2 April 1637
I woke up today trembling even worse, and cold. Not to mention drenched in sweat. I felt my throat grow tight with tears as I lay in bed, trying to summon the courage to get up.
I am afraid. I know what is wrong with me, and I'm going to try to make myself better. But my health is not what it once was and I am afraid. I don't know what I'll do if I can't get better.
I won't tell my daughters just yet. I might yet get better, and I know how to treat myself. No need to worry them if there's nothing to worry about. I have always been somewhat of a worrywart, and I would rather not pass that of all traits along.
5 April 1637
I made it into the village today, tired and trembling as I was. I did my work, even though some of those I treat commented I looked pale. I suppose I do. Meulin asked and I told her I'm often tired after winter because it's so much work. I found some rouge in the market to make myself less pale, so they don't worry until I'm better.
I made some steam with herbs for my lungs, mixed up a tea, and drank it with a little bit of honey. I should start feeling better in a few days. This is temporary. It must be.
9 April 1637
Nepeta can tell something is wrong with me. She's clever, but she's much quieter than Meulin, so she doesn't speak up as much, even though she sees as much. But I suppose she's concerned, because today as I cooked she said, "Mama?"
"Yes, Nepeta?"
"Are you sick?"
"I-why do you ask?"
"You're acting different. You're slow and shaky and you're sleeping more. You fell asleep when I was reading last night!"
"Well, I'm not feeling my best, Nepeta. But I'm treating myself, and I'm going to be just fine. No need to worry." I kissed her forehead and said, "Care to help me cook dinner?"
"Yes please."
So she helped me cook the stew, and after dinner we all read together.
I'm going to feel better. I'm not giving myself a choice.
13 April 1637
I woke up today with a painful cough. I've been steaming myself and drinking tea, and it seems to be staving off the fever, but the cough is still extremely unpleasant. I can feel the mucus in my chest. It isn't pleasant.
The fear is building, and I'm having trouble sleeping. I don't know if I'm going to survive. I've been getting so many little illnesses, so many light fevers and unpleasant little coughs, that I'm dreading the worst. I don't know how much time I might have left. Patrik was right. After what happened to me, I have not been as strong as I once was.
I'm going to spend whatever time I have left loving my daughters, and teaching them, and taking care of people in the village. I will do what I have always done-I will take care of people.
I might as well take care of myself, while I'm at it.
16 April 1637
Today is the horrible day. Today is the day my family was torn to shreds, never to be mended. I have a new family now but my old one could never be brought back. I have seen too much death to retain any hope for them. I never saw Simonn's body, but I trust Patrik's word. With all the guilt he holds, I have no doubt he now feels obliged to tell me the truth.
Besides, he's a terrible liar.
I did not do my rounds today. I told Meulin to go out on her own, and check on everyone for me. My daughters know that this is a hard day for me, and so they didn't ask too many questions.
Nepeta asked if I'd like it if she sat with me for a while. I nodded, and she didn't say anything. We just sat in the library for a long time, and it felt comfortable to be with my younger daughter. She's the most wonderful child. A child-she is thirteen, and that's still a child yet, although she's no longer as young as she once was. I love her more than anything, except my elder daughter.
I know I should tell them, but I'm not certain yet, and I don't want them to know.
20 April 1637
I still have a fever. It has been low, but persistent. It won't go away. I'm terribly frightened. I'm not ready. I've been praying every night, but I think perhaps this cup will not pass from me. I need more time. I need to teach Meulin more, and to help Nepeta find what she wants to do in life. I need to be at their weddings and their births, help them raise their little ones and teach my granddaughter how to be the midwife. I need to be there for them! I just need more time.
I will keep praying, but then, it may be my time. When I dreamed of my love, he said it wouldn't be long before I met him again. I don't typically put much stock in my dreams-they don't usually mean much. But my body might know that its time is running out.
I should tell my girls.
22 April 1637
I feel terribly weak. My knees trembling and the cough is deep in my chest. When Patrik came today for lunch, he could tell. I could hardly carry his bowl to the table.
"Dianna, are you feeling well?"
"No, Patrik. I'm not."
"Are you ill?" he asked, his voice tight.
