A Caretaker's Really Rough Day

12:00 AM February 29, 2016

I was already up. I could hear him moaning in pain as he moved to get up. Granted I was up all night on my phone because I couldn't sleep. I get up, help him out of his chair, he hobbles to the bathroom. I fix his chair pillow and blanket and when he comes out he's almost in tears because his leg is so bad. He plops down, moaning in pain, and I administer 2 mg of morphine. He thanks me, I kiss his head, and linger until he's drifted off to a restless sleep again. Back to bed, I go.

1:30 AM February 29, 2016

I just drifted off to sleep when I hear him crying out. I jump out of bed, rush to him in his chair and rub out the leg cramp. He's half-asleep, mumbles to me through no teeth incoherently. I smile and tell him to never mind it. I fix his socks and his leg pants which had become disarrayed and linger again until he's fallen further asleep. Back to bed, I go.

4:00 AM February 29, 2016

My alarm goes off. Thank goodness it did. For the fifth... maybe the sixth time since I tried turning out the lights and locking the doors I go to him as he moans in pain. I soothe him, he's clammy. The pain must have given him a nightmare because he's dazed and confused. "Okay, Grandpa. It's okay."

I go and get his every-4-hour dose of morphine. The pain is so bad, I give him 3 mg this time because now I can tell he's crying again. I sit with him and listen to him talk once he's settled down.

"I'm sorry honey. I hate being such a burden."

"No Grandpa, it's why I'm here. I stayed for this reason. Don't you worry."

"I'm sorry honey...I wake the baby up too much."

Another kiss to the forehead and a smile. I hope he can't tell I'm exhausted.

"No Papaw, it's okay. Is it better now?"

He's drifting off to sleep already, and I pad back to my room.

7:30 AM February 29, 2016

I'm already awake, panic filling me. I fell asleep, I was sleeping hard. I didn't hear him. Is he okay? Rush out to check on him. He's asleep, his labored chest rising and falling as he sleeps deeply. Finally. Okay. Good. Back to bed, I go. I'm so tired.

7:59 AM February 29, 2016

No sleep for me. I'm in bed feeling guilty. What if he'd called for me? I didn't hear him. I'd passed out. What if he'd died while I was asleep? Please let him have gotten some decent - wait, what is that? Moans of pain. Up I go as the alarm goes off for his 8 AM dose. And time for his other pills. I turn it off, get up. Run to him. He's confused again, wondering what time it is, his voice loud and excited. Pain.

"Dirty old bastard ouch, Oh! Damn it!" Oh yep. He's in bad pain again. He's holding his leg, I quickly grab the morphine and give him 2 mg.

"Honey I don't know what to do! I don't know what's wrong. I just don't know!"

"Okay Grandpa shh, here. Here's your other pills. Okay good, drink." I go to get him some soup as he moans in pain. I blend the already creamy substance because there's chunks of chicken and ever since his stroke he's had a hard time swallowing. Yesterday he couldn't eat anything solid, he threw it all up. So soup for breakfast. Yuck. He drinks it though, and I am relieved but the pain isn't easing. The DR ordered Xrays (oh and don't get me started on that POS doctor. He's lucky I have enough control to keep myself from strangling people in public) to see if there was anything wrong with his leg.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't know."

"Okay Grandpa, we're going to go get your X-rays today."

"Well, you're gonna have to call Gary. You are going to have to dope me up. Oh damn it! I swear I can't take it! If we can't do something I swear I'll just shoot myself. I can't take it anymore!"

Time to hide the gun Great-Uncle Gary brought over for me in case anyone caught wind of just me and my weak sick grandpa up here with strong narcotics. I guess this blog doesn't exactly hide the fact. He says he's constipated and before I realize what he's doing, he's taken two double doses of milk of magnesia. Ohhh great.

8:30 AM February 29, 2016

After another 3 mg of Morphine, he's finally settled. He's got his brace on again. I'm dressed and ready. I'd called my sweet funny great uncle and woke him up. I feel bad, but for the moment I'm without a car and Grandpa's truck is as old as Dinosaurs are. Well. Maybe as old as him. And he's 74 years old. No way am I trusting that trusty old bucket. I am calling on all his finances, documents. Getting his affairs in order. Changing the life insurance policy, because someone took the liberty of putting themselves as the beneficiary which yesterday Grandpa was not excited about. I doped him up good for the car ride. And making the calls keeps me from biting my fingernails in anxiety.

10:45 AM February 29, 2016

Uncle Gary makes it here, just as Grandpa's getting out of the bathroom. Before I even have a chance to understand Grandpa's ready to go he's trying to put on his shoes, heading out the door. I rush, forget his morphine. Get him in the car. Uncle Gary rides in the back. I drive. And today was the day I discovered Tennessee drivers are crazy. And these roads are so curvy. I'm convinced we're gonna die. None of this is going to matter, because Tennessee or one of its residents is going to freaking kill us. I was used to California and Texas, straight roads. No mountains, or Kiss-My-Arse-Curves, and I'm used to people staying in their lane. Uncle Gary is soothing in the back with his constant stream of jokes and riddles and singing. Honestly, this exactly what my younger brother is like. This is going to be him when he's 76. Happy, cheerful constant stream of funny noises, stories, jokes, and songs, while his great-niece drives us to the hospital while fighting off a nervous breakdown.

