Dec 25: 12:15 pm, yesterday's difficulties
I'm typing this at the house in Ossining, having some quiet time before joining the rest of the family at the hospital.
Yesterday was rough. John left the house just after 6 am to do some shopping, he beat me to the hospital by about 10-15 mins, texted me and said "M doesn't look good...." The breaths were about 3-4 a minute, although she had recognized John and then me, so she was arousable. But over the next hour and a half she stopped responding to our voices. I called Fernando at the house and told him to come over with the kids sooner rather than later.
The silver lining here is that after all the energy expended on Tuesday everyone was much more matter-of-fact. There was no crying, no sobbing, just quiet sorrow. It was, again, torture watching her; the breaths slow and ragged, long pauses that made you think it was the last one and then another breath.
Family started arriving. She had stopped responding to anything other than deep pain stimulus, which the nurse would clear the room for, except for John and me. But then her father arrived, and she responded to him. He sat by her, holding her hand, talking to her. She didn't react to John or the kids at that point. But he's her Daddy, and he pre-dates everyone else in her life. Before the kids, or John, or even her brothers, there was her Daddy.
The day dragged on like this, they told us that death would still be hours or days away as long as she could be stimulated. Martha's brother always has a big Christmas Eve party, so everyone started leaving for that. John and the kids went, a much needed break and chance to interact with other concerned people. I had already said I'd stay--large crowds of people I don't know isn't my favorite thing, so a good excuse. Fernando stayed for a while, and we noticed that her facial expressions and grunts were in response to us talking. So we started to direct more comments to her, and it continued. She was clearly hearing, understanding and expressing herself to the best of her ability.
The nurses offered us one of the hospice suites, which was gratefully accepted, even though she isn't technically hospice. It's a double room, so her room and then what can be used as a lounge with a full-sized pull-out bed and the use of that room's shower. We had stockings, and a little tree (both provided by a close friend, Beth P, who I've become convinced can accomplish ANYTHING--the woman is a wonder!). So I stayed and did a running monologue for hours, and again she would respond to what I was saying. Fernando came to relieve me about 11 pm, and I told her it was almost Christmas. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and apparent pleasure.
F called this morning, she's sitting up and drank half a glass of water. Unbelievable. John is calling her the energizer bunny, because she keeps going and going and going.....
Is it the new chemo? All the prayers? Christmas miracle? Martha's dogged determination and refusal to quit? Probably a combination, but we'll never know.
So Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, Happy Kwanzaa.
And Peace on Earth.
Thanks for checking, Laurie
Yesterday was rough. John left the house just after 6 am to do some shopping, he beat me to the hospital by about 10-15 mins, texted me and said "M doesn't look good...." The breaths were about 3-4 a minute, although she had recognized John and then me, so she was arousable. But over the next hour and a half she stopped responding to our voices. I called Fernando at the house and told him to come over with the kids sooner rather than later.
The silver lining here is that after all the energy expended on Tuesday everyone was much more matter-of-fact. There was no crying, no sobbing, just quiet sorrow. It was, again, torture watching her; the breaths slow and ragged, long pauses that made you think it was the last one and then another breath.
Family started arriving. She had stopped responding to anything other than deep pain stimulus, which the nurse would clear the room for, except for John and me. But then her father arrived, and she responded to him. He sat by her, holding her hand, talking to her. She didn't react to John or the kids at that point. But he's her Daddy, and he pre-dates everyone else in her life. Before the kids, or John, or even her brothers, there was her Daddy.
The day dragged on like this, they told us that death would still be hours or days away as long as she could be stimulated. Martha's brother always has a big Christmas Eve party, so everyone started leaving for that. John and the kids went, a much needed break and chance to interact with other concerned people. I had already said I'd stay--large crowds of people I don't know isn't my favorite thing, so a good excuse. Fernando stayed for a while, and we noticed that her facial expressions and grunts were in response to us talking. So we started to direct more comments to her, and it continued. She was clearly hearing, understanding and expressing herself to the best of her ability.
The nurses offered us one of the hospice suites, which was gratefully accepted, even though she isn't technically hospice. It's a double room, so her room and then what can be used as a lounge with a full-sized pull-out bed and the use of that room's shower. We had stockings, and a little tree (both provided by a close friend, Beth P, who I've become convinced can accomplish ANYTHING--the woman is a wonder!). So I stayed and did a running monologue for hours, and again she would respond to what I was saying. Fernando came to relieve me about 11 pm, and I told her it was almost Christmas. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and apparent pleasure.
F called this morning, she's sitting up and drank half a glass of water. Unbelievable. John is calling her the energizer bunny, because she keeps going and going and going.....
Is it the new chemo? All the prayers? Christmas miracle? Martha's dogged determination and refusal to quit? Probably a combination, but we'll never know.
So Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, Happy Kwanzaa.
And Peace on Earth.
Thanks for checking, Laurie
posted by Laurie @ 12:23 PM
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