Wow

[Guest guest]

I'm not sure how to explain this except to tell you exactly what

happened. I've been sitting here at my desk answering e-mail from my

family as well as some items for this group. Kjersten was in bed,

asleep, and I was typing away with my cat curled around my keyboard

when Kjersten suddenly cried out " I need help! "

I was out of my office within seconds and into the living room where

I found her standing unsteadily. " What do you need? " I said, taking

her by the arm ('cause I was worried she would fall down).

She said, " I need help with this now! "

" OK, " I said, " I'll be glad to help. What do you want me to do? "

" THIS! " she said, " You have to help me with this! "

To make a painful story very short, she was very upset...angry,

actually, because I did not know what " THIS " was. She could not

explain it. Through trial and a lot of error, I managed to put a

sheet on the sofa and then blankets and quilt on top of her. But

that turned out to be wrong because she wanted the quilt on first and

the blankets on top of that.

One of the things that happens with liver disease is that people

become mentally confused. The enulose is supposed to counter that.

Kjersten is sure that she is mentally sound because she does two

crossword puzzles a day from the paper. But that is a small,

narrowly defined world...not much bigger than the endless reruns of

M*A*S*H she has on tape and watches almost all day long.

Before Kjersten and I were married, I worked with her for seveal

years in advertising. I was an account exec...later managing editor

for several publications and she was " my " graphic artist...the one I

went to all the time. She was not just bright and quick, but

brilliant and creative.

I am afraid that the person I loved is gone...don't get me wrong...I

still love Kjersten very much...but much of my life today is based on

loyalty to someone I loved dearly...someone I will always be faithful

to...but someone who is disappearing into a fog that seems to get

deeper every day. Sometimes I pull her back from the fog and it's

like it used to be. But one day, I won't be able to pull her back.

I have already thought about and, perhaps, adjusted to her death. We

have already picked out the cemetary and plot...grim, perhaps, but

not only necessary but good. We are near Fellsmere, an old and

historic town in Florida...she will be buried with many of the

pioneers of the central east coast. I will too. I will be able to

ride my bike to the gravesite, sit there, watch the river

nearby...listen to the scrub jays in the tall pines ... and talk to

her.

The hard part is the in-between.... When I don't know what " this "

is. When I put the blankets on first and the quilt on last (which, I

think, is " normal " or at least " usual " ) and get yelled at (and even

cursed at--which is very unusual for Kjersten)...I am a very patient

person...I don't get angry because of what Kjersten said..I actually

become sad because I know she is in pain and I don't know how to

relive it...I really don't even know what kind of pain or why or

where...I just don't know, if you will, what " THIS " means.

I know that as the amonia level increases, so does the confusion

level. Is this what I'm dealing with here and, if so, is there a

solution...??

Dennis