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Day: July 13, 2021

The Other Sister

Tuesday 13 July 2021

Papa grew up with six siblings: four sisters and two brothers. The first sibling to go was his youngest brother, who was killed in Vietnam in 1972. I’m named after him but never met him. It was about thirteen years before the next sibling passed, Papa’s older brother, who had cancer and died in the mid-eighties. And then there three and a half decades before another sibling passed, followed by another sibling just a year or two later.

And so now there are three of them: a younger sister, Aunt D, who visited Sunday, and the first-born of the entire group of seven, who visited today. Aunt Y doesn’t get out much, and the last time she was at our house was for Papa’s birthday, probably close to a decade ago. We all used to meet at Aunt D’s house for Thanksgiving, but the last time we did that must have been five or more years ago. The last time all three of them were together was at Nana’s funeral. What a sad thought that that might indeed be the last time the three surviving siblings are together. But I guess that’s the nature of reunions as we all get older.

Night Issues

Tuesday 13 July 2021

Last night just before I went to bed, L said, “I think Papa’s talking to himself again.” There was a certain temptation to just let it go, to hope that it was nothing serious and that he would simply go back to sleep. But I heard his panicked voice and realized that was not to happen.

I went into his room and discovered how far things had fallen apart. He’s pulled out both ends of his cpap tube and then tied the tube into knots around and through the metal pull handle that hangs above his bed. He’d kicked out the pad that keeps the sheet dry from brief leaks. His sheet and blanket were in a wad on the side of the bed,  both wet. His fitted sheet was wet, and his shirt was damp. In short, there was no way he would be able to go back to sleep without a major rescue operation.

Even if he were dry, his mental state was not conducive to sleep. His head was bobbing like mad, and his breathing was heavy and fast, not quite hyperventilating but close.

“Get my phone and call the hospice nurse,” K said. We knew we had to get him calmed down, and done so quickly, but I wasn’t expecting the nurse’s instructions: 5 ml of morphine.

“So we’re already to the morphine,” I thought. And that makes me think that we don’t have much more time with him. Once someone is bedridden and using morphine, the end is not far off.

We got him changed and his bed remade, then gave him the morphine. We were supposed to put it under his tongue, but I had difficulty get Papa to open his mouth let alone raise his tongue. We gave him the med and he calmed quickly. We made it through the night without further incidents, but he’s been sleeping most of the morning today.