Intensive care (day 8)
I spent last night having a lovely evening with some friends. Gone are the days when I am prepared for all day and night sits. For a while now there has been a seperate part of me that has been able to exist outside of Anita, it’s something I treasure, although it’s enourmously sad. I also feel I have soaked up the life that has spilled from her, at times I have a deep love of life. God how good it is to talk to someone who knows nothing about me. How sweet it is to draw down that -5 cold air in the early hours, refreshing me inside. I tend to think that I react to these situations with calm but put me in a normal situation with friends and I can get a better assessement. I know there is some degree of calm but I am too close to know what else is going on, anyway it was an opportunity to spill my guts.
This morning the tube has been removed from her throat. Her breathing isn’t ideal but she is now OK with just an oxygen mask. She still gets upset most of the time, as I sit there with her sister her whole body starts to shake uncontrollably. Her blood pressure heads over 200 for a while, she is cold yet perspiring and looks very pale. She has seen better days.
The speech & language therapist came to assess her swallowing abilities. It’s not strong enough to allow her a drink or yogurt yet. Because of the bank holiday and shortage of staff she is unlikely to get assessed, and therefore any food, at least until next tuesday or wednesday. They will have to put the feeding tube through her nose and into her stomach, an experience that will leave her gagging. Last time around she didn’t get any water for months.
Other people die in these places, yet she lives on. Many people would struggle to get their head around all this. I know it must affect the wonderful staff here, I can see it in their eyes.