Laurel Dunaway
Journal Entry
Dad was not well today. He was worse than not well. He was as bad as I’ve seen him. The nurse—he has another new one—paged Dr. Hastings, who ordered a bump on his morphine, which put Dad out for most of the afternoon. This was lucky since I couldn’t be there on account of my therapy appointment.
Not that I have much experience with shrinks—but I like James’s choice well enough. She’s unassuming. Pretty, in an unconventional kind of way. Exactly what I assumed my husband would have picked out.
At first, I saw her twice a week. I thought I’d hate it. I thought the abdication of control just might do me in. But it wasn’t like that at all. It was a relief. It was nice to have someone to talk to.
Still. To have someone peeking into your life that way, to have
