Tuesday 12 June morning and afternoon
It is raining in Brussels and the clouds cut out most of the daylight. I am sitting across from Lara who is in a deep induced sleep. Every ten, fifteen minutes or so, I get up from my Sarajevo story and whisper soothing words into her ear, letting her know all sorts of things, but mainly that I am there, and looking after her.
It is 10:54AM. Light gurgles emanate from her throat. She no longer has the oomph to cough and clear her throat. Still she is hanging on, my girl. There is nobody else in the room but the two of us, and the atmosphere is tranquil, though mildly upset by occasional thunderclaps. The light is somber. A fitting context somehow to the prospect that, soon enough, of the two hearts now beating in the room, one will be utterly still. A vibrant, beautiful and promising life will have snuffed out like a candle, the flame getting smaller and smaller, until - poof - a whisp of smoke emanates from a glowing wick. I am no longer wishing that moment to move forward. I'll take it as it comes. Let her decide her own moment. She has my blessing, how ever long it will take - as long as serenity and peacefulness are reigning. You only die once, I tell her, so it's entirely your call.
Her blood pressure now stands at 7 over 4. Low, even for someone like Lara, who regularly, in full health, clocks in at 9 over 5,5. Pulse at 115 (normally 55 for Lara). At 12:30PM the little monitor doesn't pick up a pulse anymore from her fingertops (earlier that morning our doctor had trouble finding her pulse at the wrist). Her breathing is quiet, steady but very shallow. I check her pressure: 73 over 45, pulse 115. At that pressure kidney failing is a stark possibility, says our doctor, and other organs may follow.
There is hardly any point to measuring pressure anymore. Now I just have to let her be.
"You're going to lose me", she told me on 19 April. I couldn't wrap my mind around it then, but learned to do so over the ensuing six, seven weeks. Now the moment is near - I know it. But the waiting is long. It is 3:19PM and she is still breathing. Fighting to the last - what else did I expect?
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