The Aerie
11:16
At Moldy's for my first overnight. In some ways I feel a litle
ashamed: by the time I have gotten around to taking an overnight,
Moldy is so far gone that there really isn't much to the job anymore.
Now he's possibly not as bad as he appears: this morning his new nurse
visiting for hospice care gave him 10 mg of morphine instead of five,
so he's been zonked out all day.
At 10 we gave him his meds
6 ml (6 full droppers) desamethasone
2 mg loranzapam liquid from fridge
2 tsp liquid naprosin
And he really didn't quite wake up for them. He cracked a couple of
watery glances, but I'm not sure he even sees anymore.
Took the hassock for a walk, yadda yadda, not too much I care to
report there, but no disasters. It was getting dark and I realized
that if it wasn't for Moldy's mutt, I'd probably never have taken an
evening walk this year. Now cool muggy evenings will probably forever
be associated with walking this dog while my friend lay dying by
inches.
Blondie was out when I got there, but returned right at 10 (meds
time). I urged her to goto bed, but she had other plans. At 10:30 Dave
showed u to take her to First Avenue. That's cool by me: I'm eager to
help out as long as my being here lets her do something she couldn't
otherwise do (like sleep). I just hope she doesn't come back and then
stay up all night. That would miss the whole point.
So now Moldy's sister is catching a couple hours on the couch, I'm
writing this, and hopefully next I'll get to some writing. More later
maybe.
2:30
Blondie is back. Moldy has been resting quietly, with just a couple of
coughs now and then, but she is alert for any signs of trouble. Soon
she fixes on two things: parts of his body are slightly hot, while
others are somewhat cool, and his feet are starting to get swollen.
When I arrived his hands were on a pillow to reduce their swelling,
and now the edema has gone to his feet.
A long, whispered conference with Moldy's sister ensues, to which I am
not privy, culminating in a phone call to the ask-a-nurse line. The
call is still underway.
But while we were rolling Moldy over to his other side (in order to
reduce the danger of pneumonia) he roused somewhat. His eyes opened.
And having gotten him tucked in, his sister tearfully leaned over to
kiss his forehead. As she did so her hair fell across his eyes.
He didn't blink. When no one was looking, I waved a hand in front of
his face. He's blind.
5:00 a.m.
Well, she's finally in bed. Blondie stayed out till 2:30, then said
she needed to relax. Of course she was staying up till his 4:30
medications, because she knew I was clueless. Well, I could have
probably managed the meds, but I'm glad she stayed because his
catheter needed replacing and frankly I wasn't up to that task.
He's not responding to much. Touch brings about a reaction, and
sticking a bottle in his mouth gets him to suck and swallow
(apparently not always). But that's it. I'm not sure if he can hear.
And it's frustrating. I guess it's just how I'm dealing with it, but
it's hard for me to watch Blondie working so hard to perfect his care.
Every contingency is planned for. Everything is precisely right.
And why? He's not there anymore.
Of course, he was gone before, thirteen weeks ago, and he came back.
But that was different. He was still able-bodied, he walked, and
talked after that. It's not going to be like that this time.
But this is her experience, not mine. I'm just there to support. I
can't help her work through this or change how she's going to do it. I
tried getting her to go to sleep earlier and she bit my head off. She
will do what she will do.
I can only hope for her sake and for his that this doesn't go on too
much longer.
6:15 a.m.
Well, at least his sister got a good night's sleep. Don't now how long
Blondie will sleep, but again, nothing I can do about that. The
hospice nurse is due by at about 10, so that will probably be it.
Of course, as if to put a lie to all my maundering about whether he is
"there" or not, Moldy responded to me after my prior entry. Blondie
had put together a bottle of chai just before hitting the sack. When
she said "I'm going to make some chai before I go to bed, I thought
she meant for herself, and I complained and told her to just go to
bed, picturing twenty minutes spent boiling highly caffeinated tea. Of
course, she meant for her husband. And of course it was just
pre-prepared bottled stuff. Teach me to keep my mouth shut!
Anyway when she gave it to me she said "He really likes it." And when
I pressed the bottle to his lips he certainly started sucking it down.
His sister was awake then, too, and was watching me administer the
meal. At one point I said "Pretty good stuff, eh?" and to both our
astonishment he paused mid drink and replied with a clear "Mmm-hmm."
So there is someone in there. He CAN hear. And he enjoys chai.
I'll keep my morbid speculations to myself from now on. I hope.
[1]Last
Posted by Albatross at July 17, 2003 12:00 AM