Good news: He's sleeping peacefully.
Bad news: I have to try to keep him
awake. The doctor says patients get
confused if they sleep during the day and are up all night. It's not good for
them to break their routine. Someone
said they do it just so the nurses have a smooth night shift. But apparently, there is more to it than
that. He has been really out of it
today. He was good last night but overcome with sleep when I arrived and
remained so ever since. Fr. Paul visited
him. He was able to communicate that he
was aware of his presence, but didn't open his eyes the whole time he was here.
I was a little worried, but all his vital signs look good. Guess laughter isn't
on the schedule for the day.
Neutral: For those who are unsure: Mike
has been on dialysis ever since he arrived here. We were sent over to Oahu
because he needed dialysis, and the Kona Hospital couldn't provide it. If he hadn't been getting regular dialysis,
he would have been dead a long time ago.
He has been following his regular schedule. At first, he was able to go to the dialysis
room, but since he has been in the ICU, they have brought the until to
him. He hates it, even without any
travel time added on.
His dialysis is scheduled for 1 pm
today. He's been calling out, "When will the dialysis start?"
"Has it started yet?" I asked him if the dialysis itself is
uncomfortable. He said, "No, it's the protocol." I asked him if he meant
the process of hooking up to the machine.
He nodded, yes. I reminded him that they weren't using the fistula
anymore. They had put in a port. Was he worried about the fistula? Yes, he said. It took him a few tries to get
it through his thick head that the fistula was no longer in use.
For those of you who know nothing
about this process: Mike had a fistula
put into his left arm for dialysis sometime in August. It's a minor surgical
procedure where a vein and an artery are somehow joined together. One needle
goes in one part, drawing the blood out, the other needle goes into the other
part, returning the blood after the dialysis machine has processed it – I
think. Close enough! There are two ways of getting in: one is by
the fistula with needle; the other is by a port, which provides constant access
to the body.
Mike's fistula never worked
correctly. It took up to an hour to get
in. They would poke him repeatedly to
try to get it in, so the blood flowed adequately. One time it took up to two
hours to get in. It was horrible. Finally, someone did say to him he should get
it checked. Before then, he was simply
told he had to tough it out until it matured. As it wound up, he has small
veins, and it is just tough to get in.
Mike hasn't been stuck by a needle for about a month, and his arm is
still black and blue. Thank God he got the port before pancreatitis hit. He wouldn't have been able to get this port
installed in the condition he is in. I
don't think he could have survived the additional pain of those needles along
with what he is currently going through.
Good news: My sense of urgency is less,
and I am slightly bored. Wonderful! I can do something other than focus on his
minute by minute needs.
I promised to
tell you what happened after Damon and Jean arrived the night. Mike was
admitted to the ICU.
As I said previously, I believe,
Kathy and John Coughlin waited with me until they could hand me over to Damon
and his mother, Jean. Then they went home to sleep.
Damon had made reservations in a hotel,
the Ashton Executive Suites, I think.
When we got there, he said it wasn't what he was thinking of. It was executive suites. Jean and I had a small apartment
together. Shivani was going to arrive
the next day and had also made a reservation in the same place.
While we were at the hospital,
Damon asked what I needed to feel better.
I said, "Nature!" Me I'm thinking walking out of the hospital
and lean on the barrier of an overpass in the hospital driveway to take in
nature in the gully beneath. Damon says,
"We're going to a 5-star hotel." Wow! That's one solution to the
problem.
We all moved to the Prince in
Waikiki that night. Jean and I shared one room, and Damon and Shivani shared
the other. He said the Prince didn't
cost that much more than the other hotel with my Kama’aina and Shivani's AAA.
Admittedly, the view was spectacular. I've already mentioned those incredible
windows that opened so wide without screens, and Damon and I both wondered if
people came there to commit suicide. The
view is of the mariner and the ocean beyond it, and the horizon beyond that. It
was a lovely view. Damon even noticed
that there was a park for me to walk in. Very, very sweet. Very, very caring. I am very, very touched by his care and
attention.
We had a great time at the hotel.
It was indeed much more cheerful than the executive suite we were in. We ate breakfast and dinner in the hotel
restaurants. We, I, had a fantastic
time. If I posted the pictures from that
time, you all would have envied us. Look at those folks; their lives are
perfect. Yep! Just perfect- if you don't
count the fact that someone we love is in the ICU fighting for his life. But it was a wonderful time. I believe it was more enjoyable for the
contrast. I was surrounded by people
who cared about me and cared for me.
Damon and Shivani told me they were
committed to helping take care of me.
