From the first to the last
I just wanted a place to document this. I'm not a writer nor am I posting for sympathy... just posting in case this helps anyone in the same situation in the future.
I am her first grandson.
She had the privilege of watching me experience many of my firsts as she lived with us, forfeiting her retirement years to raise my brother and I with two full time middle class working parents.
How the tables have turned...
She had a big fall on Friday night, and yet we agreed to hold out until saturday. I am certain my stubborn traits come from her.
The pain was too unbearable then by saturday.
I made my first EMS call that day.
I watched her shake when her first ever IV went in.
For her first time, I watched her 94yo body get carried away on a tarp. Her first steps outside in over a year.
We shared our first ambulance ride.
This would be her first hospital admission.
I watched her struggle through each blood pressure test as her thin frail arms were compressed into shaking, fist clenching pain.
I listened as three nurses said “what?” when our nurse said "BP 221/91".
I watched her get taken to her first Xray while I sat outside.
I held her hand as she received other needles for bloodwork, totalling more needles than she’s had in her lifetime. Rotating cold hands coming in and out to do other testing / monitoring.
I watched her struggle holding in her bladder for 10+ hours.
I wanted to bear her pain for her every time she was moved.
I ordered for each pain killer / morphine injection that was necessary.
I watched her get shimmied in pain to use a bed pan because she refused to go in her diaper.
I felt the further struggle when her traditional Chinese upbringing was too conservative to use the bedpan in the paramedic’s care.
I listened to her scream behind the curtain “it’s so big, it's so big” as the catheter went in, and again as it came back out. I don't have clear understanding of why it wasn't to stay in.
I … I had to be the one to translate to her: Your hip is fractured. Your choices are surgery, or lifetime bedrest; for which lifetime bedrest would be limited to a few weeks max due to the complications of immobility, and pain management meds that may cause heart attack, stroke, shortness of breath leading to pneumonia.
I had to translate back to the doctor/surgeon that she’s opting out of surgery due to conservatism. 94 years, never seen a western doctor, never had so much western meds.
I watched for the next hours as she chose to starve / dehydrate herself as she refused to use the diaper still. Spitting out every oral medication she was given. Turning her head from me with each of her favourite foods / drinks I offered.
I watched the nurse stab her first COVID test probe deep into her nose as the tears came running.
I was helpless as was she, for the next few hours as we sat in silence in her new isolation room.
And when I left her bedside to go home to rest, only now, away from her eyes do I let my flood gates open. The fucking damn time I’m in there my selfish ass is thinking “the ear loops on this mask are causing me pain” as I watch every other medical professional in the area having struggled with this for years, as I watch every person in there struggle through each of their own pains. How pathetic.
My first hospital overnighter, I am leaving with “is this the last goodbye?”, and the sunken feeling of “do I get to come back tomorrow to say the last goodbye?”… to be continued
Update is that surgery is not an option due to ECG and blood count coming back with poor results. Comfort care will continue to the end, with the ultimate management being epidural. The verdict is max of a few days.
