Friday, June 18, 2010

The Weak End

Yes, I get that this is an inappropriate pun, but I'm hiding behind my humor. Leave me alone and don't judge me!

Work was slow so I left after only being there 45 minutes. It really pissed me off until I saw I'd missed a call from my mom. The gist was that there isn't really anything they can do for Paw (which I kind of already assumed). They're tranferring care to hospice on the 18th. So now we wait.

I sat by him and held his hand for more than an hour. It's hard to watch. I can tell by his face that he's in pain. He's getting morphine every hour. His temperature was 103.7 and his oxygen and blood pressure are low. I see his face and I know he doesn't want to leave us, certainly not my grandmother, but he looks like he's crying with no tears. It rips me apart. And I don't know what to do about it other than blog, so here I am.

It seems we don't really end that differently than we begin. He can't take care of himself. He couldn't really talk tonight, though he did look at me a few times. And I swear I saw a smile and almost a laugh every now and then. I was trying to tell funny stories, and I was talking to him a lot. I know he knows me, and that matters a lot. I knew when he first went to the nursing home that there would come a time when he wouldn't know me, so I started wearing the same body spray scent every time I visited. I figured that later on down the road, he'd at least be able to recognize my smell. I think it worked.

I can't make sense of this. I tweeted about this earlier, saying that I was in no way ready for it, but I think he is. I can't bear to see him in pain. I asked the nurse to talk to the doctor about it, because with his fever so high there's no way he isn't miserable. He can't tell us, but I can see it. She said they'd see how the Tylenol worked with the morphine and then go from there.


By the by, when I'm on my deathbed, I will attack you if you give me Tylenol. I want strong drugs and lots of them. Put on some Buffy or West Wing, shoot me full of dilaudid or fentanyl, and watch as I drift into my happy place.

Anyhow, they said it could be any time over the next few days. And it's so unfair that the rest of the family can take off work and be there while I slave away working both jobs every day until my body is literally on the verge of shutting down. And I just want to hold his hand and tell him not to be afraid. I know, I know. I could probably get my shifts covered, but that doesn't work when you still haven't gotten your insurance paperwork so you're technically uninsured even though it will be retroactive and you're paying full price for scripts and still racking up doctor bills.

And none of this matters because someone I love is going to die very soon and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it but type out all the feelings I'm trying to hide from everyone else. That's it. I'll update again tomorrow.

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