Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Tears from the Heart
I'm afraid I won't have much time to write here much in the coming weeks. I am still trying to cover what shifts I can at the hospital.
Status for my mom....The reason she only made it 10 or so hours in rehab is because the mysterious infection was identified. She has sepsis. It was so bad, I found out yesterday, that she nearly did not make it out of the ER. Supreme efforts from the ER staff kept her alive.
It took a family friend, one without my mother's other health problems nearly two years to recover from Sepsis. And now my mom has it? On top of diabetes, congestive heart failure, chron's disease, rheumatoid arthritis, peripheral artery disease and now sepsis?
I mean, oh my gosh. How much can one endure?
I am meeting with the Palliative team today to help decide my mother's fate. I hate hate hate having to have these conversation with my dad. In my heart, I feel like it's time to end her suffering and let her go. She's not getting better. She just stares at the ceiling now, or says over and over "I"m scared." Sometimes she obsesses over things, like why is there a string (censor) or her finger and she often says, "Tell me why I am here again?"
She is refusing some treatments including a bipap mask to help her breath (it's not just for sleep apnea patients. It actually works like a ventilator and not only forces air down, but brings the air out again). Without the bipap to help her, her carbon monoxide levels are rising, every day they talk of intubating.
Her foot is dying more and more each day. It's an image I will never forget as long as I live and all I can think is, what limb is next? She has PAD and diabetes, it's only a matter of time. She keeps forgetting that her toes have died, she doesn't know yet that she will lose her foot. Thankfully, she doesn't remember. My dad thinks she would rather die than lost her foot.
But my dad cannot let go yet, he wants to keep fighting, for her to keep fighting. Can I blame him really? I can't imagine losing Rob. My mom and Dad have been together almost 50 years.
And really, how does one make these decisions? What if I am wrong? What if we sign the papers and we're wrong and she can get better? But we don't give her that chance?
It's breaking my heart. In my lifetime of 43 years, I've seen my dad cry just a hand full of times...when my sister died, when we almost lost mom before. Now I hear him crying almost daily and it's almost as painful as watching my mom suffer.
Talk about tears from the heart....
Cry from my head again
tears that come from thoughts of leaving
never end
Cry from my head again
tears that come from thoughts of loosing
never end
But when I cry from my heart
tears from my heart
My breast sighs opens like a flower in the bloom
Soft petals, yield to reveal your face
as they bend, from your weight
you reach within for nectar
tears from my heart
tears from my heart
I weep
not from my head
but from deep within my heart
Now when I cry from my heart
tears from my heart
lightening strikes, violet and bright
piercing the dark corners of my room
words dissolve, only your image tender
sweetly stings, burns apart
you reach within for nectar
tears from my heart
tears from my heart
I weep
not from my head
but from deep within my heart
Music by Steve Stewart, Lyrics by Weba Garretson, arranged by Ken Lasaine
Status for my mom....The reason she only made it 10 or so hours in rehab is because the mysterious infection was identified. She has sepsis. It was so bad, I found out yesterday, that she nearly did not make it out of the ER. Supreme efforts from the ER staff kept her alive.
It took a family friend, one without my mother's other health problems nearly two years to recover from Sepsis. And now my mom has it? On top of diabetes, congestive heart failure, chron's disease, rheumatoid arthritis, peripheral artery disease and now sepsis?
I mean, oh my gosh. How much can one endure?
I am meeting with the Palliative team today to help decide my mother's fate. I hate hate hate having to have these conversation with my dad. In my heart, I feel like it's time to end her suffering and let her go. She's not getting better. She just stares at the ceiling now, or says over and over "I"m scared." Sometimes she obsesses over things, like why is there a string (censor) or her finger and she often says, "Tell me why I am here again?"
She is refusing some treatments including a bipap mask to help her breath (it's not just for sleep apnea patients. It actually works like a ventilator and not only forces air down, but brings the air out again). Without the bipap to help her, her carbon monoxide levels are rising, every day they talk of intubating.
Her foot is dying more and more each day. It's an image I will never forget as long as I live and all I can think is, what limb is next? She has PAD and diabetes, it's only a matter of time. She keeps forgetting that her toes have died, she doesn't know yet that she will lose her foot. Thankfully, she doesn't remember. My dad thinks she would rather die than lost her foot.
