Thank you for the kind words from yesterday's post. Please forgive any spelling and gramatical blunders I may have in this one. My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep.
I stayed with my uncle last night, in his hospital room. My sister and I, so my mom, step-dad and another uncle could get some sleep. We held uncle's hand, rubbed his head and wiped his tears as he went through wave after wave of pain. It is an interesting experience to walk someone through death - not just someone, but someone you love. I noticed, this afternoon, that he had bruised my hand. Poor uncle - his pain was intense. (It reminded me of childbirthing pains - only the complete opposite yet so life transforming).
I got home to sleep this morning at 9, after my step-dad bought my sister and I breakfast. At 11 I was walking out the door to go to music practice and my cell phone ran.
At 10:55 this morning, my uncle got complete escape from his pain. He is at rest now and, though tears have fallen, I am so relieved for him.
I want to thank the nurses for the kindness, the compassion and the love my uncle received in the care of our hospital. I would also like to thank them for those same things for us. We were well taken care of by those wonderful men and women. The small gestures they made for us and towards my uncle that are immeasurable in the demonstrative way that they impacted our hearts - the way they would gently touch his head to say goodbye as they were leaving shift (hoping for his sake that it would be the last time they could say goodbye) or the way they would file into his room in the morning as soon as shift started to give him a gentle touch and kind words - even nurses that weren't assigned to him that day.
We are so appreciative of you, what you do and the heart you do it with! My words are non-descript as to how I truly feel for you all.
Y'all rock!
Once I get some sleep, I will be ok, so don't let your heart be heavy for me. My uncle's pain is over; he doesn't have to fight anymore and for that, I am grateful.
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
What to hope for?
My uncle, the one from here, has been on a downward spiral since writing that post. Last night at 10:30 he took another one. The family has been called and is taking turns sitting with him to comfort him. He is unresponsive but he cries or whimpers when he is in pain. His breathing is very labored and induces more pain for him with each breath. When you walk into his room, you can sense death lingering.
Having worked in the hospital for so long, I would even say you could smell it. The palliative level has a smell; whether it is a mixture of all sorts of things like bed pans and the like, it has a smell and, to me, it smells like death. It smells like sadness.
I counted the number of times my uncle was able to breathe in one minute, and with each came a protest of pain from his shallow body. His breathes ranged from 25 to 40, and I call them gasps because that is the only way to describe them, per minute. With each breath his body was trying desperately to cling to life while he has given himself over to death. With each pause between gasps, we would begin to wonder if death had finally won and he would breathe again, and I am not sure if we were relieved to see and hear it or if it broke our hearts more knowing he has more yet to endure.
His son and daughter know that he is dying yet, they have yet to come to him. It has been years since they have spoken to him, angry at him for whatever it is that occurred behind the closed doors of their house. I had hoped they would come - if for nothing else than to remove some burdens for themselves, dump whatever grudges they have toward their father so it doesn't continue to weigh on them, say whatever they want to say {tell him they're sorry, tell him they hate him, tell him that they don't understand but they are willing to forgive...)
Tonight I am going to be taking my "turn" sitting by his side, waiting to see if another labored, painful breath comes or not. My husband, not in a cruel way, said, "What good will it do to sit there? What does it do other than make the family feel better?" And I had no answer for him but I think I do now. He may be unresponsive but I am sure he can hear us and I think he will find some comfort knowing that he is not alone as he labors, as he cries, that he has family around him that loves him even if his own children don't. If I can offer him some sort of peace, comfort, and security as he takes his last precious breaths let it be done.
As I prepare myself with the things I will want for tonight, should he make it that long, I wonder what do I hope for? Do I hope for that second breath to come? That second breath labored through pain? Or do I hope for his breathing to be silenced, for peace to finally come? And as I type that, I find hot tears filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks. Wanting him to linger is so selfish but wishing for him to linger no more seems so cold and heartless and wrong... Yet through my grief, I feel comforted. My uncle has lived his life, not as long as he could have {he is 67 years old).
Having worked in the hospital for so long, I would even say you could smell it. The palliative level has a smell; whether it is a mixture of all sorts of things like bed pans and the like, it has a smell and, to me, it smells like death. It smells like sadness.
I counted the number of times my uncle was able to breathe in one minute, and with each came a protest of pain from his shallow body. His breathes ranged from 25 to 40, and I call them gasps because that is the only way to describe them, per minute. With each breath his body was trying desperately to cling to life while he has given himself over to death. With each pause between gasps, we would begin to wonder if death had finally won and he would breathe again, and I am not sure if we were relieved to see and hear it or if it broke our hearts more knowing he has more yet to endure.
