Monday, January 28, 2019, 7:35 am HST

            Well, he had to go back on Fentanyl because of terrible back pain.  He had a bad night with only bits of sleep.  Between the drugs and the lack of sleep, he is basically out of it.  During the night, he started pulling on the oxygen telemeter, and then his nasal oxygen supply, and this morning, he tried to pull out his IV.

            His night attendant (yes, there is someone sitting in the room 24/7 watching him) tried to explain why he couldn't do all those things.  Mike would say, "Okay," and a minute later, go to work again.  We got some respite when I told him the Bishop ordered him to stop, and if he started up again, I would report it to Fr. Lio, the pastor he works under.  That bought us some respite from his antics.

            The surgeon was here this morning, who is the person in charge of this disease.  I asked him outright about Mike's chances.  He said he has seen people die from the disease and the aftermath of it, and Mike has a very bad case.  I started to cry.  Mike had the best reaction in 24 hours.  He said, "She's trying to kill me off." This is somewhat of an in-joke with us.  Since I lost my dad at 15, I expect people to die if they are not where they are when they are supposed to be there.  This has been going on since we were 30. He'd come home late and find me curled up crying.  I would say I was ready to put on my widow's weeds. 

            I know that close family members have already proposed coming out to help me.  I don't think there is anything they can do while he is in the hospital, and it would be very inconvenient more than helpful.  However, when we get home, since we may still be dealing with the aftereffects of this problem, I think everyone should come out. We'll work it out.

            If anything critical happens in the hospital, I will put out an APB, no worries. 

            I stay hopeful. It's still inconceivable that he should be gone from my life.

Sunday, January 27, 2019, 10:37:44 pm HST

            We are making progress.  He can lie flat, which he couldn't do earlier because it caused great abdominal pain. Yeah!  He reported that his pain level this morning was zero.  We don't know how much Fentanyl he was on at the time of this report. He also asked to have the tv turned on.  Another, yeah!  While I brought books, he hasn't asked to read any yet.  He just called Damon on his own initiative this morning.  Another first.  Yesterday, he had some Jell-O. He ordered a popsicle for this morning and downed the whole thing.

            Baddish news:  His back is killing him because he has been lying in bed for so long.  Mike says the latest is that he will be here for about 2 weeks.  He has an additional problem: because of some chemicals produced by the body to heal the wounded pancreas, his bladder is getting false information about a need to urinate.  He was up every 15 minutes last night. 

            Goodish news: because Mike has to get up so frequently and sometimes starts to get up on his own, he has been assigned Sergeant Cherry to sit in our room and watch him ALL THE TIME. She's a sweet lady, and it makes me want to cry he's getting such good care.

            Funnyish news: Someone came in and asked this drugged man if he knew where he was. He started into a long explanation about his pancreatitis.  I said, "Are you in New York, Florida, etc.?" He finally understood the question and responded with," I'm here" Sounds good to me.

            Bad news: the nurse just came in and announced that she had new orders that he was to be off all water and food.  It sounds like they are contemplating surgery.  It might be to reduce the fluids or to start removing some of the dead cells from his pancreas. They are giving him insulin. There is a good chance that his whole pancreas has been destroyed, and besides meds to compensate for some of his missing enzymes, he will be on insulin permanently.

            We're hanging in there. He's adapting well.  Once I have trained him to call for help instead of just moaning within my hearing and relying on me to get help, I will go home, at least for a while. (No, he's not just doing this because I'm here.  He is reluctant to 'bother anyone.") He wants me to be able to go home.  So I'm telling him I won't go until I can trust him to take care of himself. So there!

Saturday, January 26, 2019, 4:21:29 pm HST

Thanks to all of you who sent good wishes.  I haven't been on my computer much because I left my power cord home. Oh, well. 

While the problem isn't great, Mike is healing well.  His pain level yesterday was a 7 to 8, and today it was from 5 to 6.  When he was in the ER Thursday night, it was a 20 on a range of 1-10. Pancreatitis is one of the most painful things one can endure.  (Other painful things can happen to our bodies, like having every bone in your body crushed, but shock kicks in and kills the pain.)

            Pancreatitis is a disease in which the enzymes, stored in the pancreas, are all released at once and destroy the organ. It is possible to have a mild attack or a severe attack.  Mike had a very severe attack. Most of his pancreas was killed. He may be a diabetic because if it killed the part of the organ that produces insulin.

            We were told that he might be in the hospital for 2 to 3 days, 2 to 3 weeks, or 2 to 3  months.  The doctor was in today and said he would cry if he was here for even one month. At this point, the most optimistic estimate is one week. 

            Mike is suffering from hunger as well as pain due to the swelling in his abdomen. When he came in, he was dependent on intravenous liquids to stay hydrated.  Nothing could pass his lips.  Anything introduced through the mouth would induce additional pain, triggering the GI system to go into action and pump out more enzymes that would attack the pancreas.  Today he was allowed to suck on ice chips.  When the doctor came in, he talked about starting to introduce clear liquids: Jell-O, tea, clear broth, etc. 

            Mike was seen by a surgeon who was on call in case a more radical approach is required, and his body didn't do the job of healing on its own.  There are two possible outcomes, as I understand it. If he is unable to consume food on his own by this coming Thursday, a port will have to be inserted that can handle a denser level of nutrients than the saline port can.  The other is if the dead pancreatic cells have to be surgically removed. I'm hopeful that it doesn't come to either of those situations.

            The best news is that Mike asked for his glasses today. I took them off his face around 9 pm on Thursday night in the emergency room in Kona. He asked for them a Saturday around 2pm.   Now he has been on powerful painkillers, including Fentanyl.  He has been reluctant to take that because of its bad reputation. I assured him, as has the doctor, that it is unlikely to become addictive when under hospital supervision. I assured him that he'd have a tough time staying addicted with me on the case. I said, "Remember, Mike. You're married to me." He agreed to take them, not to worry about it and enjoy the relief from pain.