that's what the nurse told me, when I phoned from work a couple of days ago, to check on Spouse. Those old symptoms, which we have seen before, a few times this year, that we'd discovered were caused by a UTI (urinary tract infection) have returned again. So, I told the doctor & his care management team about the previous episodes and what was done to bring Spouse back to better condition. So, they took a sample of blood & urine for lab work.
It's not another UTI, but it is what it is. Spouse is getting nearer to the end, so please excuse my absence. He tells me he feels the end is near and he is tired, ready and the only thing that keeps him here is his worry for me. I told him to not worry over me, but to go when he is ready & to remember my faith in our Higher Power to meet my needs. Spouse can watch over me, from where it is he goes from here and I shall have comfort in knowing he is looking out for me.
My boss knows that I won't be able to work pretty soon, even on a part-time basis. I've got to work 4 days this week, but I've informed him that in the next week(s), it will be impossible for me to work two days in a row, as he's got me scheduled this week. Spouse told me he is afraid I won't be there, when the time comes & I've promised to be at his side.
Much to do now - get the dogs' care arranged, get through this week of work and figure out where the extra gas money will come from. Oh yeah - they (the nursing home) moved Spouse to a different room. It's at the end of another hall and that blasted buzzer which signals the staff to a resident needing assistance is no longer blaring outside of his room door! The new room is painted a nice color, is very quiet and his window is much larger.
Yesterday, while I was there, we were watching the flock of birds that frequent his feeders that are hung just outside his window. Suddenly, they all flew away and we saw a large bird land on the bush below the feeders. I looked, surprised, and discovered a hawk had lighted on the bush! It was a beautiful hawk and Spouse was thrilled to see it. That was nice, but I cannot help but wonder if the hawk was some sort of omen, a sign of things to come.
Must get ready for work now, so I hope you all know that you remain in my thoughts. If I knew how to insert a shoutbox, I would. Feel free to leave your hellos & such in this post & I'll check them when able. Love y'all!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
How evil am I? Sometimes, I wonder. The past few days have been tiring, to say the very least. My new job is exhausting work, but I love it & the people I get to wait on. My feet and lower back are screaming by the end of my shifts, but I actually have fun, real fun, meeting the people and getting to know my co-workers. Sure, there are aspects of the job that I already dislike, but I think that's because my body is so out of shape and the shelf stocking is so labor intensive. Anyway, it's been a nice reprieve from the isolation I lived in for the past few years. Spouse & I shared such a lovely Thanksgiving day together, if one is able to forget the awful grub served by the nursing home for dinner. Cooking our own turkey and dragging along a can of the cranberry sauce proved to be one of my better ideas this month. I was able to get one of the staff to open the can of whole cranberries sauce and we we celebrated that lovely tradition that began when we first moved from our huge home in Bellingham, WA to the shitty trailer in Plains, MT. When the time to serve our first official "trailer trash Thanksgiving dinner" came, I was perplexed as to whether it was proper to serve the cranberry sauce from yet another dish to wash by hand, or serve it directly from the can. We opted, being newly arrived at our long awaited dream of becoming official trailer trash, to serve the delicious sauce straight from the can. And, since that first TTT, we've continued with the tradition. It's a running holiday joke my beloved and I have shared, one that has never failed to bring a twinkle to our eyes and sly smiles to our faces. The dietary aide at the nursing home was fairly stressed and did not seem to give much of a ripped rat's ass about our tradition, but she still begrudingly opened the tin for me. The cook, however, grinned when I explained the can, even though there were teeny plastic cups with dollops of the nearly clear & berry-less sauce sitting at each table. She acknowledged that it was a nice idea for me to bring some of my own home cooking for this special dinner and to include our cute little tradition of the canned cranberry goodies. We had a nice enough dinner that day, at least with the dessert and the food I'd brought from home. Our visit was nice and the day went too fast. I had to leave, as I do each time I visit, with enough time for me to drive the speed limit and still have some daylight to watch out for deer on the road. It kind of sucks, having to leave a little earlier in the day than before, because I might as well be stone cold blind as far as anything in the peripheal of the headlights when I drive at night. Must be a part of getting older, I suppose. Anyhow, I took the following day off, to give myself a day of rest, since I'd not had one in quite awhile. When I awoke, my plan was to get dressed, slam some java and get back on the road to see Spouse once again. As soon as I tried to sit up in bed, my sciatica told me a different plan. If I planned on working Saturday, as I was scheduled, then I needed to stay home and relax, as best I could. So, I called Spouse and let him know what was going on. He said he understood, sort of, and I stayed in my jammies until late in the day. My legs were finally relenting and allowing me to stand straighter, with less pain and I drove to Watertown, to do a teeny bit of Christmas shopping. Actually, I went there for one thing and found it... the last one on the shelf! It's a little something, which shall remain nameless for now, in case my grandson's mom knows about my blog. I knew that part of the stress that was tightening up my sciatica was due to not having the time to do ANY Christmas shopping, since I am expected to be at Spouse's side when I am not at work. That's mostly a presumption of my own, since few of his family & friends have actually come out and asked why or how I could stand to be anyplace but near him when he's so ill. A couple of his friends have brought up the subject and were rewarded with THE LOOK. Once they've spent a bit of time with him, now that he's more easily agitated and just downright mean, they seem to have a better understanding of how & why I am able to tear myself away from him for a few hours a week. *pfffft* On Friday, when I was at home/shopping, Spouse had someone at the nursing home take him to a doctor, since his regular doc at the home was gone for the holiday weekend. This new doctor upped the pain meds for Spouse, because his liver contractions were increasingly getting worse and more frequent. I'd noticed this when I spent the day with him the preceding Thursday and suggested he mention the increased pain and timing to his doctor. The thing this new doctor didn't take into consideration, when upping the dosage, was the ability of Spouse's liver to assimilate the increased dosage. I visited Spouse again on Sunday and he was difficult the majority of our visit. He seems so angry all the time and takes it out on me and the staff, constantly. I do understand that his pain plays a huge role in how he reacts, as well as his inability to do basic math now. In saying basic math, I