Last night I had a scary dream, which I don't even want to recollect but I will:
Scott died. I was at the viewing at Church. There were some people he worked with and my Russian girl-friend from Garmisch. As they were ready to put a lid on his coffin and move him from the room, I noticed something nobody else seemed to notice: Scott folded his arm and tapped on the side of the coffin as to let us know that he isn't dead. I started telling everyone what I just saw, that something is wrong, that they should not take him, but no one seemed to believe me. I was in panic and tried to stop them, and then I woke up.
It was only 4:55 am. My heart was pounding so hard, I was in cold sweat sitting on my bed, terrified. I was so afraid to close my eyes and see the same dream again. But I knew I had to get more sleep if I don't want to end up in that ICU myself.
I really wanted to resist the temptation to take Valium, cause it was scary how quickly I was becoming addicted to it. I lied down, trying to summon happy thoughts and images, when I heard this "BZZZ" coming out of my phone. I reached for it and saw that it's the Skype message from my sister Ksenia: "Ul?"
Now, how in the world did she know to talk to me when I desperately needed someone's comfort. I called her right away and told her of my scary nightmare. She immediately knew how to interpret it in a rather positive way. She even quoted Doctrine and Covenants verse for my comfort. Then we just chatted nonsense until I floated away in my sleep.
She was my little miracle that night. One of so many lately. I so appreciate these windows of heaven opening up here and there at just the right time.
Maybe, this trial should go on a little longer so there would be a part to play for other people in bringing us all closer to each other and to God.
Like my Dad, maybe. I talked to him on Skype last night and of course, I asked him to go to Church and pray for Scott. He said:
"I do! I even went to all the Russian Orthodox and Catholic churches in St. Petersburg."
"Oh, Daddy!" I said, "Why? You just need to go to our Ward in Kolpino and ask our brothers and sisters to pray for Scott. They know him, they love him. It's thanks to him that they are all there. Please, just go to our Branch, so that they can support you as well."
And he did. He started going to Church.
I can't even imagine how many pryers were said on behalf of Scott. People from all over the world were sending me messages about thinking of us and putting Scott's name in Temples in at least 20 different countries. People from Triathlon community were sending well wishes as well.
How can I explain, that even in my crumbling world I felt that angels were literally picking me up and giving me strength to keep on going. Utterly alone and often scared I felt God's love stronger than ever before. Accompanying my husband through this difficult journey I've come close to the vail of our physical existence. I could feel God so strongly and even see his hand.
I realized that that kind of buzz I heard the other night, could be from the hospital, informing me that Scott had passed away. It is interesting that sometimes I thought that I could handle that kind of news after all. Because I knew God was real.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
18. My Lonely Battle
The worst part of sleeping now is waking up. When I open my eyes in the morning I immediately start breathing faster for I quickly remember that we are still in the shadow of death. What a wrong and lonely feeling that is, I cannot even describe it in words! I feel so crushed and yet I have to keep going in faith, since all miracles are preceded by faith first. So, faith and hope are the foundations I am building myself on every morning. Also, of course, charity. Without charity I would not be able to spend 6 hours a day by my husband's side, holding him and praying for him.
I love him, which inevitably leads me to believe in his recovery and hope for better news each day.
It's love that gives me determination to leave Scott at the end of the day with the thermometer showing at least 38 C (100's F). First thing I come in, I demand a bowl of glace (pronounced "glass") which is ice, and lots of cloths. I wipe his legs and arms with icy-cold cloths, the old-fashioned way, I guess, changing them whenever they get warm from his burning body. I go and find medical personnel for every strange beep on Scott's machines. I make those poor nurses who often speak no English give me report explaining to me everything they know. I think they try to avoid me sometimes, but I don't care. I come up to them with a piece of paper and have them write down all the medications Scott is on, so I can research what exactly they are for.
July 30 - Saturday
Vent O2 - 85%, blood O2 - 98%. Yesterday the reading was the same, which really made me happy. Not worse - good news! I could actually eat some lunch during my break.
Donna (a British lady form the Nice Ward, a friend of Karen) picked me up today and we spend together my 3 to 6 break. We just chatted and ate at the Brasserie (French Restaurant). She is ever so understanding, cheerful and optimistic! I need people like that around me to lift up my broken spirit and let me partake of normal life: healthy people, living plants, raging Mediterranean, traffic jams, gelatos (Italian ice-cream)...
