One Year

We were shopping, I was holding her hand. She looked at me with those big blue eyes and pointed meekly to a candy bar.
"Can I get it?" she asked, cheerful as ever, blissfully unaware of how frail she had become.

I sighed, contemplating if we would even have enough to eat that week, let alone buy my daughter some candy.
"Sorry Lou, not today."
I watched as she frowned, yet nodded. She understood, but god how I wish I could have given her that stupid candy.
She squeezed my hand as she watched my smile sink, to which I smiled faintly. Her grasp was so very weak. We grabbed a few items we desperately needed, like toilet roll and the same incredibly cheap food we'd had for months.
I hurried my mother along with us as she asked for various items. She was such a strong woman just a few years ago, yet look at her now. Did she even remember my name?
"Vic!" she yelled. Close enough, I suppose.
"Yes mother?" I replied, turning to face her. I watched as my mother pointed to Louisa. My poor daughter. She was on the floor in tears and, as I sat next to her, I pulled out a bucket.
Quickly, she snatched it out of my hands and began spluttering reddish mucus into the bucket.

She was crying.
How could I help? What could I do?

I sighed and wrapped an arm around her, reminding her she wasn't alone. I watched as she spluttered into the bucket and did the only thing I know how to do. Run my hands up and down her back in a circular motion, and holding what remained of, her black hair back, in a poor attempt at comforting her.
The splutters began to turn into vomiting. Thick, red vomit.
I continued to rub her back as others looked our way. My mother tried to usher them along as best she could without hurting herself.
Some of the employees came over and attempted to help by standing Lou up, but all she did was fall back to the floor. I requested my mother go get the wheelchair from the car.
One of the other employees followed her, after I had asked them to, seeing her hobble to the car with a great struggle.

Once mother and the worker had returned, with help from the employees, we got Lou into the wheelchair, bucket placed on her lap.
We slowly lowered her into the car and were on our way back home, all the while she was still throwing up. There was nothing anyone could do to help her.

Upon arriving home, mother helped me get my poor daughter back into her wheelchair. She was now fast asleep. She'd had a long day, bless her heart.
I tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, and then headed into the living room, to help walk mother to bed.

She hobbled to the room that was once mine, before Lou came along, and I watched as she placed a hand on her bedside table, before slowly lowering herself onto the bed with a yelp of pain.
Nothing could be done for either of the people I loved the most in my life. I was heartbroken.
We were just too broke.

After guiding mother, I sat on the living room couch, attempting to get comfortable as I prepared to slumber.
I turned the TV on. I couldn't sleep without background noise anymore, after living a year with my daughter's consecutive vomiting.
As I watched, my mind began to race. Sleep swiftly became a thing of the past within my life, as I had to constantly be on guard for Lou and mother.
It was tiresome, but, I'd do whatever I could to keep my lights safe.
I began contemplating just how bad their conditions were getting. We'd had appointments for Lou, but that didn't mean we could afford them. Let alone, if it would work.

[to be continued...]