mean he has trouble keeping facts straight, days & times confuse him and his memory is really beginning to suffer. He gets one visit confused with another, to the point he told one of the nurses that I hadn't seen him on Sunday because I had the flu. The reason I know about this conversation is because the nurse called me Sunday evening, to report that Spouse had fallen, when he tried to get from his wheelchair into a regular chair about an hour before she called me. He was blabbering incoherently, unable to walk on his own and was clearly over-medicated! The new doc had upped the prescription to 20mg of morphine each hour, as needed. Spouse took that to mean that he was now able to have it every hour, whether needed or not. I know he was thinking it would be better to stay on top of the pain, rather than wait until he could feel it coming on, but what happened was his liver was unable to assimilate such a high dosage, with such frequency after awhile. Bear in mind, Spouse was getting the same dosage, every two hours, prior to the new uppage. That, along with the phentynol (sp?) patch that was increased from 50 to 75, and the 30mg of slow-release morphine that Spouse gets twice a day. *the 20mg is the instant release kind* The nurse told me that she wasn't going to give Spouse any more morphine that night, until he wakes up, which happened around 3 a.m. His last dose was at 8 pm and that was the one that sent him soaring with eagles. With that episode now behind us, Spouse has realized, in some small way, that he was watching the clock to get his pain meds, instead of listening to his body. If/when I try to approach the subject now, he gets really hostile and totally pisses me off. I see someone who has a problem - a major problem - with his morphine and it's a two-edged sword. He cannot function without the morphine, because of the tremendous pain he is in, yet his liver is proving incapable of handling the amount needed to control the pain. It's really difficult for me to decipher whether Spouse is actually in pain because of his liver failing, or if he's in pain because he's addicted to the morphine and he just may be going through withdrawals when certain levels aren't maintained. I don't know. I don't know. I just plain don't freaking know and it sets upon my shoulders like a huge, heavy, stone gargoyle. Today I went to see him again, resenting having to leave our home and brace myself against the frigid temperatures. When I awoke at 8 a.m., it was a frosty 2*F here in Clark, and only a few temps warmer (4*F) in Redfield. Going outside was certainly NOT something I planned to enjoy, and I didn't. Perhaps I have mentioned previously to my friends here, how much I absolutely loathe cold? Really, really loathe it, especially if it hits the back of my neck, which nearly always throws my back muscles into spasms. I truly appreciate those heated seats in the Jeep even more now! Anyhow... back to my original question when I began this excerpt of my life... am I evil? Today, Spouse was thinking that eventually he would outlive the contract which the VA has with the nursing home and he'd have to go back to the VA hospital, until the contract was renewed. He told me & the social services director of the facility that he refuses to return to the VA hospital, but instead he would rather come home to die. He would merely ask his sister (who cannot afford it, nor would she want to leave her own husband alone for that long) to come stay with us to help me out. I told him I would have to quit my job, if he insists on coming home. He seems to think that wouldn't be necessary, if his sister was there to help out. The thing is, she's not in much better health than me, as far as strength of the physical nature is concerned. There's also the fact that our home is ill-equipped to deal with his needs, especially when he gets to the end, the very end, stages of his disease. So, I called his sister tonight and we talked about his rantings (he was yelling and ranting, when he divulged his plan to go home) and whether we felt we'd be able to fulfill his wishes. Here is where the gut & heart honesty come into play, folks, and it isn't pretty. I don't want him to come home to die. My love for him has not faltered a whit, but the thought of him coming home to die scares the shit out of me. I haven't forgotten how difficult life was when he was at home the last time and he got so sick. Does he expect me to let him lay in a bed and die, if he could live longer in a facility that provides round the clock care for him? I guess he does. He has already pretty much outlived the VA docs' prognosis and is going into his third month of Hospice care. Those doctors thought he'd be lucky to live two months, let alone four. He has begun to make a slow, progressive turn toward the downward spiral and the waiting makes him so angry. I get that. I really do. The problem is, he's not the only one who has been waiting (not happily expecting, please bear in mind) and dealing with the slow, lingering crawl of the Grim Reaper to his bedside. This man, who bears the name of my beloved, whom I have visited as often as possible, is not the man I married. The man I married was intense, passionate about many things, but was not a mean spirited person. My husband was thoughtful and generous, often putting the needs of others before himself. He cared about other people. This man that I visit curses at other residents, often saying awful, hateful things about them. This stranger who telephones me is my beloved, my darling and my tormentor, all tied into one human. It's obvious to me, he thinks if he comes home, he might die sooner, than later. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some not so ingenious plan hidden in the deepest corners of his befuddled mind, something devious which might even speed up the process. He knows that if he were at home, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to fall again, where he would only hurt himself further. Or perhaps he might "accidentally" take too much of his medicine, when left alone in his room for a potty break... who knows? All I am sure of, whether this fact makes me the evil bitch some might see me as, is I would rather continue dealing with the stress of driving so far to visit him, on my days off, than have him come home to die. I feel quite certain his life has been extended, thus far, because he's getting the round the clock care that I cannot give him at home. He wants to come home to die. I think he's being a selfish bastard for asking this of me. As much as I love him truly, I hope death comes more quickly for him, so that his misery might be ended. For those of you who might be offended by my honesty, I shall not apologize. Feel free to wear my shoes, when you exit & take your bowel movements with you. To those of you with far more understanding, thank you, bless you & I miss you more than words can express. I'm so tired, kids... and it's not even December, yet!
My Guts on a Platter
How evil am I? Sometimes, I wonder. The past few days have been tiring, to say the very least. My new job is exhausting work, but I love it & the people I get to wait on. My feet and lower back are screaming by the end of my shifts, but I actually have fun, real fun, meeting the people and getting to know my co-workers. Sure, there are aspects of the job that I already dislike, but I think that's because my body is so out of shape and the shelf stocking is so labor intensive. Anyway, it's been a nice reprieve from the isolation I lived in for the past few years.