I am back at the hospital and continue our battle. Only it does not look like a battle. It's quiet here. I breath in one accord with the breathing machine. What a wonderful time we live in! Just think about it: we are surrounded by so many miracles, like this ventilator, or antibiotics, or CT scans. These amazing machines along with doctor's knowledge and help from God are able to bring my sweetheart back to me. I still plan on that. I love him too much to think otherwise. Even if it takes lonely days without my kiddos, a bunch of gray hair, and a new addiction to Valium. I'll take it and I won't give up. Please, God, heal him!
I love him, which inevitably leads me to believe in his recovery and hope for better news each day.
It's love that gives me determination to leave Scott at the end of the day with the thermometer showing at least 38 C (100's F). First thing I come in, I demand a bowl of glace (pronounced "glass") which is ice, and lots of cloths. I wipe his legs and arms with icy-cold cloths, the old-fashioned way, I guess, changing them whenever they get warm from his burning body. I go and find medical personnel for every strange beep on Scott's machines. I make those poor nurses who often speak no English give me report explaining to me everything they know. I think they try to avoid me sometimes, but I don't care. I come up to them with a piece of paper and have them write down all the medications Scott is on, so I can research what exactly they are for.
July 30 - Saturday
Vent O2 - 85%, blood O2 - 98%. Yesterday the reading was the same, which really made me happy. Not worse - good news! I could actually eat some lunch during my break.
Donna (a British lady form the Nice Ward, a friend of Karen) picked me up today and we spend together my 3 to 6 break. We just chatted and ate at the Brasserie (French Restaurant). She is ever so understanding, cheerful and optimistic! I need people like that around me to lift up my broken spirit and let me partake of normal life: healthy people, living plants, raging Mediterranean, traffic jams, gelatos (Italian ice-cream)...
I am back at the hospital and continue our battle. Only it does not look like a battle. It's quiet here. I breath in one accord with the breathing machine. What a wonderful time we live in! Just think about it: we are surrounded by so many miracles, like this ventilator, or antibiotics, or CT scans. These amazing machines along with doctor's knowledge and help from God are able to bring my sweetheart back to me. I still plan on that. I love him too much to think otherwise. Even if it takes lonely days without my kiddos, a bunch of gray hair, and a new addiction to Valium. I'll take it and I won't give up. Please, God, heal him!
17. Ground Zero
July 25 - Monday
It's that feeling again. It's what I was feeling like exactly 4 weeks ago when Scott just got to the hospital. It's the feeling that caused my knees to tremble, my chest to burn, my stomach to stick to my back, and my back to hunch and curl me up into a knot of despair. We are again at ground zero.
Scott's persistent, resistant infection is back and has mutated into an even stronger creature. In addition, he has a problem with gas exchange in his lungs which initially defines a new case of ARDS. All over again!!! Plus pneumonia. Plus total dependency on a c-pap machine that's turned on to 80%. Blood O2 is 95, amt. of breaths - 28.
Another crisis. What can I say? The fall is hard after I've been reassured by the ICU head doctor (not Dr. Goubauex), who predicted that by the end of this week, we'll be on the way to Germany.
What am I going to tell the kids?! This is so hard! This is beyond my capacity to cope. I am so weak, my body is trembling, I seem to have lost my ability to relax. Even physically exhausting myself by long walks between the visiting hours, I not only stopped eating but sleeping as well.
July 26 - Tuesday
As of this morning Scott is re-intubated and on life support. His ventilator reading is at a horrifying 100%. The lady doctor showed me his bad chest x-ray on the computer. She matter-of-factly stated that there are only 2 other antibiotics left to try for this particular bacteria. And what, if they don't work? Then, most likely, it's - septic shock. To me it sounded like DEATH. I burst in tears and she realized how vulnerable I am to hearing such terrible update. She took me by my shoulders, and made me look her in the eye. In her straightforward English, she said:
"You are too pessimistic! You should not lose hope! We don't! Those are strong antibiotics and they should help! But you must be prepared, it's going to take a long time, and after he is better, he will be very... (she searched for the word in her mind), very ... fragile."
"I don't care, I just want him to live!!!"- I cried out.
She gave me a hug and then she asked me if I can sleep ok.
That day, I was leaving the hospital with a prescription strength anti-depressant. Something I never thought I'd have to take. EVER! But that was my only way to keep my hands from shaking and to help me get some sleep.
So, it's our last big fight. I trust in the Lord to save Scott. Last night, Scott told me how much he wanted to go home.
God is merciful. I will wait on the Lord. I will see His miracles! I will be with Scottie again! In this life.
