So I left the house around 10am on Thursday. Just checked up on our heroine between looking at jobs. She said she felt a little off but to me, she sounded and looked pretty good. The hospice nurses/social workers had been there for the majority of the week and everything seemed to be fine. We’re supposed to have good days ahead right? That was the plan. Meds has been decreased to a more suitable level, we were going to get the drain tube so they could relieve the pressure of the always brewing gut stew at home. Things were starting to come together. The nurse was coming by later to drop off some DNR paperwork for us to have onhand if/when the worst happens. But we aren’t going to need that for a while. So off I went to st augustine to look at a job. Well…….
Elizabeth calls and puts me on speaker with Barbara the nurse. She was super nauseous, weak, hurting, all that. Ok. We were going to the inpatient hospice wing at the hospital to get this under control. Elizabeth met this decision with no resistance. We stayed the night and her assites/gut stew was draining from the hole where Dwayne the drain was inserted pretty good. When it has no place to go, it’ll just find somewhere and show itself the door. So the nurses here (whom I cannot say enough good things about) the next day began to see if they could move up getting the drain tube put in from Tuesday to Monday. That got done (more on that later). We spoke with the doctor between the parade of family and friends coming by for support. It’s hard for me to even type this, things ain’t good kids. There were some hard truths that we knew but out loud they were crushing. She doesn’t want to be in pain anymore and who can blame her. She doesn’t want myself or ham and cheese to see her this way, struggling. But we pressed on. I crawled into bed and took a nap with her. She’s lost enough weight where I could slide my giant tuckus right beside her in this small bed. I left and came back and between then she had decided that Monday was no good, that with our history of things and procedures at Mayo that she wanted to be certain exactly what was happening. So I agreed. While she needs it later it’s ultimately her call. So after all the family and friends left ham and cheese came in and we all stayed the night in the room. Today has been quiet. The girls went home to clean up and Hannah is going to work then to her boyfriend Carsons house. He’s been here with her the majority of the time and even though it’s only been a short time I love that dude. No matter where the road goes for him and Hannah he’ll always have a special place in my heart for being there for her (and his family as well). Haley is going to stay at a friends house so I’ll have the air mattress to myself.
So now the tough part. She’s not really eating. It was all we could do to get her in and out of the shower today. She has no strength. I know that she “wants all the info” before getting the tube but that may be her way of saying fuck it. So we sit here. Not feeling good about anything. Ham and cheese just came back by and we had some laughs. I’ve told friends that came by that were upset leaving, we’ll be alright. And we will. I had a pretty good partner for twenty years to raise two awesome human beings. Am I scared? Yeah. But I know I’ve got them to lean on as they do me. I just deleted a sentence as I wanted to be positive and put a good spin to end this, but truthfully it sounded ridiculous sitting at the end of the hallway on the fifth floor of hospice. So I’ll just leave this here and hope we can get out and go home together for one last run. Love all you waveriders, prayer warriors and savages. It’s been a good uphill battle with you guys behind us. Peace and love. Later