My policy, reinforced by nola.com and most, if not all, of the rest of the Internet, is to not read comments at all, ever, and to slap myself in the face, twice, if I get sucked in.
But this one was worth reading, and I felt like I’d read a mini-novel through the epiphany and denouement and felt/feel slightly shaken.
I watched my wife die slowly, in agony, over the course of a year, eventually starving to death as the cancer made it impossible for her to metabolize food. Eventually, no amount of morphine, which was delivered by a pump directly into a cardiac vein via a catheter, eventually no amount of morphine was able to control the pain, as the cancer had colonized her pelvic bones, her abdomen, her intestines. Finally they had to put her in a coma, so that in her last days I sat watching her breathing grow shallower and shallower, as her RBC dropped and dropped, until, at last, weighing less than 90 pounds and her pelvis held together with metal, with a colostomy and constant urinary incontinence for years, after cancer took every bit of pleasure and common comfort, replacing it with agonizing pain, finally, in the middle of the night last January, she died. She was 44.
This shit happens every day. Your fellow human beings witness the horrors of war every day, in their bedrooms and in hospital rooms. When we were in hospice, there was a 4-year-old boy, dying of brain cancer: blind, unable to understand what was happening to him, his mother hysterical. The hospice nurses, who were inured to everything, had to draw straws to see who would care for him.
The horror. The horror.
Comment by SirFuddlestonHuddleston. Amour Is the Most Brutal Movie of the Year, Maybe Ever. Gawker.com, 12/13/12.