Tales From The Crypt - Tuesday 19th July to Friday 22nd July 2022

The crypt is very quiet.

It's more like ducks actually: serene and calm on the surface but paddling like fury below the water line.

This is my first post in a few days because life has become quite difficult.

Normally I write lots of irrelevant detail to add local colour and a touch of the mundane, but this post is going to be a bit more direct. It may even become list-like.

The story begins on Tuesday at lunchtime.  I went to visit my wife in hospital hoping to see her consultant just to get an understanding of the direction of travel, as I've been concerned she doesn't seem to be getting any better.

After masking up etc I went to see her and noticed she was now on 15 litres of oxygen an hour and yet her sats were still in the low to mid-90s. Not long after I got there the doctor asked me to step outside into a room for a chat. Based on my paltry medical knowledge and the evidence of my own eyes, I had a feeling I knew what was coming.  

The cold hard facts are that E is not getting better, instead, she's getting worse. They can't give her more oxygen (she's on the maximum) and as I suspected, she still isn't getting enough.  They are recommending that it would be kinder to her to turn off the oxygen, make her comfortable with pain relieving medication and let nature take its course. They indicated she might go quite quickly though it could take several days, given her age etc.  Despite having known for several years this is how things would end, it was still a bit of a body blow.  I know it is the right thing to do because I can see she is not getting better, far from it.

Our sons arrived at the hospital from various compass points to be present with their mum and say their goodbyes. For various complex reasons which I'm not going into here, only son #1 and I were present when the oxygen was removed and morphine administered.  Nothing happened. Nothing dramatic. Death is not like it's portrayed in Hollywood movies.  We stuck around for a few hours, but it seemed like nothing was happening and we were knackered, so we drove home. I asked the nurses to call at any time.

Wednesday, Thursday and today, Friday, have been spent sitting with E, mostly alone but sometimes with son #1.  I've seen my kid sister twice as she works at the hospital. I've had long chats with consultants, palliative care doctors, a palliative care nurse and a palliative care consultant. It has been an exhausting emotional rollercoaster ride. Still, she hangs in there, perhaps by a thread, but bloody strong thread,

I need a break from it, so I'm probably only going to go in if called.  As of Friday evening, E has been moved to a side room in a palliative care ward. That's much better for her and she'll receive the most appropriate care.

There's much peripheral stuff that will go unrecorded here, but this is the best I can do.

Russia. I seem to have developed a readership in Russia, which is odd. These readers could be genuine, but coincidentally the increase in hits from Russia has tallied with several attacks on my accounts. Who knows? Of course, it could be a coincidence. One of my sons has suggested plausible explanations. Surely only deeply flawed individuals would undertake such data mining. I could say more but I won't. For now, at least.

The music choice is difficult today. Do I go for something loud, angry and ferocious? It feels appropriate. Rage against the dying of the light. Instead, perhaps, I go for something beautiful and serene, like E. Maybe I choose a song that E loves, though all those that come to mind are sad songs. 

The The / 'Slow Emotion Replay' / 'Dusk'

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