Email to colleague (A) 1 Dec 2014:
Hi,
I can’t believe it continues. Dad is getting weaker and weaker and is now in pain and on morphine yet somehow is still alive. Mum is too poorly to visit him and yet I think he is holding on to see her. He became delusional yesterday and called me “traitor”, telling me to “GO!” very clearly more than once. I know it’s the body shutting down/morphine that does this but when you’re sitting there alone like I am its devastating. I can’t believe euthanasia isn’t legal. This is so very cruel. He says “I’ve had enough” and “I wish they could give me something to finish me off” so I don’t mind admitting I feel the same way, and that if such a drug was available for humans I’d administer it myself, no hesitation. At the same time, Mum is getting weaker herself. Her throat is causing her pain, she has a horrible lung infection, her arms are black with bruises from all the blood they’ve taken/drugs they’ve given her… There’s a meeting about her today so I’m hoping to talk to her Dr again tomorrow. I’ll have to organise Dad’s funeral once he dies and I’m not sure she’ll be fit to attend. What if she dies while I’m at Dad’s funeral? I’ve never organised one. I can’t imagine anything worse than organising my Dad’s funeral while Mum is in hospital, so ill.
Coming home overnight was a mistake though because going back is harder. It would be so much ether if I wasn’t handing all this alone. The walk along corridors, the lift up to visit Mum. Seeing how ill she looks. The lift back down to Dad, to see if he is quiet, loving, angry or dead.
Email to colleague (B) 1 Dec 2014:
Hello,
The saga continues… Dad is sleeping more now and surviving on fresh air. I’m ready to let him go – not that I want to, but he is hating it and it’s so pointless – but for some reason he is still alive. Mum is still very poorly but I was told today they might treat her with palliative radiotherapy, to shrink the tumour. I’m meeting with another Dr tomorrow to discuss this. I’m scared of the pain this might cause her, and to what end? They’re also making the decision about the feeding tube tomorrow. She asks such simplistic questions it breaks my heart because I don’t really think she understands the implications of any of it. They’re suggesting discharging Dad to a hospice which would be just terrible – I’m already torn and they’re in the same building, without driving across the city from one to another. I just cannot believe how bad this nightmare is and keep thinking I’m going to wake up.
Email to colleague 2 Dec 2014:
Hi, It just gets worse. Dad has unbelievably “stabilised” at death’s door so, because he hasn’t died, they want to discharge him to a nursing home which I think I have got to find. How am I meant to do that? There is not Internet in their flat, nor in either of their rooms at the hospital. How am I meant to look into nursing homes when they’re both so ill? I’m spending all day at the hospital because I want to spend this precious time with them. I don’t want to drive around looking at nursing homes wondering if one of them has died. They will never see each other again if Dad is discharged to a home! How can they discharge him? Apparently, they can because although he can’t do a single thing except lie there, because he is so weak, he has no pain at the moment, is “asymptomatic”, so doesn’t need to be in hospital. I never realised they could do such a thing. It looks to me like he wouldn’t survive the journey. Mum on the hand has got a lot worse. Her right arm is very swollen, her left arm purple with bruises and after a bad breathing incident this morning she can only whisper. They want to try radiotherapy but she isn’t keen – I’m pleased, I think, because I believe it would only give a short reprieve. No one will commit to talking timescales though. She is now deemed palliative too. She might also be discharged, but to somewhere else – i.e. a different institution than Dad. It’s unbelievably cruel and I can’t halt or control any of it. If they are considering discharge to hospice – which I believe they are – that means SHE has a maximum 2 weeks left, otherwise they wont refer to a hospice. They are both dying… Not “just” my Dad… I am coming home overnight. I need a break and can’t do anything now and hiding my pain from them gets harder each day. Also, am avoiding Dad’s consultant who needs to discuss his discharge with me. If I’m not there I’m hoping it will wait. I think Dad’s somehow holding out for Mum. He is surviving on a few sips of water only. Mum looks just as bad today if not even worse. She has her own DNR in place too, and is hoping something like that will happen – she is praying for “God to take me” because she’s had enough. That’s so unlike Mum, it’s awful to see.
I though dying would be slow and quiet, but there are so many people to talk to its not like I thought at all.
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
Lao Tzu