I set a timer to wake me up every three hours. And I learned that, in my sleep cycle, the three hour mark has me deep, deep in some hard sleep. But I got up and got the dog out and we had a successful pee-in-the-bed-free night! But man, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I have no idea how new parents do it.
The Butcher got home way late last night.
A couple of the texts he sent me yesterday have me nervous that he’s not convinced that this is the right course of action.
But then, he didn’t wake up to find him and her sleeping in her piss two nights in a row. He didn’t have to clean up accidents during the day two days before that. And the way you can run your finger in the hollow spot between her back rib and whatever is supposed to be just under her rib is new, from yesterday. And he’s got to see for himself how she shakes when she breathes in, like it hurts her.
I’m glad, then, that I scheduled it for Thursday, even if it means a couple more nights of shitty sleep on both her and my part, because clearly, we turned a dreadful corner while he was gone and he needs to see that there’s no coming back from it.
But I really hate that for him. What I learned early Sunday morning, he’s got to learn first-hand today.
It’s a terrible business, waiting around for Death.