Spouse & I shared such a lovely Thanksgiving day together, if one is able to forget the awful grub served by the nursing home for dinner. Cooking our own turkey and dragging along a can of the cranberry sauce proved to be one of my better ideas this month. I was able to get one of the staff to open the can of whole cranberries sauce and we we celebrated that lovely tradition that began when we first moved from our huge home in Bellingham, WA to the shitty trailer in Plains, MT.
When the time to serve our first official "trailer trash Thanksgiving dinner" came, I was perplexed as to whether it was proper to serve the cranberry sauce from yet another dish to wash by hand, or serve it directly from the can. We opted, being newly arrived at our long awaited dream of becoming official trailer trash, to serve the delicious sauce straight from the can. And, since that first TTT, we've continued with the tradition. It's a running holiday joke my beloved and I have shared, one that has never failed to bring a twinkle to our eyes and sly smiles to our faces.
The dietary aide at the nursing home was fairly stressed and did not seem to give much of a ripped rat's ass about our tradition, but she still begrudingly opened the tin for me. The cook, however, grinned when I explained the can, even though there were teeny plastic cups with dollops of the nearly clear & berry-less sauce sitting at each table. She acknowledged that it was a nice idea for me to bring some of my own home cooking for this special dinner and to include our cute little tradition of the canned cranberry goodies.
We had a nice enough dinner that day, at least with the dessert and the food I'd brought from home. Our visit was nice and the day went too fast. I had to leave, as I do each time I visit, with enough time for me to drive the speed limit and still have some daylight to watch out for deer on the road. It kind of sucks, having to leave a little earlier in the day than before, because I might as well be stone cold blind as far as anything in the peripheal of the headlights when I drive at night. Must be a part of getting older, I suppose.
Anyhow, I took the following day off, to give myself a day of rest, since I'd not had one in quite awhile. When I awoke, my plan was to get dressed, slam some java and get back on the road to see Spouse once again. As soon as I tried to sit up in bed, my sciatica told me a different plan. If I planned on working Saturday, as I was scheduled, then I needed to stay home and relax, as best I could. So, I called Spouse and let him know what was going on. He said he understood, sort of, and I stayed in my jammies until late in the day. My legs were finally relenting and allowing me to stand straighter, with less pain and I drove to Watertown, to do a teeny bit of Christmas shopping. Actually, I went there for one thing and found it... the last one on the shelf! It's a little something, which shall remain nameless for now, in case my grandson's mom knows about my blog. I knew that part of the stress that was tightening up my sciatica was due to not having the time to do ANY Christmas shopping, since I am expected to be at Spouse's side when I am not at work. That's mostly a presumption of my own, since few of his family & friends have actually come out and asked why or how I could stand to be anyplace but near him when he's so ill. A couple of his friends have brought up the subject and were rewarded with THE LOOK. Once they've spent a bit of time with him, now that he's more easily agitated and just downright mean, they seem to have a better understanding of how & why I am able to tear myself away from him for a few hours a week. *pfffft*
On Friday, when I was at home/shopping, Spouse had someone at the nursing home take him to a doctor, since his regular doc at the home was gone for the holiday weekend. This new doctor upped the pain meds for Spouse, because his liver contractions were increasingly getting worse and more frequent. I'd noticed this when I spent the day with him the preceding Thursday and suggested he mention the increased pain and timing to his doctor. The thing this new doctor didn't take into consideration, when upping the dosage, was the ability of Spouse's liver to assimilate the increased dosage. I visited Spouse again on Sunday and he was difficult the majority of our visit. He seems so angry all the time and takes it out on me and the staff, constantly. I do understand that his pain plays a huge role in how he reacts, as well as his inability to do basic math now. In saying basic math, I mean he has trouble keeping facts straight, days & times confuse him and his memory is really beginning to suffer. He gets one visit confused with another, to the point he told one of the nurses that I hadn't seen him on Sunday because I had the flu.
The reason I know about this conversation is because the nurse called me Sunday evening, to report that Spouse had fallen, when he tried to get from his wheelchair into a regular chair about an hour before she called me. He was blabbering incoherently, unable to walk on his own and was clearly over-medicated! The new doc had upped the prescription to 20mg of morphine each hour, as needed. Spouse took that to mean that he was now able to have it every hour, whether needed or not. I know he was thinking it would be better to stay on top of the pain, rather than wait until he could feel it coming on, but what happened was his liver was unable to assimilate such a high dosage, with such frequency after awhile. Bear in mind, Spouse was getting the same dosage, every two hours, prior to the new uppage. That, along with the phentynol (sp?) patch that was increased from 50 to 75, and the 30mg of slow-release morphine that Spouse gets twice a day. *the 20mg is the instant release kind* The nurse told me that she wasn't going to give Spouse any more morphine that night, until he wakes up, which happened around 3 a.m. His last dose was at 8 pm and that was the one that sent him soaring with eagles.
With that episode now behind us, Spouse has realized, in some small way, that he was watching the clock to get his pain meds, instead of listening to his body. If/when I try to approach the subject now, he gets really hostile and totally pisses me off. I see someone who has a problem - a major problem - with his morphine and it's a two-edged sword. He cannot function without the morphine, because of the tremendous pain he is in, yet his liver is proving incapable of handling the amount needed to control the pain. It's really difficult for me to decipher whether Spouse is actually in pain because of his liver failing, or if he's in pain because he's addicted to the morphine and he just may be going through withdrawals when certain levels aren't maintained. I don't know. I don't know. I just plain don't freaking know and it sets upon my shoulders like a huge, heavy, stone gargoyle.
Today I went to see him again, resenting having to leave our home and brace myself against the frigid temperatures. When I awoke at 8 a.m., it was a frosty 2*F here in Clark, and only a few temps warmer (4*F) in Redfield. Going outside was certainly NOT something I planned to enjoy, and I didn't. Perhaps I have mentioned previously to my friends here, how much I absolutely loathe cold? Really, really loathe it, especially if it hits the back of my neck, which nearly always throws my back muscles into spasms. I truly appreciate those heated seats in the Jeep even more now!
