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Sunshine Now
Jun. 4th, 2015 07:48 amI look like a she-bear. So today divides into halves, buying some clothes and preparing to be summerboot, sorting out eyebrows and hair. Then coming home and getting on with the thing... a big chunk needs re-writing, but I may have to come back to that. Not my usual way, I like to get one bit working before I move on to the next bit.
Macmillan nurses are just amazing. Speaking to one yesterday, I learned some grim but useful stuff. I was afraid that my mate's nausea was an end sign. Apparently it could be, but it could also be the medication, reaction to morphine, a blockage...
She also said that all things being equal and excepting the unusual and unpredictable, a basic 'tell' regarding his condition would be rate of deterioration. So, if he seems the same or with very little fluctuation from one month to the next, he might well have months...they might be 'short' months, but still. Deterioration that is noticeable from week to week implies that his measure is in weeks rather than months. Apparently the end is close when the deterioration is rapid, and noticeable from day to day. If his pain is not managed properly, there is a chance of some difficulty at the end, but if the medication is balanced, it may be that he just falls asleep more and more often through the days until he doesn't wake up again.
Cheerless though this sounds, it gives me hope. He is nowhere near that stage. He uses a stick to walk around, albeit slowly. We are all hoping because he is hoping, determined to live. The nurse mentioned the whole living at home thing; nurses and carers will be popping in and out, but he will have huge swathes of time alone, and they wouldn't necessarily be staying overnight. The chance does exist that he might die with no-one around. Maybe that's no bad thing, but there is something terrible about the idea of him dying in pain or suffering morphine terrors - but he hasn't had those for a bit. She told me to be conscious that the conversation about a hospice might need to come up again. I know he won't consider it unless there is no other option, that to admit hospice care means admitting death.
And when I write like this, it's like I am a traitor, admitting it too. So I get it out of my system, and try to forget it. It's going to be a beautiful day. Work later, sunshine now.
Macmillan nurses are just amazing. Speaking to one yesterday, I learned some grim but useful stuff. I was afraid that my mate's nausea was an end sign. Apparently it could be, but it could also be the medication, reaction to morphine, a blockage...
She also said that all things being equal and excepting the unusual and unpredictable, a basic 'tell' regarding his condition would be rate of deterioration. So, if he seems the same or with very little fluctuation from one month to the next, he might well have months...they might be 'short' months, but still. Deterioration that is noticeable from week to week implies that his measure is in weeks rather than months. Apparently the end is close when the deterioration is rapid, and noticeable from day to day. If his pain is not managed properly, there is a chance of some difficulty at the end, but if the medication is balanced, it may be that he just falls asleep more and more often through the days until he doesn't wake up again.
Cheerless though this sounds, it gives me hope. He is nowhere near that stage. He uses a stick to walk around, albeit slowly. We are all hoping because he is hoping, determined to live. The nurse mentioned the whole living at home thing; nurses and carers will be popping in and out, but he will have huge swathes of time alone, and they wouldn't necessarily be staying overnight. The chance does exist that he might die with no-one around. Maybe that's no bad thing, but there is something terrible about the idea of him dying in pain or suffering morphine terrors - but he hasn't had those for a bit. She told me to be conscious that the conversation about a hospice might need to come up again. I know he won't consider it unless there is no other option, that to admit hospice care means admitting death.
And when I write like this, it's like I am a traitor, admitting it too. So I get it out of my system, and try to forget it. It's going to be a beautiful day. Work later, sunshine now.
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