11:30 AM February 29, 2016

At the hospital. The laxatives have kicked in, and the hospital people are grumpy arses. I know you're dealing with sick and tired and upset people all day but I am trying to pleasant to you, despite my grandfather's obvious pain, and my uncertainty and my absolute NO CLUE how these things work, and your VERY hateful personality. The least you could do, evil receptionist lady, is be kinder to those of us who are taking care of sick people. If you don't like your job...get another one because people like me are stressed enough.

12:41 PM February 29, 2016

It only took an hour and 5 trips to the bathroom for my grandfather. The intern for the X-rays was a beautiful little thing, who was sweet and gentle and helpful. Grandpa, despite how much pain he's in, is always a flirt. Dirty old perv. The morphine kicked in though, so he's in good spirits. Finally. I bet the pretty little brunette with the gentle touch and sweet smile helped too. I smile at her appreciatively. Thank you for making my Grandpa's day. You, little girl, are definitely a sweet little intern. Stay that way for as long as possible.

2:00 PM February 29, 2016

Home. Grandpa's really suffering. Soon as we got home he started to vomit, and the laxatives continue their evil work on his stomach. Nothing I can do. I can't get him to eat. He's drinking water. Which is better than I can ask for. He's extremely stubborn, and it's really hard to get him to cooperate unless he wants to. More business calls while he naps between bathroom breaks and vomiting, and Uncle Gary naps on the couch too. Old people sleep a lot...

5:00 PM February 29, 2016

I'm imploding with frustration. AT&T had me on hold for an hour. The first guy hung up on me. The second guy wanted to just sell me crap instead of listening to my issue. 30 minutes of more holding and FINALLY! GLORY GLORY an AMERICAN. A young gentleman answered, he's got that attractive tenor that says he can probably sing beautifully if he tried. It was deep, masculine and I nearly cried with relief when I heard it was untarnished by a thick accent I couldn't understand and pauses that told me he was having to translate it in his head before he spoke to me. Five minutes my problem was solved (why the HECK did my grandfather have international calling? No wonder his bill was so high), and he was my absolute hero.

For the rest of the evening, it's filled with Uncle Gary talking to me, trying to help me find a car (with no luck), keeping me soothed as Grandpa goes back and forth and keeps vomiting.

He's vomiting stuff that looks like slimy coffee grounds. It could be his tumor. Or dried blood. Or his lungs just giving out. Whatever. I don't feel like I can take any more today. Uncle Gary talks about soothing things like staying over more often, and helping me out. Offering to let me take the care if I feel like I'm just going to snap and go relax somewhere by myself away from the house.

Uncle Gary has no clue how much I appreciate that. I'm on the verge of tears all day. I have never dealt with anything this stressful. My head hurts. I'm so tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally. Grandpa can't even take his evening pills and I tell him not to. He didn't throw the jello up I gave him a few hours ago but... he's not exactly doing well either. He continues to moan and cry throughout the night, and Uncle Gary does his best to help. as the night goes on, and on, filled with the sound of my grandpa crying and moaning in pain.

12:23 AM, March 1, 2016

Grandpa is crying again. He has been for hours, and I am about to go crazy. I'm too afraid to give him anymore medicine for his pain, afraid of overdosing him.

Please stay alive for another night okay?

Tomorrow you'll feel better and you can eat a little more and not throw it up. Maybe have a milkshake even. Maybe we can do that while we sort out the issue of your Living Will and Testimony.

And if you die before we all wake up in the morning I'm going to be SO pissed off you have no idea old man, I will bring you back from the dead JUST so I can yell at you.

Seriously. I don't care if you have to wake me up a million times tonight. Just keep breathing. Because no one is ready yet for you to go. It wouldn't be fair. You haven't even gotten to see my little sister since she's grown up. So don't you dare die before her and mom come out to visit us in a couple of weeks.

12/26/2019

I know it was selfish of me to feel this way back then. There was a lot to do still to make sure his arrangements were what he wanted, and to be honest, I wasn't happy about the idea of taking care of him until he died. Death had never bothered me before. When I heard someone in the family passed away, I'd be sad of course, but I never experienced true grief over it. For some reason the thought of my grandfather dying in the same house as me, under my care, got under my skin. I didn't want him to die while I was taking care of him - because death was the exact opposite result what taking care of someone is supposed to be.

I truly believe that most of it was a psychological emotion. My grandpa, as much as I loved him, and I were not close. I didn't know him but for two years and one summer out of my entire childhood. Though I will say, the last few months of his life where I took care of him certainly did bring us closer together. I am glad to say he didn't die until a couple of months after this day - and by then he and I had grown quite close, and I was able to properly grieve without these conflicting emotions.