"I…yes, I am. I'm not sure I'm going to make it. I've tried everything I know, and I'm not getting any better."
"Let me pay for a physician."
"I don't trust that man."
"Please, let him look at you. Let him try."
I didn't know how to explain the ways I'm afraid of strange men. So I just said, "Only if you are with him. The entire time."
"I-I suppose I can do that."
I nodded, and he left to find the physician.
24 April 1637
The physician came today while my daughters were out.
"Hello, Dr. Sloan," I said.
"Hello, Miss Smith. I understand you are not feeling well."
"That is true," I said. "And my good friend Patrik insisted I see you."
"Or that I come to see you, rather."
"Yes. Come in. And Patrik, may I make you some tea?"
"Is Mr. Zahhak staying?"
"Yes."
"May I ask why?"
"Dr. Sloan, I don't trust you as far as I could throw you. Patrik will ensure that I am safe."
He frowned, but set about examining me. He didn't do it at all like I would have, starting with listening to my lungs and heart before asking how I felt. He told me I have winter fever, which I already knew, and then set me some treatments.
I had already done everything he recommended, because I know how to treat winter fever. And so he left, and that is all there is.
"Dianna?" Patrik asked.
"Yes?"
"What will you tell your daughters?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But…I will tell them something. And I'll tell them that you can help them if they need it."
He nodded. "Always."
I don't know what or when or…anything, really. I don't know how to tell my own daughters what is going to happen to me. I've never felt so lost.
24 April 1637
My Meulin did her first birth on her own today. I was too weak to go into the village with her, and so she did it all on her own.
I'm so proud I could cry. Mother and child both survived, and when she came home covered in blood she was smiling brighter than the sun.
"I did it!" she said. "She gave birth and everything was fine!"
"I'm so proud of you, little love," I told her. "So proud." I kissed her forehead. "Now get some sleep. You must be exhausted."
She nodded, rinsed herself off with the water I had brought in, and immediately fell asleep. I tucked her in, led Button back to my room, and now am prepared to go to bed.
27 April 1637
I sat down with them today for dinner and said, "Girls, I have something I need to tell you."
"What is it, Mama?" Meulin asked.
"I…I'm not well," I said. "I have winter fever. And I have tried, and I am trying, but, my daughters…I am not going to live long."
Nepeta stared at me, unmoving, but Meulin burst into tears.
"No you're not!" Meulin said. "You're going to be fine."
"Little love, I want to believe it as much as you do. And I am going to try. I know many remedies, and I'm going to fight it. But I am not as strong as I once was."
"What are we going to do?" Meulin asked. "We still need you, Mama! I do!"
"Mr. Zahhak can help you. He has promised me that whatever happens, if you need anything, you can go to him."
"Mama, you can't die!" Meulin said. "You-you can't, you can't, you just can't…"
Nepeta was sitting so terribly still I couldn't bear it.
"Nepeta?"
"It's-it's not fair," she said. "You're not done. You're still my mama."
"I'll always be your mama," I said. "I will always be in your hearts. No matter what happens to me, you will always have me in your hearts."
"But not with us," Meulin said.
"What if I have another nightmare?"
"You can remember me, and you will have each other."
"But Mama…" Nepeta said, her eyes huge and sad.
"It's not going to be easy," I said. "For me either. I can't tell you girls how much I love you and how much I don't want to leave you. But I may not have a choice. And for now, we can enjoy the time we have together."
"How can we?" Meulin asked.
"It's going to be hard," I said. "But for now, my daughters, I want to leave you with the best memories I can. How about we read tonight?"
Meulin nodded, biting her lip, and Nepeta reached out to take my hand.
It's going to be alright. Or so I hope.
1 May 1637
My cough is worse. Today I managed to bring up a rather disgusting mucus, all green and yellow. I'm not sure now much longer I can do my work, because even after just walking to the village I'm feeling breathless and tired. My chest hurts, like it's been stabbed. It's awful.
I need to make plans. The people I treat need to know.
5 May 1637
Today was my last day in the village, unless I recover. I told everyone I treat, everyone I could find, that I wasn't well and I was not going to live much longer.