How lucky can you be? I never
gave birth and have three kids, Yvette, my goddaughter, Damon, my step-son, and
Shivani, my niece, who are committed to helping to take care of me. Of course,
I cheated. I was and am a good aunt and
step-mother, but I don't confuse it with the more complicated, and dangerous,
role of being mother, nor the emotional bond which results from that more
deeply committed relationship. I am
grateful for what I have, trust me.
Our first evening together, the
four of us ate together. I laughed and
laughed. Then Jean came down with a
slight cold. She took to her bed and
didn't interact with us much anymore.
She was still there. That was enough.
The second night, it was just the
three of us. I think this is the first
time I have been alone with Damon as an adult.
Shivani was with us. She lived
with Mike and me for a while in Princeton, and then I visited her once in SF
many years ago. This was
different. These 'kids' are all in their
40s. As I remember it, it's at the point
where we all start viewing the familial adults in our lives as human beings
instead of failed icons.
On the second or third day in ICU,
a care package arrived from Kona. It was
the size of a file box. The nurse
thought it was dialysis supplies. I
opened it, looking forward to seeing the clothes I needed. Judy and her sister, Paulette, insisted that
they put together 'outfits' for me.
Anyone ever seen
me in an outfit? I wear clothes with a mind to protect me from the elements and
from being kicked out of whatever establishment I was thinking of
entering. Period, end of sentence! But they put together outfits. Problem: half the clothes they sent over weren't
mine. They were Yvette's. Now Yvette is
5'10" 130 lbs., and built like a model. She is slender, long-limbed, a
spectacularly beautiful woman. I'm 5'3" 135 lbs. with a 'mature woman's'
belly. Hmmm! They had raided a laundry
basket in my laundry room. Yvette will use my washing machine when she has too
much to do. (She's a massage therapist and washes a vast number of sheets.)
And, since their dryer broke, she always uses mine. We're on the same electric
and water, so it makes no difference to us, and it saves them the expense of
buying a new one. If ours breaks, we're
covered by Sears master plan, which we have used with great pleasure.
Besides any number of items of
clothing that would never fit me in a million years, they included a pair of
pink lace thongs. They thought I had a secret life. Not at any point in my life
would I have worn something that uncomfortable and itchy. All cotton bikini underpants, yes. Lace
anything, no. No less a synthetic material. Never, never, never.
Many years ago, Leona Helmsley was
sent to jail. I had a nightmare that she
would have to sleep on polyester sheets and wear polyester clothes. Does that give you an idea of how much I hate
synthetic materials?
Yvette sent me another care package
with some shirts, my yoga clothes, and a bathing suit. Everyone else had been using the hotel pool,
but I couldn't. Now I could. When we came home from the hospital, Damon,
Shivani, and I hung out, rather than swam, in the rim infinity pool of the
hotel. It was lovely.
Dinner was sushi that night. Both the kids love it; some of it was new for
me. I've been a California roll girl.
Jean left on Friday. Damon got her
business class so she could sleep comfortably on the plane to the east
coast. Before Shivani and I went to the
hospital, we went to our Turo host to pick up the rental car after dropping
Damon off at the hospital. Damon left on Saturday when he finally got news of
the results of the CAT scan after delaying his scheduled flight. Shivani and I went to the Airbnb she found
after we left the hospital. Shivani got
up at some impossible hour the next morning to make her flight to SF. I was on
my own, but the kids had made sure I was settled. I repeat how grateful I am
for their attention. I didn't have the
mental stamina to deal with all that on my own.
Sandor and Meali'inani came to
visit. Whereas Mike wasn't awake when
Fr. Paul was here, he was feeling a little better now. They made him laugh. I sat outside in the sun while they visited
it. I had to choose between the laughter
and the sun. I need sunshine. I finally
remembered that I haven't been taking my Vitamin. D pills. I must buy some.
While I was out, a doctor came in and
told Mike he had an infection. Sandor thought she was simplifying the words for
his sake, figuring he didn't know the difference between an infection and an
inflammation. We have been assured there is no sign of infection on the CT
scan, which shows up as bubbles. When
she left, Sandor assured Mike that he didn't have an infection. He said they speak to you like you're a
child. He said I know.
The dialysis still hadn't
started. Every once in a while, Mike
wakes up and moans about the dialysis.
When is it going to start? I'm just sitting here doing nothing! I started teaching him how to redirect his
thoughts. "Think of something else. Think of something nice." He does
that and then slips back. Even a trained
meditator does that. So, I'm his
reminder. When he wakes up, I remind him
to go back to his pleasant thoughts. I
told him that there is nothing he can do about the dialysis, but he can do
something about his thinking about it.
The dialysis nurse just came a few
minutes ago. I spoke to the regular nurse and the aide to make sure Mike gets
turned right before his dialysis starts since he has four hours straight to go,
even though he was just turned an hour before. The nurse gave me a look but
agreed. I'll take it.
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