It's that feeling again. It's what I was feeling like exactly 4 weeks ago when Scott just got to the hospital. It's the feeling that caused my knees to tremble, my chest to burn, my stomach to stick to my back, and my back to hunch and curl me up into a knot of despair. We are again at ground zero.
Scott's persistent, resistant infection is back and has mutated into an even stronger creature. In addition, he has a problem with gas exchange in his lungs which initially defines a new case of ARDS. All over again!!! Plus pneumonia. Plus total dependency on a c-pap machine that's turned on to 80%. Blood O2 is 95, amt. of breaths - 28.
Another crisis. What can I say? The fall is hard after I've been reassured by the ICU head doctor (not Dr. Goubauex), who predicted that by the end of this week, we'll be on the way to Germany.
What am I going to tell the kids?! This is so hard! This is beyond my capacity to cope. I am so weak, my body is trembling, I seem to have lost my ability to relax. Even physically exhausting myself by long walks between the visiting hours, I not only stopped eating but sleeping as well.
July 26 - Tuesday
As of this morning Scott is re-intubated and on life support. His ventilator reading is at a horrifying 100%. The lady doctor showed me his bad chest x-ray on the computer. She matter-of-factly stated that there are only 2 other antibiotics left to try for this particular bacteria. And what, if they don't work? Then, most likely, it's - septic shock. To me it sounded like DEATH. I burst in tears and she realized how vulnerable I am to hearing such terrible update. She took me by my shoulders, and made me look her in the eye. In her straightforward English, she said:
"You are too pessimistic! You should not lose hope! We don't! Those are strong antibiotics and they should help! But you must be prepared, it's going to take a long time, and after he is better, he will be very... (she searched for the word in her mind), very ... fragile."
"I don't care, I just want him to live!!!"- I cried out.
She gave me a hug and then she asked me if I can sleep ok.
That day, I was leaving the hospital with a prescription strength anti-depressant. Something I never thought I'd have to take. EVER! But that was my only way to keep my hands from shaking and to help me get some sleep.
So, it's our last big fight. I trust in the Lord to save Scott. Last night, Scott told me how much he wanted to go home.
God is merciful. I will wait on the Lord. I will see His miracles! I will be with Scottie again! In this life.
16. The Healing Words
While I am panicking and slipping downhill with Scott, I read these words aloud in the ICU room where Scott is laying asleep with his mask on. In the midst of this agony, I feel lucky that I have one more tool to help me fight this battle. This tool are the words of the prophets that spoke with such clarity and profoundness to me personally and to all human beings. These healing words might not be a magic spell that can save one from physical death, but they can rescue our souls from dying. They certainly did so for me.
Ether 12:27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them theiraweakness. I bgive unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my cgrace is sufficient for all men that dhumble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make eweak things become strong unto them.
Ether 12:18 And neither at any time hath any wrought miracles until after their faith; wherefore they first believed in the Son of God.
3 Nephi 21:10 But behold, the life of my servant shall be in my hand; therefore they shall not hurt him, although he shall be a marred because of them. Yet I will heal him, for I will show unto them that bmy wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil.
Psalms 27:14 aWait on the Lord: be of good bcourage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: cwait, I say, on the Lord.
Doctrine and Covenants 58:4 For after much atribulation come the bblessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be ccrowned with much dglory; the hour is not yet, but is nigh at hand.
Psalms 28:7 The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart atrusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.
Ether 12:27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them theiraweakness. I bgive unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my cgrace is sufficient for all men that dhumble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make eweak things become strong unto them.
Ether 12:18 And neither at any time hath any wrought miracles until after their faith; wherefore they first believed in the Son of God.
3 Nephi 21:10 But behold, the life of my servant shall be in my hand; therefore they shall not hurt him, although he shall be a marred because of them. Yet I will heal him, for I will show unto them that bmy wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil.
Psalms 27:14 aWait on the Lord: be of good bcourage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: cwait, I say, on the Lord.
Doctrine and Covenants 58:4 For after much atribulation come the bblessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be ccrowned with much dglory; the hour is not yet, but is nigh at hand.
Psalms 28:7 The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart atrusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.
4 Yea, though I awalk through the bvalley of the cshadow ofddeath, I will fear no eevil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they fcomfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou aanointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely agoodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
I LOVE the Scriptures. They are the best medicine!
15. Slipping Downhill
24 July - Sunday
Scott has improved so much since 4 weeks ago, but there are still issues that make me want to fall apart in hysteria. Today, his blood O2 is 90, number of breaths per minute - 45. His breaths are fast and shallow, which is very exerting for him. Scott does not fight his oxygen mask any more, he understands his life depends on it now.
