Yesterday was just another day in the saga of our family. Saga. Our children’s childhood is a saga…
Morning started off great. Got Frances to school on time. Brad to the counselor a few minutes early. I answered some texts and e-mails. I had a counseling appointment. Work had told me I didn’t need to come in, so great, I could get a few things done around the house. Started another load of laundry. Called to make a hair appointment and there had been a cancellation. She could fit me in at 1! Wow! That never happens. Get laundry on the line. Still need to work on a letter for The Garner Foundation and pay a couple of bills, but it is time to go. I make a mental list of the things I need to do when I get back.
While I am sitting with my hair in foils and with lots of chemicals amassed throughout my tangles, the phone rings. I don’t recognize the number so I let it go to voicemail. Then I listen.
This is the point in our movie where the background music goes from light and cheery to a slow, steady, darker melody.
Jim has been having some issues with his bladder being distended. The doctor had visited. An ultrasound had been performed. Meds ordered. The doctor believes it is a side effect from the medicine Jim is on to counteract his aggressiveness. He was barely able to walk and seemed to be in a lot of pain, although he wasn’t able to verbalize this clearly. They wanted me to come take him to the emergency room. I felt like the worst, uncaring person in the world saying I could not come right that minute, I was at the hairdresser. But as I sat there while the chemicals were rinsed out of my hair and as she cut a few inches of dead weight away, I felt my guilt lift. I was doing the best I could. I was getting my hair done and could not have known at that very moment they would call. This was a huge step for me….letting go of something I ultimately didn’t have control over. My earlier counseling appointment was coming in handy.
So, without eating lunch, I headed to see Jim. Mentally I am going through the evening schedule and deep down I know that Frances is going to miss softball practice. She missed both practices last week because she was sick. I was not looking forward to telling her she would miss again. In a surprise reaction, she was ok. I think she knew that Daddy being in the ER trumps practice. Luckily her coach understood as well. Another moment of realizing our kids are maturing and growing up. Either that or they are getting used to last minute changes to their schedule because I need to be there with Jim.
I changed him and got him to go to the bathroom. (I will purposefully leave details out in respect of his privacy) I took him to the closest ER. 3 hour minimum wait to get seen. I walk us back out to the van and start calling around. I take him to another ER and get seen in about an hour. As we sit in the waiting room, two different families are helping their children with homework. Another woman is over in the corner throwing up in a cup. I start gagging (one of the many reasons I am not a great caregiver) so I take Jim with me to the bathroom because I haven’t gone myself since I first got up many hours ago and I am tired of holding it.
Back to the waiting room. Jim falls asleep and starts to drool as he hunches over. They finally call us to the admittance nurse. She checks his temperature. Checks his blood pressure. Asks him how tall he is and how much he weighs. He just sits there without even registering she is talking to him. He is lethargic and cannot put an audible sentence together. I tell her (again) he has Alzheimer’s and can’t answer (always have to say these things IN FRONT of him). She asks me how to spell A-L-Z-H-E-I-M-E-R-‘-S. By now, I am over this. OVER all of it. Over the wait. Over the people in the waiting room. Over her lack of dementia knowledge while working in a medical setting. I do something I don’t do very often…post something on Facebook that isn’t the most positive. I just wasn’t mentally ready for this interruption into our schedule today. Back to the waiting room. Brad is home from school. I order him to work on his homework and take the dog for a walk. Then he is going over to a friends’ house whose Mom I left a message for. I hope someone will be home. Frances has a ride home from field hockey. I text her to call me as soon as she is home. The nurse calls us and as we get up to go to the back, my phone rings. It is Frances’ field hockey coach. Oh no. Please don’t let her be hurt. I answer, even though I am literally walking through the emergency room, guiding Jim and following and listening to the intake nurse.
“Hi. This is Frances’ coach and she is doing a great job playing field hockey and running cross country. We have been really happy about having her on the team. You know, tomorrow is a very important game for us and she was planning on running a 5k with cross country in their meet and then coming to play the field hockey game.”
“Yes, I know. I was going to give her a ride.”
“Well, I wanted to let you know I just met with her and told her she couldn’t do this. I don’t think she was very happy with my decision but with it being our biggest game, I don’t want her tired.”
We are now at the room and I am trying to comprehend what she is saying and what the nurse is asking us to do. Jim is hunched over in pain.
“Ummmm. Yes. Ahhh. Thank you for calling to tell me. I will discuss this with her tonight. Have you told the other girls who were going to do this?”
“Yes. They were fine. Frances didn’t say anything so I knew she was upset and I wanted you to hear my side of the story. If she goes to cross country, I will cut her from the team.”
They are giving me instructions to put on his gown. Did they say the opening to the front or the back? Leave his shirt on?
“Uhhh, ok. I will talk to her when I get home. Thank you again for calling.”
As we are waiting, a friend shows up with a breakfast bar (knowing me the way she does, she knows I haven’t eaten) Then my other friend calls and says Brad can come over. As I am starting to explain to her what is going on, the doctor comes in. I have to cut her off and go.
Jim needs a catheter.
So we wait a short time and they put in a catheter. 1500 cc’s of urine come out of that man. (I didn’t know it at the time: that is a lot of urine). The normal amount when you feel like you have to go is about 400.
Jim is still in pain. He is shaking and jerking and tries to get up. His coloring is pale. He listens to me and lays down without a fight. He holds my hand, and our friends’ hand, and does his best to keep us happy. He tells me he loves me. He smiles. He grimaces in pain. We ask for something to help his discomfort. They give him something.
They change the bag to a smaller one that is taped to the inside of his leg and discharge him back to my care.
My friend has left and taken the kids to eat dinner and after I drop Jim back off, making sure he is fed and comfortable, I join them for 30 minutes, scarfing down some brisket and a beer.
Then on the way home, I call the friend who had watched Brad earlier in the day. She was concerned and relieved. She tells me Brad has a test tomorrow. Ughhh. I make a mental note to ask him some questions.
We get home and there is a load of laundry in the dryer, dishes in the sink, and phone calls and texts to return. I empty the dishwasher and fold the towels. Frances works on her homework. Brad gets his shower. I ask him those questions about European explorers and feel like I have actually done something important. Frances still needs to talk to me about the whole field hockey/cross country dilemma. I am starting to feel really tired. How do hospitals completely wipe you out, even though all you do is sit around?
Facebook has exploded. I meant to just rant about the intake nurse needing some Alzheimer’s education, but what I failed to realize is by informing everyone that Jim was at the Emergency Room, our friends stepped up. Offers of helping with the kids came pouring in and messages checking on Jim and checking on me were plentiful. I felt loved and cared for and supported. I felt that safety net underneath us. I felt like we were going to be all right, no matter what.
By now, it was way past bedtimes and Brad was making his bed. It was at that moment I realized I had forgotten to get in the sheets off the clothesline. They were wet already from the dew. So in the dryer they went and the dishes that were soaking in the sink, well, they stayed there until the morning.
But as I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, all I could think about was going to bed with dirty dishes in the sink, the tax form I completely forgot to pick up, the conversation with Frances and her worry, thinking of Jim, hoping he didn’t pull out the catheter, remembering I needed to pay two bills I thought I would do after I had gotten my hair done and the last thing I remember is going through the numerous messages of love. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep, but at daybreak, I woke, before my alarm, which is highly unusual, and laid in bed, going back over in my mind all of the wonderful offers of help we had received the night before. I felt blessed and it was a great way to start the day.