Still Here - Tue. Nov. 5, 2024.
Big day today. My life changed.
Laurel has been experiencing some kind of pain or distress that has caused her to groan over and over and for long periods. Meds usually take care of it but it got worse last night and this morning. It's pitiful to sit beside her, asking where it hurts, does she want an ice pack, what can I do, and she can't respond. She has not been communicating for a couple days. I think whatever was causing this distress was just overwhelming her. I'm thinking pain so great you can't even think straight.
I called hospice for help last night and again this morning. Our nurse came over about noon for her usual visit. Laurel was groaning. I don't want to say 'in anguish', and she wasn't writhing, but something was clearly really bothering her and she couldn't respond to questions. Our nurse called the doctor. Everyone is up to speed on every call I've made so the doctor knew Laurel's recent history and instructed the nurse to administer Phenobarbital. Maybe that will mean something to some of you. It didn't mean more to me than that Laurel was getting a stronger pain medication.
In retrospect, I realize that prior to the mention of that drug, our environment was humming. Things were flowing. Laurel was groaning, we were trying to make calls, we were talking to Laurel to try to comfort her. I had overheard the instruction to administer the Pheno and went to the bedroom to retrieve it. I handed it to the nurse and the room slowed way down. She paused, then slowly said "I want to explain what will happen when we give this." She proceeded to tell me that Laurel would go into a state of sedation and would be unconscious from this point on. I heard the information but it was so abrupt and unexpected it didn't register. I analyzed what I had just heard and said "Wait a minute. Are you saying she's never going to be conscious again until she dies?" "Yes." My whole body involuntarily quaked and I was racked by sudden, violent sobbing. I covered my mouth with my hands and fairly wailed as I practically collapsed. After all the work, all the love, all the worry, she was suddenly going to be taken from me in a few minutes and although we've said our goodbyes, I wouldn't get a chance to talk with her again. I did not see this coming AT ALL and was absolutely devastated.
The nurse gave me the time I needed. I eventually got control of myself and shakily asked her for details, periodically losing control again. So many pent up emotions compounding over the last months suddenly released without restriction or restraint. She explained that we'd administer the drug now, then one more time tonight and three times a day going forward. I could not fully recover from the news. As I replay the moment now, I'm not happy that no one ever said "Your wife may get to the point where we can't control her pain. At that point, we administer Pheno, which will put her into a state of unconsciousness." If I had known that earlier, I would have been mentally prepared for today. The way it was done robbed me of that contemplation and preparation time.
Whew. Just writing about it brings it back so fresh. I'm really okay. It was just a big impact that I wasn't prepared for. The nurse prepared the solution and headed for Laurel. I reached for the syringe and she was somewhat surprised. She assumed I wouldn't want to administer this turning point drug to my wife. I said "I want to do everything." I have been beside her for this entire journey and I'm going with her all the way across the finish line. Holding the syringe, I spoke quietly into Laurel's ear. Words for just her. She wasn't groaning as much at this point and I hope she was comprehending what I was saying. These were bittersweet, tender moments which I already cherish. Without the gospel, these would be devastating moments full of despair and hopelessness. But we have a glorious future ahead of us in the eternities. She's just getting a head start and assured me earlier in this experience that she would be getting everything ready for me.
I told her I would see her soon and squirted the medication into her mouth. I had told the Lord how I would like our final moments to go, if He didn't mind. I sure didn't get that but they were still sweet and we'll look back one day while sitting on our celestial sofa, watching earth home movies and just shaking our heads over this whole 10 month experience. Yes, it's been 10 months to the day since she received her diagnosis.
So, as I said, my life changed today. I'm sitting on the sofa typing, and watching and listening to her breathe peacefully. No pain. No worries. Just peace. Finally. I'm happy for her. Exciting times ahead as she returns home in a coming day, to the place where she started, met by family and friends who are so glad to have her back from her mortal probation. I've got to say, she did a great job here and it has been a pleasure to observe her example of love, charity, humor, kindness and so many other admirable traits.
I hope to sleep more peacefully tonight. My job instantly got about 3000% easier today. It's been a privilege to work with her along this unexpected path. She has walked it with determination and grace and endurance. She is truly remarkable and I'm the luckiest man in the world.
Laurel has been experiencing some kind of pain or distress that has caused her to groan over and over and for long periods. Meds usually take care of it but it got worse last night and this morning. It's pitiful to sit beside her, asking where it hurts, does she want an ice pack, what can I do, and she can't respond. She has not been communicating for a couple days. I think whatever was causing this distress was just overwhelming her. I'm thinking pain so great you can't even think straight.
