The day before you died when we went to see your doctor, he asked you a few questions mostly about the Methadone you were taking. It was a liquid and I gave you about 10ml. per day, I gave it to you in the morning before a warm, soothing protein shake. It helped to keep you from feeling nauseous once the drugs kicked in. Your doctor decided to switch you to Morphine because we felt we needed more on hand and the Methadone was hard to get. We had to go to Canada to get it and you didn't like the clinic. I think you felt people thought you were an addict, there was no easy way to tell you had cancer beyond the fact you were very thin. You don't like the Morphine, it makes you constipated and I worry that eventually you won't be able to swallow the hard pills. It doesn't occur to me that I can crush them up in jam as you did when I was small, before I could swallow an aspirin.
After the trip to the doctor I got the large morphine prescription filled via the Pharmacy in Campbell River. The bag of pills rode across on the ferry with the crew. Back at your house we watched "Cold Comfort Farm" but you were sleepy and uninterested. I call Catriona from the extension downstairs and let her know what is going on. Before bed I try to write a letter on your behalf, to a friend from college in Scotland. It's March 2nd and your Christmas letters remain unanswered.
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