"Mary, what on Earth do you mean?" Elizabeth asked. (Not Elizabeth who was my friend of a sort when I was younger, who I was terribly unfair to in my head, Elizabeth who's married to the cooper.)
"I mean that…most likely, I am going to pass on, and soon."
"How-how can you know that?"
"I have winter fever. I even went to the physician, and he agreed. My daughter, Meulin, will be doing what I've done, and she can help with births and such. And the physician isn't going anywhere." I don't trust him, but he's better than nothing. "It's going to be alright. Life will go on."
"But…my goodness, how can you be certain you are going to pass?"
"The same way I know with people I treat. There are points from which we can't come back. I've made my peace. It's going to be alright."
She frowned, but took my hand and said, "Well, tell me if there's anything I can do for you."
"Thank you."
Almost everyone said much the same. But I won't need anything. I can take care of myself, and I don't want to make life harder for anyone else.
8 May 1637
I could hardly get out of bed today. Each cough is like a stab in the chest, and my fever is going up, despite everything I've tried to do. I'm not stopping treating myself, but it's not working. I'm not hungry and I just want to sleep.
Patrik and Mabell have come over every other day since I told the village. Mabell cooks for me and helps me move around and prepare my remedies, and Patrik watches the children. He brings his sons over, since Nepeta and Equius are so close, but my daughters are not feeling up to much.
I try to comfort them. We read together in the library and I hug them goodnight, but they're grieving. I don't think I can fix it. There's nothing for it but time.
Button can tell. She knows something's wrong. She curls up to me at night and sits on my chest and purrs, and oddly it helps ease the pain.
And it helps to know that Button is there. She's only a cat, but she'll be around keeping mice out of the food after I'm gone.
11 May 1637
I'm trembling. I can hardly write. Patrik has been sitting with me and helping me eat, since I'm not hungry and I can't get warm. My girls sit with me sometimes, and at night we read together.
I don't think they want to leave to go live with Patrik. Meulin says this is her home, and she promised me she'll manage. They can, if they like, but they can do what they like.
I love them so much. I wish I had more time.
14 May 1637
I don't think I'm going to live much longer. I can hardly write. So today I called my girls to my room to tell them how much I love them.
"My daughters, you have been such a blessing to me. You have been the light in my life and the most precious love I've ever had. I love you both so much. I only wish you could feel it."
"Of course we feel that you love us," Nepeta said. "You always have."
I couldn't help but smile. "I just want you to know. I don't have much time, my loves. Please, if you need anything, Mr. and Mrs. Zahhak will help you. They've both promised they would even take you in for a time if you need."
"But Mama, they won't be you," Meulin said. "You saved our lives. You've done so much for us."
"You're my daughters," I said. "I've only done my job."
"I'm going to miss you, Mama," Nepeta said, a tear dripping down her nose.
With that, I was crying too, and so was Meulin, and we all just cried together on my bed and told each other we love each other.
I'm writing this down because this is it. I can hardly keep a thought straight in my head and I think I'm going to die soon. I can't even make my own medicine.
I wished for more time, but it looks like this is all I have. I hope I've done enough. I hope in the next life I can see my first family, and later my daughters. I hope my daughters have happy lives and do what will make them happy.
I've been saying onwards, but this is the end of that. Everything ends. Death is part of life. I know these things, but accepting them is so difficult. I've lost and loved and lived, and now I'm going to die.
I might as well take one more deep breath, and step forwards. I've never followed the path I was supposed to or even the one I had planned on, but each time I have taken the step forwards and found a new adventure. That said, I am afraid. I don't know what will happen next. I don't know if I will go to heaven or hell or purgatory or what have you, and I don't know if I will see my family again. I don't know what will happen to Meulin or Nepeta, or to Patrik or Mabell or Etta. I can't know anymore. And I'm afraid.
Five things I like about myself. I've been a good mother, and I've been a good midwife, and I'm smart, and I am caring. And I have loved so many people. I can carry those with me into the next life.
This is it. My last journal. Here ends my record of my own life.
Onwards, then.
Here lies Dianna Vantas
Dearly loved mother, wife, daughter, and friend
22 August 1595-14 May 1637
For when I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
—Matthew 25:35-36