WebKittyn Warbles
Saturday, December 08, 2007
I Hate Roller Coasters
Literally and figuratively.
What a mindfuck the past week has been and it's finally taken its toll on me. Woke up yesterday at 8:30 with the worst headache of my life and spent the next 6.5 hours sick in the bathroom. Still have the headache, nothing is helping it.
Tuesday was my last post. That was the night they said prepare for the worst. Watched my mother cry all night and almost lost it myself when she said "I'm 66 years old and I have no life without him." Spent way too much time listening to her try and plan what she would do without him, it was the single worst night of my life to date.
Wednesday they tell us he's getting over the flu and they lower the machine to 80% oxygen. His oxygen level was holding at 91 with 80% from the respirator, it was the first improvement since he went in. I allowed myself a tiny bit of cautious optimism, very cautious.
Thursday was the best day since he went in. Throughout the course of the day they had the respirator down to 70% then 60% and by the night it was down to 50% with his level still holding between 89-92. My mother was giddy. It was the first time I heard her tell a co-worker "he's going to make it." Finally we had some good news. She actually smiled.
Yesterday morning the admitting doctor called looking for her and I talked to him. My dad was still at 50% and they had lowered the sedation level and freed his hands from the restraints they use to keep people from trying to pull out the tube. He said they were going to try and remove the tube and see how things went, if it didn't go well they would do the trach. He explained the difference between the trach my dad would get and the sort where you talk through the machine. Life was good.
Then it all crashed and burned and the roller coaster took a major dive.
She called me around 2 in hysterics. Seems my ever-stubborn father had worked the tube with his tongue until it was at a point where he could yank it out (ouch). The nurse came back into the room and he was sitting up, sans tube. He was lucid, the nurse said it was 'the most lucid' she had seen him since he was admitted. He was groggy but he was able to whisper answers to her questions and for about 5 minutes he was doing well.
Until he stopped being able to breathe. He started coughing and choking and couldn't breathe at all. They put him back down with full sedation and re-inserted the tube. His oxygen level was only in the mid 80s even with the respirator at 100% and once again we were given instructions to 'prepare for the worst.'
It was almost too much for me to see my mother's face, I could really see all the hope and joy of the past two days pour out of her and it was too much. She spent the night in tears, hugging the stuffed pigs my dad got her first when my grandfather died and then my grandmother.
It hit me like a house on my head then, the calm finally cracked. To have such hopes only 24 hours earlier and then to be shot down right back to square one. I did the night call in to see how he was and the respirator was down to 80%, his level holding at 91. There are two really awesome nurses on the overnight shift and the one I talked to was not full of gloom and doom.
He held at 80%/91 overnight, still a huge setback but better than 100%.
Today was another diagnosis and it's cruel. He had Type 2 flu, apparently the flu shot doesn't cover Type 2 flu. Add to that a touch of pneumonia and they think he had a mini-stroke the morning he was admitted.
His diaphragm is in bad shape. One side was already paralysed, causing him to go on oxygen two years ago. Now it seems to be 3/4 or more frozen, preventing him from breathing. They said there isn't anything they can do to reverse the damage of a frozen diaphragm. His lungs are alright, his heart is holding, his mind is there. He was squeezing her hand hard today and nodding yes and no to her questions. He's there but this fucking diaphragm won't let him breathe.
Tonight they're going to try and lower the respirator to 75% and see how that holds. In a few days they're going to do the trach and see if that helps, apparently it's a more aggressive form of assisted breathing and he'll be able to talk a bit since the tube will be out of his mouth.
Past that, no one can say and that's the cruel part. They can't say if he'll ever be able to breathe on his own again. They're not giving up on him but they're not oozing optimism.
Imagine. You're confined to a hospital bed, restrained and with a tube down your throat and in your gut. Your mind still works though, enough to understand you may be this way the rest of your life, crippled by a diaphragm. It's cruel, it's unfair, it's so fucking sad.
He doesn't want to see me, he doesn't want me seeing him like that. I told a friend that and instead of compassion I got "you're
So that's where we are. Basically nowhere. Nothing definite, nothing to cling to but hope and I've seen how hopes get shattered over the past few days.
I'm sorry I haven't answered emails or IMs this week, it's just been too much to handle. I'm learning how weak I really am in certain areas (like family) and I thought I was dealing with this but I'm not. I'm feeling very alone in all this and it sucks.
Tonight will be the first time in 30 years I don't watch Heat Miser and Snow Miser. That's telling.
I want to say thank you to the commenters, the emailers, the IMers. Even if I don't reply, they help.
All I can do is ride this horrid roller coaster and continue to hope.
I hate roller coasters.
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Hang in there kittyn, lots of prayers and juju coming your way
on 12/08 at 05:40 PM -
"I told a friend that and instead of compassion I got “you’re not 4."”
I can’t speak for anyone else, but that doesn’t sound like a *friend* to me. He/She is being an brainless twat and should be a little more sensitive to your feelings (and have more sense)!
Still keeping you and your family in my thoughts. Hang in there, kittyn.
Nicki on 12/08 at 07:31 PM -
I am so very sorry that you are going through this. Hang in there. Big hugs and positive thoughts are coming your way from this neck of the woods.
Last Girl On Earth on 12/09 at 12:16 AM -
My friend,
I am with you always. There is nothing in this world that can ever fill the void that you’re experiencing right now, but know that I am with you. My prayers and thoughts are supporting you although you may not feel me. I whisper in your heart. I comfort your tears. I am here with you.
You are my friend and always have been. Do not despair. Hope is eternal.
on 12/09 at 04:23 PM -
im just going to keep sending prayers and thoughts your way.
oh and lots of (((HUGS)))
Andrea on 12/10 at 07:35 AM
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