctor was in early this morning (10:30AM), and delighted to see us sitting at the table, then joining us for coffee. We talked. The GP told Lara that her luggage was labeled, checked in and safely on board, while her boarding pass was in her hand. All she needed to do was join the cue, find her seat, relax and enjoy departure. Nobody was holding her back. "Good to hear that being said out loud", was Lara's response.

Destination unknown. Lara doesn't believe in afterlife, and that, to her, is the scary part of dying: not knowing where you will end up. Our doctor does believe as a good catholic. She refers to people having come back from a near-death experience, the closest proof to witness testimony. Such people recount wonderous experiences and invariably they didn't want to come back down to earth any more. Sounds like a recommended environment, she suggests.

Lara's sleep tends to be deeper and deeper. Every time she's woken up, she comes from farther away, a pattern that is likely to grow more intense over the coming days. Until she spins off into orbit, irretrievably.