2000
| September 20, 2000 I filtered the little bomb that came in an e-mail - and it did not show up this morning - I choose to delete from server so it's dead. What a pain! But now I know how to do filters... Sort of. If only junk mail could be attacked that way. Hmmmm. I did housework yesterday, cut out a dress and a skirt. A little sewing is good therapy. I also hunt movies - or run a tape. Distraction is key. Pride and Prejudice - the 99th time I run that tape. Love Regency and period or costume dramas. I am running laundry and will go fix fillet mignon (steak) and take it to my younger son for tonight. Protein and carbs and a little pain killer and get up and walk. The pain in his feet is so severe. We are trying rehabilitation so he can get home (and to Houston). He was out of it yesterday - rolled back and forth and moaned and did not eat. Been like that all day. No food, no activity, no nothing. They had yanked the port out of his chest (without me present in the hospital) yesterday morning. They called me at 8AM - my bedroom phone did not ring although for some strange reason I was up. I got the message at 10AM - after the fact. See if I presign the consent form again! Ha! Well, Momma's here. Straight from the gym. Still in sweat-soaked clothes. Fresh from leg lifting 265 lbs. 45 minutes on the treadmill. Lifting 75lbs down to 20 - lift to fatigue. 54 lbs on the ab machine - can do 60. 100 and 110 support on the dipper (abs, arms and chest). 40lbs plus machine weight on the incline press. You get the picture. Sneakers and all. Every curve and fat roll on display. (Too old to give a shit.) I dragged his butt (literally) out of bed - good thing I was in gym clothes and had just lifted 265lbs leg lifts and 60 lbs arm and back lifts (sometimes 75). I was a "pushy bitch" and should "stop coming in". I said I would not stop - the nurses wanted me there. The doctors wanted help motivating him. I offered to get a coffin catalog. He thought that was nasty. He told me my breath stunk I brushed my teeth He decided I was depressing him I told him he was scaring me. He cursed. I got loud and cursed back. He said I was fat. I said I was losing weight (I have biceps and there are actually abs under the cushion I carry on my stomach). I pointed this out. He rolled his eyes. He got up. I am a bracing stand or I am lifting under one arm while he pushes off. He cries out (the feet) and staggers and I walk fast - trying not to skid on the towels we try to have down under his feet. The nurse is somewhere behind me. I drop him on the toilet seat and scurry out of the room - give him some dignity. I return to pour water down his backside - he complains it hurts. I get him up and into the shower - he reaches up to hold the bar to steady himself. I encourage any motion and effort he can make. I have him stand while I wash him down - the butt in particular - there are blisters. I make a note. He sits on the shower chair and I wash him down - he helps - there are limits after all. He is in there about 20 minutes - I kind of don't say I'm done - wait for him to declare he wants out. The more time he sits up the better. He figured out he could sit and pivot to get his feet out of the tub. I dry him right there and get him into a clean gown. It's the laundry I do to keep from losing the big ones with the snaps that cover his body and come down the thighs. We stagger back to the bed and he fairly collapses on it. We slowly get him settled. His butt has breakdown again (blisters from not moving) and the nurse is alerted (special medication). He ate soup after his shower. Then I fetch hot blankets. Then some tea. We use a towel as a bib. I had a big basket of strawberries - he ate a lot (1/2 the basket) - I finished. Then he decided nothing else from the dinner or lunch tray. Then he had soda - me too. Then he had hot sauce (I am to get the cheese stuff next) and chips (1/3 bag). Then 1 Cup of ice Cream - Haggen Daas of course - chocolate-chocolate fudge - very sweet - I had 1/4 cup. Then he had a hunk of sweet Italian bread - so did I. Went with the frozen thing I had for dinner. And some soda - I had coffee. Now we work on protein and carbs - that should help the veins and muscles. I massaged his legs in the shower while washing him. I massaged his legs and feet after I got him back in bed. He has two arm Ivs since the port is now out. He watches the Olympics - when they rotate to a channel he can get in the hospital TV. When his eyes were rolling out of his head I demanded something be done - a little Vicodan was decided on. Makes him a little groggy - but it takes the top edge off the foot pain - a side effect of the chemo - another side effect. How many more? Up to level 5-6- he can manage - up to 8-10 he cannot and should not. Wears him out. Beat it back. My baby is distressed. But after shower and food - he sat up to eat the chips, he did his e-mail and dictated where I should put the new magazines. I also was told to stay (past 11PM no less). I am forgiven my pushy broad behavior. I took a bath in his oversized tub - mine at home is a sub-sized tub. This one I can stretch out in almost full length. It's nice. I relax a little. I put on clean clothes - I had been in the gym clothes too long. He was resting so I dozed on and off - I have learned to drop off easily and wake up in a sudden spurt - they have a plastic bench by the window and I have a pad on it. He wakes me up when he needs a urinal (two at a time actually). Or wants ice. Or he may be dozing when an alarm goes off. Or he "tosses his cookies" - in this case the remains of the steak and chips. The boy must learn to chew better! Easier on him when coming back up! I fetch soda and wet clothes and whatever else he wants. So I am on duty until the fungus medication finishes. The Demerol must be timed. And they blew it tonight - he gets the shakes. They mistimed it. Caught it fast enough that it got stopped fast. (They did it the next night too but caught it before the shakes. People! We have this routine down I thought!) Then I can finally drive home. Around midnight. I am tired and sometimes disoriented in spite of REAL coffee consumed just before leaving - so I can be really wired for the freeway. Even so - I have hit the poles in the garage twice and once nearly slammed the side of the car into one (stopped in the nick of time). Nearly took off the left side mirror on one shot. Tonight I missed the freeway off-ramp turn and drove into the marshlands in Fremont last night - went right and not left because I got off on 84-Thorton instead of Mowry. I was lost with the ducks in the marshland when I connected wth the thought that I was perhaps not where I should be. Good thing I recognized a street name (from driving a friend of John's home a few times) and got myself turned around - at 1 in the morning! Not good. A sign that I am really tired. I know this because I find myself standing in front of the ice machine in the hospital kitchen and trying to open it like my kitchen cabinet to get sweet and Low for my coffee - that's really out of it! At home, I walk from room to room and forget where I am and what I was doing or what I was looking for. This is not age. This is exhaustion. Bone weary exhaustion. When this happens - I lay down somewhere and close my eyes. Cat nap on the bench. Or hurry home, bring in the dog, feed the cats and fall into bed. Shower be damned. Mother nature is telling me something. I try to listen. Last night she told me to have a slice of cheesecake and a 1/2 glass of wine before going to bed. Nice advice. |
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