His son and daughter know that he is dying yet, they have yet to come to him. It has been years since they have spoken to him, angry at him for whatever it is that occurred behind the closed doors of their house. I had hoped they would come - if for nothing else than to remove some burdens for themselves, dump whatever grudges they have toward their father so it doesn't continue to weigh on them, say whatever they want to say {tell him they're sorry, tell him they hate him, tell him that they don't understand but they are willing to forgive...)
Tonight I am going to be taking my "turn" sitting by his side, waiting to see if another labored, painful breath comes or not. My husband, not in a cruel way, said, "What good will it do to sit there? What does it do other than make the family feel better?" And I had no answer for him but I think I do now. He may be unresponsive but I am sure he can hear us and I think he will find some comfort knowing that he is not alone as he labors, as he cries, that he has family around him that loves him even if his own children don't. If I can offer him some sort of peace, comfort, and security as he takes his last precious breaths let it be done.
As I prepare myself with the things I will want for tonight, should he make it that long, I wonder what do I hope for? Do I hope for that second breath to come? That second breath labored through pain? Or do I hope for his breathing to be silenced, for peace to finally come? And as I type that, I find hot tears filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks. Wanting him to linger is so selfish but wishing for him to linger no more seems so cold and heartless and wrong... Yet through my grief, I feel comforted. My uncle has lived his life, not as long as he could have {he is 67 years old).
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
On a cold winter's evening
No, I'm not about to start singing The Gambler by Kenny Rogers (winter edition of course).
No, I am not entirely old enough to know much about that song but I do; my dad loves Kenny Rogers.
Anywho...
As I said in my last post, you know the one where I am extremely relieved I did not have the foresight to take 'before' pictures), Bug is sick - he has a bug if you will.
The poor guy has been barking and hacking like it's the new in thing to love (disclaimer: I haven't seen this nor desire to but three of my children, none that live with me, are completly gaga over this whole thing).
Sorry, I did it again. I will get back on track. Seriously.
Bug is very congested but this cough has been very unproductive. After work I stopped to talk to the store's pharmacist and she told me, with no hesitation to think about it that this (Robitussin) was the best stuff to give Bug.
We were going to use a cool mist vaporizor as well, and add some of that eucylptus oil to it but, the sound the vaporizer makes scares Bug. But look what I found whilst buying the Robitussin...
This little gadget comes with 1 vapourizer and 5 refill pads (each good for 8 hours use). The best thing is, you can buy separate refills once you are done with these 5; you don't need to buy the product all over again! It releases a menthol/eucalyptus blend into the room (make sure you close the door) and is 100% quiet. I plugged it in close to Bug's bed and within a half hour it started to fill his room with soothing smells that will ease his cold this season without scaring the crap out of him.
(disclaimer: This is not an endorsed review at all; in fact Benylin, the makers of the product, don't even know little ole me exists and I bought this for the full $9.49 all by my lonesome).
No, I am not entirely old enough to know much about that song but I do; my dad loves Kenny Rogers.
Anywho...
As I said in my last post, you know the one where I am extremely relieved I did not have the foresight to take 'before' pictures), Bug is sick - he has a bug if you will.
The poor guy has been barking and hacking like it's the new in thing to love (disclaimer: I haven't seen this nor desire to but three of my children, none that live with me, are completly gaga over this whole thing).
Sorry, I did it again. I will get back on track. Seriously.
Bug is very congested but this cough has been very unproductive. After work I stopped to talk to the store's pharmacist and she told me, with no hesitation to think about it that this (Robitussin) was the best stuff to give Bug.
We were going to use a cool mist vaporizor as well, and add some of that eucylptus oil to it but, the sound the vaporizer makes scares Bug. But look what I found whilst buying the Robitussin...
This little gadget comes with 1 vapourizer and 5 refill pads (each good for 8 hours use). The best thing is, you can buy separate refills once you are done with these 5; you don't need to buy the product all over again! It releases a menthol/eucalyptus blend into the room (make sure you close the door) and is 100% quiet. I plugged it in close to Bug's bed and within a half hour it started to fill his room with soothing smells that will ease his cold this season without scaring the crap out of him.(disclaimer: This is not an endorsed review at all; in fact Benylin, the makers of the product, don't even know little ole me exists and I bought this for the full $9.49 all by my lonesome).
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