Anyhow... back to my original question when I began this excerpt of my life... am I evil? Today, Spouse was thinking that eventually he would outlive the contract which the VA has with the nursing home and he'd have to go back to the VA hospital, until the contract was renewed. He told me & the social services director of the facility that he refuses to return to the VA hospital, but instead he would rather come home to die. He would merely ask his sister (who cannot afford it, nor would she want to leave her own husband alone for that long) to come stay with us to help me out. I told him I would have to quit my job, if he insists on coming home. He seems to think that wouldn't be necessary, if his sister was there to help out. The thing is, she's not in much better health than me, as far as strength of the physical nature is concerned. There's also the fact that our home is ill-equipped to deal with his needs, especially when he gets to the end, the very end, stages of his disease.
So, I called his sister tonight and we talked about his rantings (he was yelling and ranting, when he divulged his plan to go home) and whether we felt we'd be able to fulfill his wishes. Here is where the gut & heart honesty come into play, folks, and it isn't pretty. I don't want him to come home to die. My love for him has not faltered a whit, but the thought of him coming home to die scares the shit out of me. I haven't forgotten how difficult life was when he was at home the last time and he got so sick. Does he expect me to let him lay in a bed and die, if he could live longer in a facility that provides round the clock care for him? I guess he does. He has already pretty much outlived the VA docs' prognosis and is going into his third month of Hospice care. Those doctors thought he'd be lucky to live two months, let alone four. He has begun to make a slow, progressive turn toward the downward spiral and the waiting makes him so angry. I get that. I really do. The problem is, he's not the only one who has been waiting (not happily expecting, please bear in mind) and dealing with the slow, lingering crawl of the Grim Reaper to his bedside. This man, who bears the name of my beloved, whom I have visited as often as possible, is not the man I married. The man I married was intense, passionate about many things, but was not a mean spirited person. My husband was thoughtful and generous, often putting the needs of others before himself. He cared about other people. This man that I visit curses at other residents, often saying awful, hateful things about them. This stranger who telephones me is my beloved, my darling and my tormentor, all tied into one human.
It's obvious to me, he thinks if he comes home, he might die sooner, than later. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some not so ingenious plan hidden in the deepest corners of his befuddled mind, something devious which might even speed up the process. He knows that if he were at home, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to fall again, where he would only hurt himself further. Or perhaps he might "accidentally" take too much of his medicine, when left alone in his room for a potty break... who knows? All I am sure of, whether this fact makes me the evil bitch some might see me as, is I would rather continue dealing with the stress of driving so far to visit him, on my days off, than have him come home to die. I feel quite certain his life has been extended, thus far, because he's getting the round the clock care that I cannot give him at home. He wants to come home to die. I think he's being a selfish bastard for asking this of me. As much as I love him truly, I hope death comes more quickly for him, so that his misery might be ended.
For those of you who might be offended by my honesty, I shall not apologize. Feel free to wear my shoes, when you exit & take your bowel movements with you. To those of you with far more understanding, thank you, bless you & I miss you more than words can express. I'm so tired, kids... and it's not even December, yet!
Spouse & I shared such a lovely Thanksgiving day together, if one is able to forget the awful grub served by the nursing home for dinner. Cooking our own turkey and dragging along a can of the cranberry sauce proved to be one of my better ideas this month. I was able to get one of the staff to open the can of whole cranberries sauce and we we celebrated that lovely tradition that began when we first moved from our huge home in Bellingham, WA to the shitty trailer in Plains, MT.
When the time to serve our first official "trailer trash Thanksgiving dinner" came, I was perplexed as to whether it was proper to serve the cranberry sauce from yet another dish to wash by hand, or serve it directly from the can. We opted, being newly arrived at our long awaited dream of becoming official trailer trash, to serve the delicious sauce straight from the can. And, since that first TTT, we've continued with the tradition. It's a running holiday joke my beloved and I have shared, one that has never failed to bring a twinkle to our eyes and sly smiles to our faces.
The dietary aide at the nursing home was fairly stressed and did not seem to give much of a ripped rat's ass about our tradition, but she still begrudingly opened the tin for me. The cook, however, grinned when I explained the can, even though there were teeny plastic cups with dollops of the nearly clear & berry-less sauce sitting at each table. She acknowledged that it was a nice idea for me to bring some of my own home cooking for this special dinner and to include our cute little tradition of the canned cranberry goodies.
We had a nice enough dinner that day, at least with the dessert and the food I'd brought from home. Our visit was nice and the day went too fast. I had to leave, as I do each time I visit, with enough time for me to drive the speed limit and still have some daylight to watch out for deer on the road. It kind of sucks, having to leave a little earlier in the day than before, because I might as well be stone cold blind as far as anything in the peripheal of the headlights when I drive at night. Must be a part of getting older, I suppose.
