As Annajane lay dying

I was flying to New York, quietly amazed that I could just stare out the window and watch the pretty lights of the city. Perhaps I am calm about the cycle, I thought. Perhpas it is good to know that it will be the last.

I was on the phone with Beaker, carping bitterly about his travel schedule. Damnit, my ovaries are more important than your conference, honey. Let me burst into a little flash of tears so you know how true that is.

I was reading Quicksilver late into the night, way too late for when I needed to wake up. I didn't like the Jack Steptoe section anywhere near as much as the Daniel Waterhouse section, but I'm never into historical battle scenes. And then my cellphone rang. A doctor with a thick European accent, just like Dr. Brash's, told me he had bad news.

They don't know what happened. She went to bed yesterday evening, and the next check found her cold. The psychiatrist who called me is not her regular doctor and didn't know whether there had been other medical complications since I last saw her.

I don't know what happens next.

Comments

[cherylc]

I'm a first time commenter, and I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry. I hope things go as well as they can.

[New Kid on the Hallway]

I've been reading for a while though never commented before - just wanted say how sorry I am.

[Cecily]

I'm so sorry to hear that. Wow. A lot to deal with.

[profgrrrrl]

I'm so sorry that all of this has happened all at once. Take care of yourself. And know that lots of the folks in the blogosphere will be thinking of you and sending positive thoughts your way.

[bitchphd]

I'm so sorry. What a shock. I will be thinking of you.

[Juno]

I am so sorry to hear about Anna Jane. I am so glad you got to visit with her during your last trip. We are thinking of you.

[mary]

I've never posted before but have been following your blog (my husband is a professor in the midwest so I can sort of relate). Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Take care of yourself; we're thinking of you.

[Julie]

Emma Jane, I'm so sorry for your loss.

[Isabel]

I'm so sorry. What crazy timing. I wish I had something more helpful to say...

[Wendy]

I'm also a longtime reader, first time commenter. I've followed your ups and downs and been amazed by your resilience. I'm so sorry, and I hope that you'll be well.

[Lisa]

Oh, honey. I'm so sorry.

[B. Mare]

I'm so very sorry. You are in my thoughts.

[kate]

I am so sorry.

[Short North Mama]

You and your family will be in my thoughts. I am so sorry for your loss.

[unexplained]

Delurking to say how very sorry I am for your loss...

[tatz]

I'm sorry.

Take good care.

[Luolin]

Another reader de-lurking to say I'm sorry this had to happen to you now.

[Michele]

I am so sorry. So, so sorry.

[Mary]

Sorry about your loss.

[Kay]

Delurking...I just lost my mom in May. It's going to be really rough for a while, especially when it's a shock like this. Try to be as gentle with yourself as possible. I'm in New York City. If you need **ANYTHING**, please feel free to email me. Condolences, Kay

[robin]

I'm delurking to say I'm so very sorry.

-Robin

[Steph]

I am so very sorry. Condolences.

[Nels]

This is the third blog I've read this Thanksgiving day that mentions such a loss in the past couple of days. You are not alone. Thinking of you today.

[What Now?]

How terribly sad. Emma Jane, I'm so sorry for your loss.

[blaise]

61

Fucking hell.

My mother died five years ago at the age of 64. I stood over the paramedics and yelled at them not to try to resucitate her, as she had end stage kidney cancer.

I know from reading your blog how complicated your relationship with your mother was. We grieve for what we never had. Well, I do, anyway.

By the way -- you are allowed to feel free now. That is not a bad feeling.

Blaise