💾 Archived View for zaibatsu.circumlunar.space › ~christina › phlog › 2020-10-09.txt captured on 2020-10-31 at 02:03:19.
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My husband died a half-hour ago. The hospital called to tell me. I had attempted to end a call with his parents, to tell them he had pneumonia, his second bout, and he wasn't likely to recover. I had visited him two hours earlier: he was conscious, but he was on oxygen and wasn't eating his dinner. I held his hand, I kissed him on the mouth and on his hand and I told him I loved him. I texted his parents while I was getting the news from the doctor. I told our son. The doctor asked on three occasions if I wanted to come by. At this hospital the visits are limited to essential, and both my son and I visited separately, as per hospital rules, as per the first request. The second occasion came shortly after we returned from dinner, we were ambivalent but willing. The third occasion we were less willing, the doctor told us lots of people don't come by for a postmortem viewing. I had some to drink anyway. My husband was 52. He died of pneumonia, a complication of metastasized pancreatic cancer. We miss him.