Vermilioncore
fear god
- Joined
- Oct 17, 2019
- Posts
- 70,432
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We had been together for 23 years, since we met at college. We had our dream jobs, a nice house in the suburb and to top it all a beautiful daughter. Then everything crumbled three years ago, when he was diagnosed with scleroderma. At that time our daughter was two, and he loved playing with her everyday after work. At first he complained of some pains in the joints, nothing serious we thought. Then he had a hard time walking far distances, and before we knew it he couldn't walk at all. He was diagnosed with scleroderma soon after, and according to the doctors he was the 1 in a million case in which the disease progressed so rapidly that death was certain. In a matter of months I saw my loving husband and the best man in the world turn into a ghost of himself. He couldn't talk properly or breath autonomously, he was trapped in his body. He only communicated by blinking. Three months ago he nearly died of a heart attack, and since then he decided that he didn't want to die in the hospital, but receive cures at home. The doctors were contrary, but he was unmovable. Once we were alone he looked at me, and for a brief moment a I saw the eyes with which I fell in love 23 years ago. He asked me not to intervene if he had another heart attack. I was shocked, he had always been a fighter and I couldn't believe that he gave up. I quickly dismissed it, and only the idea was repulsive to think about. But yesterday, I didn't think about it. While I watched my husband heartbeat flatten, I didn't get up to call 911. I just stayed there, looking at the only man I ever loved go away. And for how much I try to convince myself that I did it for him, I can't help to admit that I did it more for myself. Spending the last years caring exclusively for my husband was exhausting. I had to have our daughter live with my mom because I couldn't take care of her. I left my job and all I had for this. I loved and I still love my husband, but I decided my selfishness had the priority. How could I ever look at my daughter's face, knowing that I killed her father? How could I ever look in the mirror knowing that I am looking at a murderer? I don't want sympathy o kind words, I don't deserve them. What I did was unforgivable, from every standpoint. But I will apologize personally soon