But my dad cannot let go yet, he wants to keep fighting, for her to keep fighting. Can I blame him really? I can't imagine losing Rob. My mom and Dad have been together almost 50 years.
And really, how does one make these decisions? What if I am wrong? What if we sign the papers and we're wrong and she can get better? But we don't give her that chance?
It's breaking my heart. In my lifetime of 43 years, I've seen my dad cry just a hand full of times...when my sister died, when we almost lost mom before. Now I hear him crying almost daily and it's almost as painful as watching my mom suffer.
Talk about tears from the heart....
Cry from my head again
tears that come from thoughts of leaving
never end
Cry from my head again
tears that come from thoughts of loosing
never end
But when I cry from my heart
tears from my heart
My breast sighs opens like a flower in the bloom
Soft petals, yield to reveal your face
as they bend, from your weight
you reach within for nectar
tears from my heart
tears from my heart
I weep
not from my head
but from deep within my heart
Now when I cry from my heart
tears from my heart
lightening strikes, violet and bright
piercing the dark corners of my room
words dissolve, only your image tender
sweetly stings, burns apart
you reach within for nectar
tears from my heart
tears from my heart
I weep
not from my head
but from deep within my heart
Music by Steve Stewart, Lyrics by Weba Garretson, arranged by Ken Lasaine
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Get busy living or get busy dying
Anyone know that line? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
It's from the Shawshank Redemption which is a favorite movie of mine. Initially, I thought it really had nothing to do with what I was going to write about today. It just popped into my mind when I sat down at the keyboard. I didn't think it meant anything, or did it?
I've been gone again, I know but for good reason. My time is split now, trying to help my dad (grocery shop, take down a Christmas tree, clean, cook etc) but also going to the hospital to visit my mom, a two hour round trip for me.
I hate those visits. Mostly, because I hate seeing my mom that way. She doesn't know it yet, but she is going to lose her foot which will confine her to a wheel chair at best. She keeps forgetting that her toes have already died, but that she is not strong enough to survive the amputation surgery. But that's not even why she was admitted. She's there because her hemoglobin became dangerously low because she was bleeding into her intestines. This is a side effect of the blood thinners meant to help her save her limbs. Yup, that's working great.
She goes in and out of lucidity. Sometimes, she just forgets where she is. Her blood sugar, even when on a clear liquids no sugar diet was still hovering at 400. She gets breathing treatments several times a day - her lungs are filled with fluid from all the transfusions. Her heart (remember, she has a pacemaker/defibrillator already) is feeling the stress and went into v-tach for 51 beats one night. Her already bad vision worsened going very dark either from the bleeding or the morphine or who knows, and her hearing is described as a 3 on scale of 10. She can no longer use the bathroom by herself, nor feed herself and was actually in adult diaper for a few days (seriously? they are too busy for bedpans? really?)
Those are all horrible things, but what I hate most, and what sticks with me the most is the look of defeat in her eyes. One night, she just looked at me and said "don't do this to yourself."
You could have knocked me over with a truck.
What did she mean? Does she realize she could have taken better care of herself? Was she warning me away from the same fate? AFter all, I am at risk of type 2 diabetes which can often be avoided with good diet and exercise. ( Btw, she has type 1, she could not have done anything to void it) Did she sense I was mad at her all those years for not taking care of herself, for taking herself away from her grandchildren?
I don't know, and I never will. I really didn't know what to say. I just reassured her, told her I was taking care of myself. She knows I exercise, watch what I eat, see Dr.'s regularly for check ups and to monitor my A1C level. Mine is currently at a very healthy level of 4.5.
I wanted to tell her that I think of this all the time, every morning when I pack lunches instead of allowing my kids to buy "cheese substitute" pizza at school, every time I grocery shop and plan our evening meals, every afternoon when my kids ask for a snack. And most importantly, every time the phone rings, and my heat skips a beat as I hold my breath waiting.....Is this the call that will tell me she has finally lost her battle? Something that I am irrationally angry about too.
But I didn't. I didn't say any of those things. She deserves peace. So I just sat there like I usually do, holding her hand. You see, she is less afraid when me or my dad holds her hand.
