The next three weeks would become days in and out of constant vigil for me. I ate and slept on a recliner in the living room next to the hospital bed so that I would be near in case my partner needed anything. My mother was a great source of strength for me. She would come by everyday to relieve me for a short period of time so that I could run errands, or go to the doctor myself (the last thing I needed now was for my own HIV status to go to hell!). I was always afraid to leave though because I was sure something would happen to my partner while I was gone, and I would not have been able to live with that thought had it happened, and I had not been there for him. I had to remain strong for everyone, including myself!
The first week wasn't so bad. My partner, although in some pain, was lucid and we were able to talk. We discussed all the necessary details as to burial etc. Not my best topic of discussion, but one that need to be discussed. He would try to eat, but most of the time what he ate just came back the "WRONG WAY". I would clean him up, and he would apologize. He would get so frustrated and mad, because he didn't want to be treated like a child. His body unfortunately wanted to act just the opposite, and wasn't about to let him be in control. Towards the end of the first week we had to resort to using adult diapers, since he was unable to even walk to the bathroom. Another humiliation that he hated, but soon it wouldn't matter. I did my best to convince him that he had nothing to be ashamed of, and reassured him that I would be there to clean up whatever messes would occur. He finally accepted this fact and allowed me to take care of such things.
During the second week my partner started to slip in and out of reality. The pain was getting worse, so I had to increase his morphine. This only made him sleep more and respond less to the world around him. When he was not sleeping what we did talk about usually made no sense, so I would have to try to reply the best I could to his requests. I had a very difficult time watching what used to be such a vibrant, intelligent, and artistic individual slowly slip away from me. It just wasn't fair! I started to ask God "Why?". I also prayed for God to please just take all the pain and suffering away from the person I had loved for these past seven years, and to please bring him some peace. Soon, God would answer my prayers.
The last week of my partners’ life was virtually without communication. Generally he would just mumble things that were incoherent, but occasionally he would say, "I'm sorry. I love you." I knew at those moments he knew what he was saying, and I would just hold his hand and tell him "I love you too". Those moments meant so much to me I will never forget them for as long as I live. On March 16th my partner was having a very bad day, with much difficulty breathing, and he seemed to be extremely agitated. I sat on his bed and held his hands trying to comfort him. Out of nowhere he suddenly said, "I'm tired". I knew what he meant, so my only response was to put my arms around him, and I told him "That it was okay to let go now, and everything would be okay" At 5:30 that day one last time, as I held him, he once again said "I'm sorry. I love you". He then quietly took one last breath and passed away in my arms. The bottom of my world dropped out from beneath me, and a tear rolled down my cheek!
