There is no rhyme or reason to this.
It is beyond human.
She's gone three weeks without food - five days without any real water.
How can this be happening?
Why is this happening?
Today she looked at me, sat up and tried to get out of bed. After 24 hours of shallow breathing, and no talking, she looked right at me and with much effort said, "I want to know how to get out." I knew what she meant, but did not have a good answer.
A visitor in her room said, "but it's so cold outside."
Gramma turned her head and very clearly said, "I don't want to go outside."
After a few minutes, I curled up next to her and said, "I don't know how to get out. That isn't my department, I'm just sitting here waiting for the train with you. I do know that if you want to get out, you have to walk away from my voice. When you see Dad, when you see something beautiful, when you hear wonderful music, you walk away from me and go towards it - that's how you get out."
Is that even right? How the hell would I know? It's like she's stuck in a giant fun house mirror room looking for the exit.
I keep telling her that I am listening my very best, much better than when I was 13. I tell her that I am trying to do what she wants, and apologize for messing up. She flat out refuses medication for five hours.
A few other crystal clear sentences she's shared with me tonight:
"Somebody help me!"
"I am stuck here. Why am I stuck here?"
"There will never be another . . ."
"I want to know . . ."
"I want you to not . . . "
"Listen to me, if you see Devin . . ."
I will spend the rest of my life filling in the blanks.