He has withdrawn. He stares at things I cannot see. He mumbles, but I don't think it is to me. I tell him often that I love him. I let him know we will be okay. I respect his 'space.'
He has reduced the amount of food and fluids that he wants to take in. Sips of water. Or a cold sip of Root beer. No food yesterday at all. Today a cup of jello is all. When he's done he no longer opens his mouth. He pushes the straw away with his tongue. His eyes appear more sunken. There are times I hear a gurgling or rattling noise. In the nursing field we called this the 'death rattle'. It stops if I change his position. Or we can administer drops of Atropine to help.
His hands are cold and at times blue. His feet are still warm. I do not yet see signs of mottling. It is changes in his circulation.His heart rate is slow and irregular.
He does not communicate at all. It is hard for him. I don't push it. We've said all that we need to say. I know how much he loves me and the family. He has told us all often. He showed us by the way we lived our lives. I don't think there is a doubt among any of us that this is the best man, the smartest man, the kindest man, the most sensitive and loving man that we have ever known.
His time is coming. Death is anxiously standing in the shadows. I look away and back again to see if he is still there. He is....waiting, watching, knowing that soon he will be accompanying a very important man from this earth. And we will stay behind!