From stressed to I don't know what.
I am so exhausted and hopped up on xanax I don't know how this post will come out. You have been warned.
This morning I helped the nurse change Billy Jo and give her a bed bath. This was a 45 minute process in which Billy Jo's face showed signs of discomfort to outright pain. At one point, and it broke my heart, she opened her eyes, looked at me with a non-stoned look, and dejectedly said "just do what you want to me - I don't give a shit anymore." It's pretty much the only thing she's said today, and it has caused a wave of sadness over me that has lasted all day.
Swallowing is becoming damn near impossible. Tonight at 11pm I get to watch the nurse crush the methadone, put it in a empty capsule, and administer it rectally. Tomorrow at 7am I get to see if I can do it, and I better pass that test, because at 8am 24/7 nurse care is over.
Friends and family will be here through the weekend to assist me. We will also get weekend CNA from hospice. I hope it goes well. I watched three professionals deal with her today and the pain she was in was hard to watch. I can't imagine the pain I'm going to be causing her in the coming days.
I was talked into getting a hospital bed brought in. I relented - it would be easier on me, most likely easier on her even though she hates hospital beds, and safer - no more Paranormal Activity moments, thanks to the bars. I figure it's a decision I could make and live with. Moving her to hospice home is not something I am willing to do. I promised her she dies at home.
We thought we were going to get her set up in the family room, so I start moving furniture around. A few minutes later I'm told the fire department will not come and move her downstairs. WTF. I'm not blaming the firefighters, I'm blaming the city. This on top of the fact that 24/7 care is almost over added to the fact that I slept like hell last night equaled breakdown.
Brian came over and we basically cleared out the master bedroom to cram the hospital bed into the bedroom. Not easy with a king sized bed. Had to remove a bunch of furniture, but we got it to work. It'll do. Wrigley has taken her spot on the hospital bed and won't budge. Looks like I get the whole king sized bed to myself tonight.
Before all this shit went down, I had a good 30 minute "conversation" with Billy Jo. I know she hears me, so I went through everything I could think of. Small talk, important talk, anything. I asked that she squeeze my hand but she didn't. I held her hand for the entire talk, and decided to take this picture, which apparently at least 127 of you have seen it already.
During the talk, I told her that I feel like our relationship has already moved onto the spiritual level. I will talk, I hope she will listen, and look over me in the future. I told her that I would not be surprised if she's looking down on me (us) from the ceiling already. That her body has basically become a shell that is simultaneously so weak it can't do anything on it's own yet too strong to stop altogether. I told her I'm sorry this awful disease decided to give her the hard, long, and painful way to die. I told her that she shouldn't apologize as she always did after bad test results or bad doctor appointments.
I'm almost certain the liquid depakote will stop tomorrow. The nurse couldn't even wake her up to take the 1/4 tsp. She is non-responsive. Vitals, of course, are just fine. She's going to outlive me.
Thanks to friends, I've eaten a ham and cheese sandwich, chips, a salad, and half a dozen donuts. In addition to the two granola bars. There - I'm eating more.
Here's your furkids pics of the day. The first is a rare Shadow sighting. Billy Jo can't wear her Ovarian Cancer Awareness bracelet anymore. Shadow found out wherever it was and I caught him playing with it.
Finally, of course, is ever faithful Wrigley staked out on the hospital bed