I called hospice for help last night and again this morning. Our nurse came over about noon for her usual visit. Laurel was groaning. I don't want to say 'in anguish', and she wasn't writhing, but something was clearly really bothering her and she couldn't respond to questions. Our nurse called the doctor. Everyone is up to speed on every call I've made so the doctor knew Laurel's recent history and instructed the nurse to administer Phenobarbital. Maybe that will mean something to some of you. It didn't mean more to me than that Laurel was getting a stronger pain medication.
In retrospect, I realize that prior to the mention of that drug, our environment was humming. Things were flowing. Laurel was groaning, we were trying to make calls, we were talking to Laurel to try to comfort her. I had overheard the instruction to administer the Pheno and went to the bedroom to retrieve it. I handed it to the nurse and the room slowed way down. She paused, then slowly said "I want to explain what will happen when we give this." She proceeded to tell me that Laurel would go into a state of sedation and would be unconscious from this point on. I heard the information but it was so abrupt and unexpected it didn't register. I analyzed what I had just heard and said "Wait a minute. Are you saying she's never going to be conscious again until she dies?" "Yes." My whole body involuntarily quaked and I was racked by sudden, violent sobbing. I covered my mouth with my hands and fairly wailed as I practically collapsed. After all the work, all the love, all the worry, she was suddenly going to be taken from me in a few minutes and although we've said our goodbyes, I wouldn't get a chance to talk with her again. I did not see this coming AT ALL and was absolutely devastated.
The nurse gave me the time I needed. I eventually got control of myself and shakily asked her for details, periodically losing control again. So many pent up emotions compounding over the last months suddenly released without restriction or restraint. She explained that we'd administer the drug now, then one more time tonight and three times a day going forward. I could not fully recover from the news. As I replay the moment now, I'm not happy that no one ever said "Your wife may get to the point where we can't control her pain. At that point, we administer Pheno, which will put her into a state of unconsciousness." If I had known that earlier, I would have been mentally prepared for today. The way it was done robbed me of that contemplation and preparation time.
Whew. Just writing about it brings it back so fresh. I'm really okay. It was just a big impact that I wasn't prepared for. The nurse prepared the solution and headed for Laurel. I reached for the syringe and she was somewhat surprised. She assumed I wouldn't want to administer this turning point drug to my wife. I said "I want to do everything." I have been beside her for this entire journey and I'm going with her all the way across the finish line. Holding the syringe, I spoke quietly into Laurel's ear. Words for just her. She wasn't groaning as much at this point and I hope she was comprehending what I was saying. These were bittersweet, tender moments which I already cherish. Without the gospel, these would be devastating moments full of despair and hopelessness. But we have a glorious future ahead of us in the eternities. She's just getting a head start and assured me earlier in this experience that she would be getting everything ready for me.
I told her I would see her soon and squirted the medication into her mouth. I had told the Lord how I would like our final moments to go, if He didn't mind. I sure didn't get that but they were still sweet and we'll look back one day while sitting on our celestial sofa, watching earth home movies and just shaking our heads over this whole 10 month experience. Yes, it's been 10 months to the day since she received her diagnosis.
So, as I said, my life changed today. I'm sitting on the sofa typing, and watching and listening to her breathe peacefully. No pain. No worries. Just peace. Finally. I'm happy for her. Exciting times ahead as she returns home in a coming day, to the place where she started, met by family and friends who are so glad to have her back from her mortal probation. I've got to say, she did a great job here and it has been a pleasure to observe her example of love, charity, humor, kindness and so many other admirable traits.
I hope to sleep more peacefully tonight. My job instantly got about 3000% easier today. It's been a privilege to work with her along this unexpected path. She has walked it with determination and grace and endurance. She is truly remarkable and I'm the luckiest man in the world.
Wow, that's incredible Michael. Your vulnerability, testimony, and assurances are powerful and they help the rest of us reading. Laurel is an amazing human being, and she was such a great childhood friend. I look forward to seeing her again as well. God bless you and your family
ReplyDeleteWhat an excruciating experience, I'm so sorry. The list you made of her "love, charity, humor, kindness," that's how I remember her as my friend and neighbour. You are both "truly remarkable," in your earthly lives, and especially in this journey you have taken together.
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