Anyhow, I took the following day off, to give myself a day of rest, since I'd not had one in quite awhile. When I awoke, my plan was to get dressed, slam some java and get back on the road to see Spouse once again. As soon as I tried to sit up in bed, my sciatica told me a different plan. If I planned on working Saturday, as I was scheduled, then I needed to stay home and relax, as best I could. So, I called Spouse and let him know what was going on. He said he understood, sort of, and I stayed in my jammies until late in the day. My legs were finally relenting and allowing me to stand straighter, with less pain and I drove to Watertown, to do a teeny bit of Christmas shopping. Actually, I went there for one thing and found it... the last one on the shelf! It's a little something, which shall remain nameless for now, in case my grandson's mom knows about my blog. I knew that part of the stress that was tightening up my sciatica was due to not having the time to do ANY Christmas shopping, since I am expected to be at Spouse's side when I am not at work. That's mostly a presumption of my own, since few of his family & friends have actually come out and asked why or how I could stand to be anyplace but near him when he's so ill. A couple of his friends have brought up the subject and were rewarded with THE LOOK. Once they've spent a bit of time with him, now that he's more easily agitated and just downright mean, they seem to have a better understanding of how & why I am able to tear myself away from him for a few hours a week. *pfffft*
On Friday, when I was at home/shopping, Spouse had someone at the nursing home take him to a doctor, since his regular doc at the home was gone for the holiday weekend. This new doctor upped the pain meds for Spouse, because his liver contractions were increasingly getting worse and more frequent. I'd noticed this when I spent the day with him the preceding Thursday and suggested he mention the increased pain and timing to his doctor. The thing this new doctor didn't take into consideration, when upping the dosage, was the ability of Spouse's liver to assimilate the increased dosage. I visited Spouse again on Sunday and he was difficult the majority of our visit. He seems so angry all the time and takes it out on me and the staff, constantly. I do understand that his pain plays a huge role in how he reacts, as well as his inability to do basic math now. In saying basic math, I mean he has trouble keeping facts straight, days & times confuse him and his memory is really beginning to suffer. He gets one visit confused with another, to the point he told one of the nurses that I hadn't seen him on Sunday because I had the flu.
The reason I know about this conversation is because the nurse called me Sunday evening, to report that Spouse had fallen, when he tried to get from his wheelchair into a regular chair about an hour before she called me. He was blabbering incoherently, unable to walk on his own and was clearly over-medicated! The new doc had upped the prescription to 20mg of morphine each hour, as needed. Spouse took that to mean that he was now able to have it every hour, whether needed or not. I know he was thinking it would be better to stay on top of the pain, rather than wait until he could feel it coming on, but what happened was his liver was unable to assimilate such a high dosage, with such frequency after awhile. Bear in mind, Spouse was getting the same dosage, every two hours, prior to the new uppage. That, along with the phentynol (sp?) patch that was increased from 50 to 75, and the 30mg of slow-release morphine that Spouse gets twice a day. *the 20mg is the instant release kind* The nurse told me that she wasn't going to give Spouse any more morphine that night, until he wakes up, which happened around 3 a.m. His last dose was at 8 pm and that was the one that sent him soaring with eagles.
With that episode now behind us, Spouse has realized, in some small way, that he was watching the clock to get his pain meds, instead of listening to his body. If/when I try to approach the subject now, he gets really hostile and totally pisses me off. I see someone who has a problem - a major problem - with his morphine and it's a two-edged sword. He cannot function without the morphine, because of the tremendous pain he is in, yet his liver is proving incapable of handling the amount needed to control the pain. It's really difficult for me to decipher whether Spouse is actually in pain because of his liver failing, or if he's in pain because he's addicted to the morphine and he just may be going through withdrawals when certain levels aren't maintained. I don't know. I don't know. I just plain don't freaking know and it sets upon my shoulders like a huge, heavy, stone gargoyle.
Today I went to see him again, resenting having to leave our home and brace myself against the frigid temperatures. When I awoke at 8 a.m., it was a frosty 2*F here in Clark, and only a few temps warmer (4*F) in Redfield. Going outside was certainly NOT something I planned to enjoy, and I didn't. Perhaps I have mentioned previously to my friends here, how much I absolutely loathe cold? Really, really loathe it, especially if it hits the back of my neck, which nearly always throws my back muscles into spasms. I truly appreciate those heated seats in the Jeep even more now!
Anyhow... back to my original question when I began this excerpt of my life... am I evil? Today, Spouse was thinking that eventually he would outlive the contract which the VA has with the nursing home and he'd have to go back to the VA hospital, until the contract was renewed. He told me & the social services director of the facility that he refuses to return to the VA hospital, but instead he would rather come home to die. He would merely ask his sister (who cannot afford it, nor would she want to leave her own husband alone for that long) to come stay with us to help me out. I told him I would have to quit my job, if he insists on coming home. He seems to think that wouldn't be necessary, if his sister was there to help out. The thing is, she's not in much better health than me, as far as strength of the physical nature is concerned. There's also the fact that our home is ill-equipped to deal with his needs, especially when he gets to the end, the very end, stages of his disease.
So, I called his sister tonight and we talked about his rantings (he was yelling and ranting, when he divulged his plan to go home) and whether we felt we'd be able to fulfill his wishes. Here is where the gut & heart honesty come into play, folks, and it isn't pretty. I don't want him to come home to die. My love for him has not faltered a whit, but the thought of him coming home to die scares the shit out of me. I haven't forgotten how difficult life was when he was at home the last time and he got so sick. Does he expect me to let him lay in a bed and die, if he could live longer in a facility that provides round the clock care for him? I guess he does. He has already pretty much outlived the VA docs' prognosis and is going into his third month of Hospice care. Those doctors thought he'd be lucky to live two months, let alone four. He has begun to make a slow, progressive turn toward the downward spiral and the waiting makes him so angry. I get that. I really do. The problem is, he's not the only one who has been waiting (not happily expecting, please bear in mind) and dealing with the slow, lingering crawl of the Grim Reaper to his bedside. This man, who bears the name of my beloved, whom I have visited as often as possible, is not the man I married. The man I married was intense, passionate about many things, but was not a mean spirited person. My husband was thoughtful and generous, often putting the needs of others before himself. He cared about other people. This man that I visit curses at other residents, often saying awful, hateful things about them. This stranger who telephones me is my beloved, my darling and my tormentor, all tied into one human.
It's obvious to me, he thinks if he comes home, he might die sooner, than later. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some not so ingenious plan hidden in the deepest corners of his befuddled mind, something devious which might even speed up the process. He knows that if he were at home, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to fall again, where he would only hurt himself further. Or perhaps he might "accidentally" take too much of his medicine, when left alone in his room for a potty break... who knows? All I am sure of, whether this fact makes me the evil bitch some might see me as, is I would rather continue dealing with the stress of driving so far to visit him, on my days off, than have him come home to die. I feel quite certain his life has been extended, thus far, because he's getting the round the clock care that I cannot give him at home. He wants to come home to die. I think he's being a selfish bastard for asking this of me. As much as I love him truly, I hope death comes more quickly for him, so that his misery might be ended.
