Pain got so bad I had to lie down and put my feet up.
The pathos!!!
The triage Nurse told me to get back onto my oxygen. That meant walking from the kitchen to the bedroom. 40 feet never seemed so long.
We hadn't had a selfie in a while.
Feet up.
We took several.
Michelle's mom's last Paramour crafted the cabinets to my left. He died about 10 years ago. She died 10 years ago.
The triage Nurse told me to get back onto my oxygen. That meant walking from the kitchen to the bedroom. 40 feet never seemed so long.
Update Sunday.25.Jan. - 7 days later
It was a tad past 4:30 a.m. when, after several anti-angina pills and a swig of morphine had had no effect, that I called the office. The on-call Nurse said he was coming to do an assessment.
When he arrived 20 minutes later I was writhing. I've been poked so many times over the years the mere mention makes my arms hurt; I've specified no more needles. So, after consulting with the attending physician, he slapped on all three of my 25-microgram fentanyl patches and 20 minutes later I had an inkling I might actually live and was able to whisper, "We beat it." I came close to pulling the plug, though.
It's taken a week to regain the energy to write it up. I've stayed with the 50-mcg increase in fentanyl. It's meant I'm sleeping more. They gave me 4mg tablets of hydromorphone (dilaudid, another form of morphine) for breakout pain; I've taken it a few times.
Jessica, my poet-nurse, is caring for her 94-year old aunt. She said Theresa came out from her bedroom the other day and announced, "I'M NOT DEAD YET!" They, Jessica, Jessica's daughter and Jessica's granddaughter, didn't know what to think.
I can't speak for Theresa, but my feeling is she wanted some reassurance that they hadn't gotten fed up with caring for her. I felt kinduh guilty about bringing someone out at 5 a.m.
I've always thought it'd be the pain that would motivate me to use the MAID (medical aid in dying), but this brought out some psychological perturbations around being a burden.
I encouraged Jessica to give Theresa a hug & tell her she loves her. Fortunately, it's true.
Nice selfie. One of you is cute.
ReplyDeleteIt's tough. The selfies are keepers.
ReplyDeleteBeing a burden is a big one. Reason why most people try to avoid ever ending up in a situation where you need help with even basic things. Not to speak of toenail trims, feeding, & fetching.
ReplyDeleteSecond issue is pain. Comes either way, with any choice. Pain in hospice ends with the end. Pain in surgery mostly ends when you start a new life & being better off, feeling better. No one I've ever known deals with angina very well.