So much is out of our control. You can't do anything about getting in a car accident, or getting cancer or getting on a plane that might crash. Those things are simply a horrible part of life you sometimes just can't avoid. But you *CAN* control how you live. So you can't run a marathon? Big deal, go for a walk. You don't have a gym membership? Take your kids to the park and play tag or chase them on the monkey bars. Can't afford Yoga class? Play a good game of Twister with your family. (This is hilarious, btw, when you cheat and make your husband do the hardest moves available....er, um...so I've heard)
And of course, such a simple choice - always always always check the labels of what you eat. If it has high fructose corn syrup on the label, put it back on the shelf. You can do so much better for you and your family. It's up to you, you can take control at least of this aspect of your life.
Get busy living, or get busy dying.
It's from the Shawshank Redemption which is a favorite movie of mine. Initially, I thought it really had nothing to do with what I was going to write about today. It just popped into my mind when I sat down at the keyboard. I didn't think it meant anything, or did it?
I've been gone again, I know but for good reason. My time is split now, trying to help my dad (grocery shop, take down a Christmas tree, clean, cook etc) but also going to the hospital to visit my mom, a two hour round trip for me.
I hate those visits. Mostly, because I hate seeing my mom that way. She doesn't know it yet, but she is going to lose her foot which will confine her to a wheel chair at best. She keeps forgetting that her toes have already died, but that she is not strong enough to survive the amputation surgery. But that's not even why she was admitted. She's there because her hemoglobin became dangerously low because she was bleeding into her intestines. This is a side effect of the blood thinners meant to help her save her limbs. Yup, that's working great.
She goes in and out of lucidity. Sometimes, she just forgets where she is. Her blood sugar, even when on a clear liquids no sugar diet was still hovering at 400. She gets breathing treatments several times a day - her lungs are filled with fluid from all the transfusions. Her heart (remember, she has a pacemaker/defibrillator already) is feeling the stress and went into v-tach for 51 beats one night. Her already bad vision worsened going very dark either from the bleeding or the morphine or who knows, and her hearing is described as a 3 on scale of 10. She can no longer use the bathroom by herself, nor feed herself and was actually in adult diaper for a few days (seriously? they are too busy for bedpans? really?)
Those are all horrible things, but what I hate most, and what sticks with me the most is the look of defeat in her eyes. One night, she just looked at me and said "don't do this to yourself."
You could have knocked me over with a truck.
What did she mean? Does she realize she could have taken better care of herself? Was she warning me away from the same fate? AFter all, I am at risk of type 2 diabetes which can often be avoided with good diet and exercise. ( Btw, she has type 1, she could not have done anything to void it) Did she sense I was mad at her all those years for not taking care of herself, for taking herself away from her grandchildren?
I don't know, and I never will. I really didn't know what to say. I just reassured her, told her I was taking care of myself. She knows I exercise, watch what I eat, see Dr.'s regularly for check ups and to monitor my A1C level. Mine is currently at a very healthy level of 4.5.
I wanted to tell her that I think of this all the time, every morning when I pack lunches instead of allowing my kids to buy "cheese substitute" pizza at school, every time I grocery shop and plan our evening meals, every afternoon when my kids ask for a snack. And most importantly, every time the phone rings, and my heat skips a beat as I hold my breath waiting.....Is this the call that will tell me she has finally lost her battle? Something that I am irrationally angry about too.
But I didn't. I didn't say any of those things. She deserves peace. So I just sat there like I usually do, holding her hand. You see, she is less afraid when me or my dad holds her hand.
So much is out of our control. You can't do anything about getting in a car accident, or getting cancer or getting on a plane that might crash. Those things are simply a horrible part of life you sometimes just can't avoid. But you *CAN* control how you live. So you can't run a marathon? Big deal, go for a walk. You don't have a gym membership? Take your kids to the park and play tag or chase them on the monkey bars. Can't afford Yoga class? Play a good game of Twister with your family. (This is hilarious, btw, when you cheat and make your husband do the hardest moves available....er, um...so I've heard)
And of course, such a simple choice - always always always check the labels of what you eat. If it has high fructose corn syrup on the label, put it back on the shelf. You can do so much better for you and your family. It's up to you, you can take control at least of this aspect of your life.
Get busy living, or get busy dying.
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