For those of you who might be offended by my honesty, I shall not apologize. Feel free to wear my shoes, when you exit & take your bowel movements with you. To those of you with far more understanding, thank you, bless you & I miss you more than words can express. I'm so tired, kids... and it's not even December, yet!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
D'Jever Have Days?
Yesterday morning, I woke up around 9 am, thinking I didn't have to be at work until noon. The phone rang at a quarter past 9, with one of my coworkers on the line. She asked me if I was okay & I responded with a puzzled yes. Then she asked me if I knew what time I was supposed to work... and laughed when I answered with a noon reply. Uhm... nope! Was supposed to be there at 9 a.m! Dang it! The entire day, at work, I was just sort of "out of it" and don't know why. My register kept futzing up on me, even when I did things right! The scanner constantly kept scanning produce incorrectly, even when I entered the correct produce code # into the register. At first I thought I was actually the one screwing up, each & every time, until another gal came in, a co-worker on her day off. She told me the machines had been acting loopy the night before, when she was working, so that helped me feel a tad better about it all.
Then today, on my way to go see Spouse, I was just coming over the top of a hill and saw a highway patrol trooper heading eastbound, in the opposite lane. I immediately took my foot off the gas and let the Jeep go into slow coast mode, but since I was now headed in a downhill direction, it made little difference. I watched him turn around, in my rear view mirror, then eventually pull up behind me with his pretty lights blinking blue & red. I stopped, turned off the vehicle and rolled down my window. After he checked my license, registration & insurance papers, he told me to go sit in his car with him.
He clocked me doing 77 in a 65 mph zone & I really couldn't argue, since I was sure he must have caught me doing the 80 mph that I saw on my speedometer at the top of the hill. That Jeep just sails, compared to the old Toylet and I have often caught myself going way faster than I mean to be going, since I got it. Going to have to watch that, from now on. I was so upset, though, about getting caught, about being such an idiot and even more so, knowing that my prayers weren't going to do any good with this guy. Try as hard as I might to hold my tears back, I began crying in his car. I was doing fine, until he asked where I was going in such a hurry. When I told him I was on my way to visit my husband, who was in the Redfield nursing home in Hospice Care (wouldn't you play every card you had, to get out of a ticket?), he then said that he'd hurry for me, so I could get on my way. Nice guy. He then had the gall to inquire why my husband was in a Redfield nursing home, since we live in Clark. I mentioned the VA put him there & there being no contract with the Clark facility, so we were at the VA's mercy. Nice trooper (with a tad too much cologne, btw) then asked me to offer his thanks to my veteran husband, for his service to our country. Yeah, right.
Now I have to either go to court & hope the judge will have some mercy on me, or else mail in the check for $109 for the ticket. That's just $12 less than what I got on my first paycheck! *sigh* Spouse wants me to fight it, plead my case before the judge. I know I was speeding & feel paying the ticket is the best way to go. Did I learn anything from this? Yep - I really need to slow down on the road, pay better attention. I realize that a mere ticket is probably a helluva lot cheaper than a hospital bill might be if I'd wrecked or something. I've got a few days before I have to either pay the ticket or show up in court to plead mercy. Should I pass the hat?
In the meanwhile, Spouse has had some friends from Washington visiting him today. Another friend of his is supposed to show up tomorrow. Maybe I'm weird, but since I don't really know these folks, I haven't invited them to stay here at the house. I am just not comfortable with the idea of them having to leave my home unlocked while they go do whatever. There's that and the fact that my dogs, Chikki & Muffin would bark non-stop at them, the entire time they were here, whether I was at home or at work. Plus, the house is a mess, since it's basically just a crash pad for me, between work and the Redfield roadtrips. I don't want the extra work of playing hostess at home, so I haven't opened my doors to his friends. Am I a cad for not sharing my home with these strangers that think so highly of my husband?
It would be different, if these folks had stayed in touch over the past ten years, while Spouse & I were married, but I only met them once at my wedding! That, to me, does not constitute a friendship, as far as I'm concerned. His other pals that have come to visit, some of them, at least, have always been welcome in our home, because I know them. They have stayed in contact, come for visits, telephoned with some frequency. I know they are used to the dogs and they would use extra caution when exiting, to keep my dogs from getting loose. I think the bottome line here is that I just don't want to have to straighten up the house for anyone, until I absolutely have to. I just don't have the energy or the time.
Speaking of time, I better get to bed, so I will be somewhat rested for work tomorrow. I don't have to be there until noon... I think.
Then today, on my way to go see Spouse, I was just coming over the top of a hill and saw a highway patrol trooper heading eastbound, in the opposite lane. I immediately took my foot off the gas and let the Jeep go into slow coast mode, but since I was now headed in a downhill direction, it made little difference. I watched him turn around, in my rear view mirror, then eventually pull up behind me with his pretty lights blinking blue & red. I stopped, turned off the vehicle and rolled down my window. After he checked my license, registration & insurance papers, he told me to go sit in his car with him.
He clocked me doing 77 in a 65 mph zone & I really couldn't argue, since I was sure he must have caught me doing the 80 mph that I saw on my speedometer at the top of the hill. That Jeep just sails, compared to the old Toylet and I have often caught myself going way faster than I mean to be going, since I got it. Going to have to watch that, from now on. I was so upset, though, about getting caught, about being such an idiot and even more so, knowing that my prayers weren't going to do any good with this guy. Try as hard as I might to hold my tears back, I began crying in his car. I was doing fine, until he asked where I was going in such a hurry. When I told him I was on my way to visit my husband, who was in the Redfield nursing home in Hospice Care (wouldn't you play every card you had, to get out of a ticket?), he then said that he'd hurry for me, so I could get on my way. Nice guy. He then had the gall to inquire why my husband was in a Redfield nursing home, since we live in Clark. I mentioned the VA put him there & there being no contract with the Clark facility, so we were at the VA's mercy. Nice trooper (with a tad too much cologne, btw) then asked me to offer his thanks to my veteran husband, for his service to our country. Yeah, right.
