Thursday, 15 March 2012

Bulletin: Back in the Jug Agane

C was well enough yesterday: we had visitors, she went out to Big Cred to do some shopping, Then, suddenly, around 8 pm when I was getting dinner, she had a serious shivering fit – rigours I think they call it – that went on for about an hour: then she was too hot, and then she started to throw up. We got her warm and stabilized, and she slept for a while, with me dozing in the armchair for a couple of hours, until about 1.30, when the fool dog decided he had to go out for a pee and a crap. As C was sleeping soundly, I kept him downstairs with me while I cleaned up the kitchen and dithered around until about 2.15, when I delivered him back to the bedroom, had a few words with C, who was barely conscious, then went to bed in the guest room. By this time, I had woken up, so I read for a while. I turned the light out at three, then almost immediately heard the unmistakeable sounds of vomiting on the baby monitor we use as a one way intercom. 

She could not keep down water, pills, anything, so I phoned the night medical service, got dressed, and waited. They came at four, and the doc gave C a shot to quieten her stomach. I went back to bed at 5 (setting the alarm for 7.30 so I could wake up C in time for here morning pill regime – so many of the various pills she takes have sedative effects that she cannot rely on an alarm clock to wake her), and slept until 7, when the baby monitor woke me again – fool dog needed out. So I took him downstairs and let him into the garden and made C, who was awake and stirring, another cup of weak Earl Grey tea, current tipple of choice. At this point it was 7.30 or so: C had her pills and ran a bath, while I got into our bed and got my head down for two more hours, interrupted only by going down to the kitchen a couple of times to make C - who had acquired a raging thirst, the symptoms just kept on coming – more tea.

She felt OK, if a little weak and unwilling to contemplate any activity that didn't involve staying in bed, and we bumbled through the morning. Around lunchtime I phoned the GP's surgery to ask about the problems C is having with night sweats and shivering, and she, having just read the night doctor's report, decided to come out and have a look. She (the GP) thinks that the stent put in in November is failing, and feels that C should have it replaced, if possible: if it isn't possible, well, they will try and keep the infections at bay with antibiotics, and she will simply get more and more jaundiced. So, there was a great flurry of activity and packing (four bags: clothes, entertainment, drugs and food – the catering at the RD&E, in direct contrast to the medical care,  is beyond inadequate, it's an insult),  and once again, my love left in an ambulance at around 3.30. 

It's very difficult to keep things in the day when something like this happens. For months now, we've been able to forget, for long periods of virtually every day, that Chip is dying, and to concentrate on living, on the love we have for each other, our dog, our home, our garden, our lives. Neither of us had any inkling that this latest bout was anything other than a dip on the rollercoaster. It felt like a blow to the solar plexus

It may yet prove to be just another dip, and I'm sure my natural optimism will reassert itself, and probably quite soon, but right here, right now, in this moment, the house seems horribly empty, purpose and direction lacking, nothing to do but wander about, and howl my devastation at the everyday reminders of separation, and wait for news...

I'll keep you posted

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