Today I spent most of the day entering data for the Quicken program. This Di used to do, until she became so ill that she could no longer do it. By that time I was so busy that I couldn't do it either, so we fell behind. I am now caught up. Some of the data entered referred back to our last trip to the Mayo Clinic in November, 2010. What a desperate time that was! And what a desperate trip back that was!
Di was in such terrible pain with her huge mouth ulcers, in turn the result of her low white cell count. We stopped overnight in Des Moines for bladder and diabetic care. Di was in such pain that she couldn't sleep, and, despite the "bladder botox", had to get up frequently to urinate. I wasn't sure I could drive all the way back, with so little sleep, but knew, if I didn't, there was no other way of getting back. She would have to be hospitalized in Des Moines and, perhaps, die without her family around her. So, I just saddled up, and drove straight back, taking her directly to St. Luke's South Hospital. Neither of us was sure she would make it, but Di sat stoically. till we got there. There in the ER, she began to receive strong pain relieving medicine, with IV fluids, and began to revive over a few days. Thus began her last three months on this earth.
She must have felt so awful most of this time, but she did not complain - just tried so very hard to do what was asked of her. She got paler and paler, as her hemoglobin level fell so rapidly and continuously necessitating recurrent transfusions, every 2-3 weeks. And there was nothing else I could do to save her. I felt utterly without power, and absolutely helpless in the face of this cruel disease.
We had her presence for three months more, and, during that time Gillian was able to come over, to see her, and spend some very pleasant time with her, doing mother-daughter things. Thank God for that time, though I fretted over its rapid passage.
Often I wish my faith were stronger; how, instead of beginning my prayers with "God if you're out there......", I could say "See God, there is this mustard seed!"
I seem not to have been able to see what everyone else was seeing, that the treatment was not working, and the end was rapidly approaching.
Bob H., a kind and good friend from EFM days come over tonight, to be with me and talk. Loneliness is awful at present, until I can reassemble myself, and develop a bigger circle of friends. Like the psychologist, Bob emphasized the necessity of tears to deal with grief, in that it opens the depth of the emotions and gives permission for other people to experience it also. Bob, you are a kind and gentle friend.
Good night all, and love. Tomorrow is a busy day including a trip to Lawrence. May God bless all who are reading this blog, and may His peace and love descend upon you. Geoff.
It's so easy to second guess the feelings and decisions one makes in a time of stress. In these last two posts, you've talked about how you couldn't see that things weren't working, or kept pushing for the next medical miracle.
ReplyDeleteAny mistakes you made were mistakes made of love and hope, the hope that a recovery could be found and that the end was not inevitable. Don't fault yourself for erring on the side of love and hope.