annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My darling God knows where we are now. ED is no better. She's had a few more episodes of twitching, which was the precursor to the big seizures on Saturday but hasn't been since. She has pain coming and going, if the groaning is anything to go by, which most but not all of us think it is. So she can have morphine, up to every two hours, though she's not often needed that much. The hospice has been contacted and said they'd send someone out to assess her, 'hopefully today,' but it wasn't today. I hope tomorrow, and I hope my message that I want to be there gets through to the person who's coming and I hope they take it seriously and contact me when they're on their way so I can get there. I don't believe she's dying. I mean, I know she is, but not yet. I think. I keep changing my mind on this and I don't really think anyone from the hospice is going to be able to settle it for me one way or the other because we learned last time that it's an inexact science. Back then she was dying, back in May 2017, she met all the criteria, until she wasn't any more and didn't, so I'm not going to get anything I can base anything on from hospice-person. One of my big concerns is about appetite. There's a set of changes that occur as a person approaches death, one of being loss of appetite, which gradually further weakens the already weak system and they drift away. So how does that go if a person is fed by feeding tube, fed a nutritionally perfect diet? When they aren't able to say they aren't hungry? Last time she had septicemia and a blocked kidney and they did stop feeding her because she wasn't expected to last more than a couple of days... God I can't believe i'm writing this down and posting it out onto the fucking internet but I am. I've not known how to live this week. I wake up and phone the care home at once. Sometimes how they speak makes me rush down there - not because they've said she's worse but because I think they don't love her enough, but when I get there she's asleep so I sit for a bit, or wander about being a nuisance, then decide I have to keep living my life, so I go off and do things. Today, as well as going down there three times I've been to a yoga class; picked up tickets to see Hannah Gadsby; met my writing mentor to discuss this fucking free read of my work I'm still in line for; went for a drink in a wine bar (I know! Me!) with the ex-manager of the care home, got a bit pissed on one (big) glass of the Brit version of tinto de verano (red wine with lemonade) because I am now such a fucking lightweight; gone to the private view of the art exhibition at the 'other' recovery centre and made four quid from my postcards. I've also got into spats on the local facebook page about people's refusal to view alcohol as an addictive, mind-altering drug and about referring to people who do petty crimes as 'scum'. Yesterday I went to the last sewing group, finished my trousers and made a bag from scratch in 25 minutes. A bit demented. Now I'm going to go and make some cheese and crackers and watch an episode of Better Things on iplayer. I recommend this if you haven't seen it. I didn't like the first episode much but the woman who recommended it to me is reliable so I persevered and now I love it. Though none of the characters have female names - Sam, Max, Duke, Frankie - what's that about? I am grateful for: a bit more time; morphine; Son coming down tomorrow; a comfy bed; a sleeping puppy Night night xxx
12:43 a.m. - 29.08.19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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