Now I have to either go to court & hope the judge will have some mercy on me, or else mail in the check for $109 for the ticket. That's just $12 less than what I got on my first paycheck! *sigh* Spouse wants me to fight it, plead my case before the judge. I know I was speeding & feel paying the ticket is the best way to go. Did I learn anything from this? Yep - I really need to slow down on the road, pay better attention. I realize that a mere ticket is probably a helluva lot cheaper than a hospital bill might be if I'd wrecked or something. I've got a few days before I have to either pay the ticket or show up in court to plead mercy. Should I pass the hat?
In the meanwhile, Spouse has had some friends from Washington visiting him today. Another friend of his is supposed to show up tomorrow. Maybe I'm weird, but since I don't really know these folks, I haven't invited them to stay here at the house. I am just not comfortable with the idea of them having to leave my home unlocked while they go do whatever. There's that and the fact that my dogs, Chikki & Muffin would bark non-stop at them, the entire time they were here, whether I was at home or at work. Plus, the house is a mess, since it's basically just a crash pad for me, between work and the Redfield roadtrips. I don't want the extra work of playing hostess at home, so I haven't opened my doors to his friends. Am I a cad for not sharing my home with these strangers that think so highly of my husband?
It would be different, if these folks had stayed in touch over the past ten years, while Spouse & I were married, but I only met them once at my wedding! That, to me, does not constitute a friendship, as far as I'm concerned. His other pals that have come to visit, some of them, at least, have always been welcome in our home, because I know them. They have stayed in contact, come for visits, telephoned with some frequency. I know they are used to the dogs and they would use extra caution when exiting, to keep my dogs from getting loose. I think the bottome line here is that I just don't want to have to straighten up the house for anyone, until I absolutely have to. I just don't have the energy or the time.
Speaking of time, I better get to bed, so I will be somewhat rested for work tomorrow. I don't have to be there until noon... I think.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
an update
The new job is great! I come home from work very tired, very sore and feeling quite
productive. The first week, I only worked 3 days, which is fine by me. That gives me plenty of time to visit Spouse and get things done around the homestead. There has been a lot to learn, like certain codes to enter into the register for the produce, selling the lotto tickets and the like. Most of the customers are surprised to learn I've lived here for over 3 years, too. I'm learning which customers are favorites and the few who are chronically difficult to wait upon. My co-workers are a nice lot, mostly women my age, with the exception of a few school kids who work part-time evenings and weekends. I had no idea there was so much heavy work that goes on behind the scenes, too. On stock days, when the shipments come in, we must haul tons of foodstuffs from the back rooms of the store to the front, where we must quickly rotate the old stock to the front, clean the shelf and then put the newer supply in back, then restock the older goods. Rotate, kids! Rotate!
Since there's already a gal named Kim at the store, the bookkeeper has taken to calling me by a shorter derivative of my first name. THAT makes life interesting, as I am getting used to not responding when Kim is paged to come help check or do a courtesy *bagging and carry-out*. It's kind of funny, at least to me, how for years I've loved the name that I am now being known as at work. Always wished folks would call me by that, and now my wish is a fact. Cool, for me. :D
Spouse is holding his own, but has begun the slow, painful spiral downward again. He's now having good mornings and bad evenings. If I tell him something at night, I must tell him again the next morning or he won't remember it at all. He is having more and more pain, so much that they have doubled his phentanol patch and giving him morphine to help it cover the pain level he has. He's getting more & more agitated with some of the other residents at the nursing home, too. Not good, since he gets quite vocal about his irritations. It seems he has a level of paranoia, too, thinking the staff at the nursing home is "out to do him in". I've made friends with a few of the more cognizant residents who tell me that the staff is very attentive to my husband and he just seems to not understand when the staff is trying to be kind and helpful. Hence, I find myself apologizing to the staff at every turn, for his outbursts and rude accusations. They are very understanding, so that helps to alleviate some of my distress.
Got my Jeep back from the mechanics and it runs great now. The heater works *yeah!* and I'm glad to have such a road-worthy rig now. I plan on selling our Suburban, the pick-up truck and some of Spouse's tools. Anyone want to buy a lathe? The money I make from those sells, I'll apply toward my Jeep payments &/or other bills, so that I won't have the big money woes that I'd be facing, otherwise, once Spouse has passed. It sucks that he wasn't able to get some good insurance, but at least I am able to work, so things won't be quite as frightening as they might be if I couldn't. It's probably in bad taste to mention things like this, but it's my life & something that has been on my mind. My blog, too, so there ya go.
Now that I'm working at the grocery store, I've learned about another place that is hiring, constantly *there's a clue for ya*, but they have excellent benefits, plus. If I could get on there, for just two 12 hours shifts a week, I can receive full benefits, so I'm leaning very strongly in that direction. It's a government facility, so the pay would be excellent, in comparison to what I earn at the store, too. Very tempting. The only drawback is, the facility is at least 40+ miles from me, actually in the same town as the nursing home where Spouse currently resides. I wouldn't want to apply there until after he is gone, however, so that I will still have some days to spend with him. It feels as if time is racing faster and faster, especially now that I am working outside the home. Perhaps, it is because winter is fast looming upon us, with the days getting dark earlier and the cold winds rushing across the prairies.
We had our first snow of the season just two days ago, on Monday. Nothing to write home about, but it was still blustery & cold. I'm going to have to find a way to keep my neck warm, but still be dressed within the "uniform" of black slacks & white shirts. Turtleneck sweaters always feel like they are choking me *must've been hung or beheaded in a previous life... ;)* so I've got to come up with another solution. As long as I can keep my neck and back warm, the cold doesn't bother me. Once either gets a chill, though, I usually wind up with a horrid headache.
