It seems all I'm writing about these days are doom and gloom reports. Sigh!
That isn't why I started this blog. It's really hard to find hope in hopelessness. No I'm not depressed, just battle weary just like my hubby. A tiny pin light shines in the distance of life ever after while maintaining a toe hold to our current life. But daily life goes on. The beds still need changing. The clothes still need to be folded. Dishes done. Animals cared for. Cooking of meals must be prepared for. Etc, etc, etc.
It started this afternoon just before the hospice nurse visited. The nagging cough that my hubby has been experiencing changed. He's on Tussin to help him bring up the junk in his lungs. He can no longer cough hard enough to bring it up on his own.
His sputum went from milky to green and I knew he was in pneumonia again instead of just congestion. Then he brought up blood. Just a little from a broken vessel in his throat. No, I didn't panic but he did. I know the difference in the blood brought up. Calming him down and fixing him a warm drink, we sat and waited for the "official" word. We've been here too many times before.
The nurse came and ordered an antibiotic for him. There just isn't anything else to do. He already has oxygen, inhalants, and breathing treatments that he does several times a day. So now we sit and wait through another crisis. What a difference twelve hours makes. Last night he was congested with wheezing in the upper left quadrant of his lung to today with crackling and gurgling in the base. Definitely more fluid there.
It gets very frustrating at times. It's at times like this my GITG (Give It To God) box reaches the overflow point. Others ask me how I can remain so calm and matter of fact about it all. That's how. I do what is necessary but don't buy into the worry about it category. The fact is I don't want to have to deal with it. Worry doesn't change facts and rarely change outcomes. I realize this and accept it. It's not that I don't care because believe me, I do.
Of course, I did take my frustrations out on a poor can of vegetarian baked beans tonight. I tried to open it with my electric can opener and it refused to balance against the blade. Instead of cutting a nice clean cut it gapped and pulled away from the blade. I snatched it from the can opener and threw it across the kitchen. I walked across the kitchen and threw it back the other way. Of course the gapped cut lid spewed tomato sauce across the floor as it flew. I looked at my handiwork and realized how stupid I was. Now I had to clean it up. Believe me, I'm not immuned to good, ol' temper tantrums.
After the clean up, I got another can of beans and fixed the hot dog my husband wanted. Three bites and he was done. It took almost an hour for him to eat those three bites. He cracked a tooth over the weekend which adds to my stress. I can't take him to the dentist. So he is eating ever more slower. While I make a point of eating meals with him, it takes him forever. It also takes me an hour to was what few dishes I use for a meal.
Thanks for reading.