She's Sherrie

Jeff presented with his company colors by his men.   Jeff slept most of the time; I was at the hospital with him.  He was heavily medicated all of the time.  I don't think he was even aware that I was there.  Maybe he did because a couple of weeks before he died, he told me that his brothers and I were the only people in the world that cared about him.  So maybe he knew. On weekends I would stay there until two or three in the morning.  It was, I guess, a death watch.  One of the cafeteria workers, an older lady, was always so concerned about him not eating.  Technically I suppose she had to leave the food, and when she would come back to pick up his untouched tray of food, she would get tears in her eyes.  She didn't really know exactly what his illness was.  One evening she asked me what was wrong with him.  "Terminal colon cancer."  She looked horrified, "How old is he?"  "Thirty-four."  "I'm so sorry; I knew it was something

Always open. The two months that I worked before Jeff finally was placed in hospice care were hell. My mind was with my child; my body was at work.  I would leave work and go to the hospital.  The earliest I ever left was 12:30 am.  I had to be up at 5:15 to get ready for work.   The sicker Jeff got, the longer I stayed.  There were crisis nights when I only had an hour's sleep. It took a toll on me; the stress and lack of sleep were my two constant companions. After Jeff's surgery and recovery time of 9 days, he was released.  He was pretty much back to his usual self for about five days and then began to feel ill again.  He was in pain, and it was increasing every day.  His last meal was on July 5, the day after coming home from the hospital.  He tried to eat, but it was making him sick and hurting his stomach.  He stopped eating altogether.  On the day he died, he weighed about 75 pounds; at the beginning of his illness, he weighed 220.  He drank coke or Slurpees; th

National Christm as Tree 1968 Christmas 1968 would be the last Christmas as a young, carefree, not quite an adult.  Each year relationships during high school changed.  My life, as well as my grouping of friends, changed as well.  Shelley had been closer during my first three years of high school, Judy was now closer to me.  We were seniors, and that did seem to make a difference in interests and maturity levels. Judy and I both participated in the Distributive Education or Work-Study program, meaning we only attended three classes a day and worked the remainder of the day.  That gave us a nice break depending on our work hours of anywhere from an hour to two and a half hours before we went to work.  We had a lot of pleasant long lunch hours with our classmates before we "clocked in." Somewhere in early October, Judy stayed with my mom and me for a while.  It was like having a sister, but one that you liked and got along with.  We both went to school and worked, and