Kristin is on her way out

I’ve had since 2004 to prepare for this, and I thought I was, but it never happens like you think it will. And you’re never as prepared as you think you are.

Kristin had started chemo three weeks ago, and there were some grounds for optimism–new research showing improved results with the treatment. But on Wednesday last week, after only two treatments, she came home from the library with severe shivers. That happened several times over the next day, and she was becoming increasingly addled and unresponsive, but we both thought it was side effects of the chemo. She even soldiered on with her work into Thursday.

Yesterday morning she was totally unresponsive, so I called 911. It turned out that she had developed pneumonia (one lung filled up totally from her last x-ray on Sept. 22nd) and then sepsis. She’s now in the ICU at the local hospital, and her vital signs are improving, but the doctor informed me that her kidneys are failing from the sepsis. He wouldn’t give a time frame, but the ER doctor didn’t give her much longer than two days (meaning tomorrow).

I walk around the house, and all the things from our time overseas bring back memories of her, and I can’t stop crying. I look at the empty rocking chair in front of the woodstove, where she would sit reading every night during the winter, and regret not taking at least one picture of her there with the glow of the fire on her. I don’t know how I can continue living here after she’s gone. –Kevin Millham