Today we met Annie Ellison, the Health Care Aid that will be staying with Nancy for 6 hours each day this week. To me, she seems wonderful. It doesn’t take long to realize that Annie has a deep respect for human dignity and wants nothing more than to make Nancy feel comfortable and me to feel at ease, knowing that Nancy will be in good hands while I am away working at the university. Nancy said that she didn’t want someone who was “chatty” because that might make it difficult for her to rest. I think Annie is a little chatty, but if she is, that doesn’t seem to bother Nancy. The compassion that exudes from Annie disarms you and is very comforting. I am certain that Annie was the perfect match for us.
The hospice nurse, Janet, visited today and was concerned that Nancy is still getting too much fluid, or that she isn’t getting rid of as much as she did when she first started hospice care. I agree that Nancy's limbs seem very puffy and tight, much the same as they did when Nancy was pregnant with our kids over 20 years ago. Nancy’s IV fluids have been reduced again and Nancy is now also getting oxygen because her breathing is becoming labored. I feel that slowly, the gap is widening -- Nancy is slipping away from us -- and closer to God.
I really don’t want what I am about to write to sound insensitive, because I think the story I want to tell you is rather touching. Last night, I woke at about 2:00 a.m. with the sounds Nancy makes when she is searching for something with her hands on the tray beside her bed. I turned on a light to assist her – only to find that she was apparently having a dream and during it, she removed her colostomy bag and now its contents were spread all over her hands, her nightgown and the bedding. When she woke up enough to realize what had happened, she tried to tell me how sorry she was for making such a mess. I tried to reassure her that it would be OK; I knew I could clean her and her bedding easily enough, but I was more than a little nervous about not knowing how to replace her colostomy bag. Even though she had replaced it close to a hundred times since the surgery that required it, her hands don’t work well enough now to do it herself and she is having so much trouble communicating, I didn’t know if she would be able to “walk me through” it. Most of the supplies for bag changing were next to the bed in a small black zipper-bag that she usually carried with her when she was away from home. However, she knew there were additional required items required that were unintentionally “hidden” in several locations in our bathroom. The next half hour felt like a combination of a game of charades and putting together unassembled furniture with the instructions translated badly from Chinese. If the subject matter hadn't been so sensitive, our comedy routine could have been part of an "I Love Lucy" show. I eventually found the missing supplies and we stumbled through the bag change... but we did get the job done! When it was all over, we both laughed and hugged. Nancy felt good that she was still able to teach and I felt relieved that we had succeeded in completing a task with which I was never very comfortable. Following that event, even with my lack of sleep, the day seemed bright and full of promise. Although I know that Nancy isn’t going to regain her health, it helps me to know that there are still highlights for her to enjoy.
In your comments to this blog, several of you have recounted a touching moment or funny story that reminded you of a happier time for Nancy with you. Now I am asking for more of those stories. Please e-mail your stories to me at the following e-mail address: eetman@yahoo.com. Thanks, I know it will bring Nancy some joy to know that you carry fond memories of her.
4 comments:
Nancy and Alan,
Your strength and sense of humor are an inspiration!
Gaye
I haven't seen Nancy for a week now but I read the blog every day. My heart is heavy with my concerns for Nancy and the whole family, but especially for you, Alan. I do know that Nancy is being well cared for and that her time with us all makes all the struggles worth the effort. I wish I were closer...I wish that every day.
I cannot "see" Nancy as she is now, nor will I remember her this way as time passes. I will always remember her as she has always been for me...a best friend, a sister (we always said we thought we were secretly sisters in the great cosmos).
I remember one of our first meetings. Alan was digging in the backyard at your house in Burwick Terrace. Ryan wasn't born yet, or was newborn....I can't remember exactly. I had come over to complain that I was having a bad day and was beginning to think I was jinxed...Alan was the first to logically assure me I was wrong, and Nancy was, as always, there to listen and laugh with me. Just then, Alan's shovel cut the gas line in the yard, and I quickly retreated to my own house! Nancy and I often laughed at that story.
Do you also remember when Ryan was a baby and we were involved in a road rally game with the church co-weds. Well, none of us were too good at following the clues and Ryan was getting fussy and screaming in the back seat. Suddenly we all laughed, headed for home and made our own ice cream sundaes there.
How many Christmas dinners did we share? And birthdays and graduations? Somehow, we remained good friends over 30 years of both good and hard times. Nancy and Alan, you were always there for us. You will both always be our best friends.
Alan, your commitment to Nancy for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health is such a wonderful example for all three of your kids and the rest of us.
We have known your family for 12 years and had many fun times of game nights over Christmas holidays, fondue night and many hours of sitting on the bleachers at football games and band competitions as well as our girls being in choir together. I will cherish all those fond memories.
Bev and family
Nancy and Alan:
Thank you for the greatest gift of sharing--with each other and with each of us!
Life is not about luck but about how we deal with whatever is dealt us.
You are life-models for us.
Sincerely, Ruth
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