Anyways - I have to begin getting ready for work now, so that's it, in a large nutshell. I've gotten way behind on my alerts, so will probably have to just do a group delete & hope my friends understand. Once life settles down (it will, won't it?), maybe I can keep up again. I miss reading up on what's going on in everyone's lives and hope you all are doing well. I'll peek in when I can. And someday, I will figure out how to add a shoutbox, too. Someday... for now, I send you all hugs, loves and warm lurgles. Happy Turkey Day, too - if I don't see you before then!!
productive. The first week, I only worked 3 days, which is fine by me. That gives me plenty of time to visit Spouse and get things done around the homestead. There has been a lot to learn, like certain codes to enter into the register for the produce, selling the lotto tickets and the like. Most of the customers are surprised to learn I've lived here for over 3 years, too. I'm learning which customers are favorites and the few who are chronically difficult to wait upon. My co-workers are a nice lot, mostly women my age, with the exception of a few school kids who work part-time evenings and weekends. I had no idea there was so much heavy work that goes on behind the scenes, too. On stock days, when the shipments come in, we must haul tons of foodstuffs from the back rooms of the store to the front, where we must quickly rotate the old stock to the front, clean the shelf and then put the newer supply in back, then restock the older goods. Rotate, kids! Rotate!
Since there's already a gal named Kim at the store, the bookkeeper has taken to calling me by a shorter derivative of my first name. THAT makes life interesting, as I am getting used to not responding when Kim is paged to come help check or do a courtesy *bagging and carry-out*. It's kind of funny, at least to me, how for years I've loved the name that I am now being known as at work. Always wished folks would call me by that, and now my wish is a fact. Cool, for me. :D
Spouse is holding his own, but has begun the slow, painful spiral downward again. He's now having good mornings and bad evenings. If I tell him something at night, I must tell him again the next morning or he won't remember it at all. He is having more and more pain, so much that they have doubled his phentanol patch and giving him morphine to help it cover the pain level he has. He's getting more & more agitated with some of the other residents at the nursing home, too. Not good, since he gets quite vocal about his irritations. It seems he has a level of paranoia, too, thinking the staff at the nursing home is "out to do him in". I've made friends with a few of the more cognizant residents who tell me that the staff is very attentive to my husband and he just seems to not understand when the staff is trying to be kind and helpful. Hence, I find myself apologizing to the staff at every turn, for his outbursts and rude accusations. They are very understanding, so that helps to alleviate some of my distress.
Got my Jeep back from the mechanics and it runs great now. The heater works *yeah!* and I'm glad to have such a road-worthy rig now. I plan on selling our Suburban, the pick-up truck and some of Spouse's tools. Anyone want to buy a lathe? The money I make from those sells, I'll apply toward my Jeep payments &/or other bills, so that I won't have the big money woes that I'd be facing, otherwise, once Spouse has passed. It sucks that he wasn't able to get some good insurance, but at least I am able to work, so things won't be quite as frightening as they might be if I couldn't. It's probably in bad taste to mention things like this, but it's my life & something that has been on my mind. My blog, too, so there ya go.
Now that I'm working at the grocery store, I've learned about another place that is hiring, constantly *there's a clue for ya*, but they have excellent benefits, plus. If I could get on there, for just two 12 hours shifts a week, I can receive full benefits, so I'm leaning very strongly in that direction. It's a government facility, so the pay would be excellent, in comparison to what I earn at the store, too. Very tempting. The only drawback is, the facility is at least 40+ miles from me, actually in the same town as the nursing home where Spouse currently resides. I wouldn't want to apply there until after he is gone, however, so that I will still have some days to spend with him. It feels as if time is racing faster and faster, especially now that I am working outside the home. Perhaps, it is because winter is fast looming upon us, with the days getting dark earlier and the cold winds rushing across the prairies.
We had our first snow of the season just two days ago, on Monday. Nothing to write home about, but it was still blustery & cold. I'm going to have to find a way to keep my neck warm, but still be dressed within the "uniform" of black slacks & white shirts. Turtleneck sweaters always feel like they are choking me *must've been hung or beheaded in a previous life... ;)* so I've got to come up with another solution. As long as I can keep my neck and back warm, the cold doesn't bother me. Once either gets a chill, though, I usually wind up with a horrid headache.
Anyways - I have to begin getting ready for work now, so that's it, in a large nutshell. I've gotten way behind on my alerts, so will probably have to just do a group delete & hope my friends understand. Once life settles down (it will, won't it?), maybe I can keep up again. I miss reading up on what's going on in everyone's lives and hope you all are doing well. I'll peek in when I can. And someday, I will figure out how to add a shoutbox, too. Someday... for now, I send you all hugs, loves and warm lurgles. Happy Turkey Day, too - if I don't see you before then!!
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Blog gone to the Dogs
I was just futzing around YouTube and ran across these vids. Both of them cracked me up, even though they are sooo different. The funny thing is, the second one has characters that make me think about some of my efx2blogs friends! You know who you are!!! ;) Enjoy!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Job Hunting
*note: had to delete & repost, in order to get rid of nearly 400 trackbackcrap things!*
Okay folks - now's a good time for anyone interested to send me all the positive energy and prayers you can muster, in re: my job hunting. A rare opening came up in the grocery store in town & I applied. I'm qualified and they know about my situation with Spouse. It would be a decent job and only 4ish miles from home. This job is one I think I'd enjoy, also, especially after my husband has passed on, because I'd get to know people in the community better.
So - light your candles, cross your fingers and legs and put in a good word for me with your Higher Power. I would really appreciate it... really, really. TIA
Okay folks - now's a good time for anyone interested to send me all the positive energy and prayers you can muster, in re: my job hunting. A rare opening came up in the grocery store in town & I applied. I'm qualified and they know about my situation with Spouse. It would be a decent job and only 4ish miles from home. This job is one I think I'd enjoy, also, especially after my husband has passed on, because I'd get to know people in the community better.
So - light your candles, cross your fingers and legs and put in a good word for me with your Higher Power. I would really appreciate it... really, really. TIA
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