He looks so good to me and he is completely back cognitively. He is sweet and gentle, like he used to be.
But Dr. Goubaux said that because it's hard for his lungs to do their job, perhaps, they will be obliged (I'm using his exact words) to put him back to sleep and on a ventilator.
I close my face with my hands to take in this news and then I plead with him:
"Please, no, No, NO!!! Don't let that happen! Please!"
6:05 pm - same day
Scottie is sleeping with the C-Pap mask on. It's not invasive, like intubation, but it's forced air, blowing into his face, to help deliver as much O2 to his body as possible. His blood oxygen is good - 98, breaths per min. - 27.
I pray and hope that his lungs will regain their strength without having him go into a medically-induced coma and intubation again. This is when knowing too much is frightening. I've read that reintubation has a mortality rate as high as 80%!!! It's ALWAYS a bad sign and almost certainly the last resort.
Scottie, you can do it! Heavenly Father, YOU can do it for Scott, if he can't on his own! PLEASE!!!
Scott has improved so much since 4 weeks ago, but there are still issues that make me want to fall apart in hysteria. Today, his blood O2 is 90, number of breaths per minute - 45. His breaths are fast and shallow, which is very exerting for him. Scott does not fight his oxygen mask any more, he understands his life depends on it now.
He looks so good to me and he is completely back cognitively. He is sweet and gentle, like he used to be.
But Dr. Goubaux said that because it's hard for his lungs to do their job, perhaps, they will be obliged (I'm using his exact words) to put him back to sleep and on a ventilator.
I close my face with my hands to take in this news and then I plead with him:
"Please, no, No, NO!!! Don't let that happen! Please!"
6:05 pm - same day
Scottie is sleeping with the C-Pap mask on. It's not invasive, like intubation, but it's forced air, blowing into his face, to help deliver as much O2 to his body as possible. His blood oxygen is good - 98, breaths per min. - 27.
I pray and hope that his lungs will regain their strength without having him go into a medically-induced coma and intubation again. This is when knowing too much is frightening. I've read that reintubation has a mortality rate as high as 80%!!! It's ALWAYS a bad sign and almost certainly the last resort.
Scottie, you can do it! Heavenly Father, YOU can do it for Scott, if he can't on his own! PLEASE!!!
14. Alone
24 July - Sunday
I am at Church, or to be exact, by the Church. I'm right outside leaning on the tree, sitting on the grass in front of the Church. I just had to take a nap, or to be precise, I crashed, I was so tired this morning. After going to bed at 2 am and waking up at 7 am I am not very spiritually tined today and my body is exhausted.
Ever since moving to La Maison du Bonheur, my schedule is all messed up. On weekdays I sleep in till 9 in the morning, then shower, get ready, go down to pastry shop to get my croissants, then I go back up to eat breakfast. After that I study scriptures and learn French until noon when it's finally time to go to the hospital. I come home at around 10 pm by which time I get texts asking me about Scott. Since my roaming fees are probably sky high, I save my updates till I get home that has a free wi-fi connection. I eat while people in our apartment finish their day with a good night smoke in a smoking room (which also happens to be a common computer room with one laptop for our use). When they are gone, I break through the smoke and log in to Skype so I can hear and see my kids. We talk forever. We cry, we share good bits of news, we tell jokes and they show me their new sandals. We even say a family prayer on Skype. At around midnight I start typing up the updates and reading my "homework".
I am at Church, or to be exact, by the Church. I'm right outside leaning on the tree, sitting on the grass in front of the Church. I just had to take a nap, or to be precise, I crashed, I was so tired this morning. After going to bed at 2 am and waking up at 7 am I am not very spiritually tined today and my body is exhausted.
Ever since moving to La Maison du Bonheur, my schedule is all messed up. On weekdays I sleep in till 9 in the morning, then shower, get ready, go down to pastry shop to get my croissants, then I go back up to eat breakfast. After that I study scriptures and learn French until noon when it's finally time to go to the hospital. I come home at around 10 pm by which time I get texts asking me about Scott. Since my roaming fees are probably sky high, I save my updates till I get home that has a free wi-fi connection. I eat while people in our apartment finish their day with a good night smoke in a smoking room (which also happens to be a common computer room with one laptop for our use). When they are gone, I break through the smoke and log in to Skype so I can hear and see my kids. We talk forever. We cry, we share good bits of news, we tell jokes and they show me their new sandals. We even say a family prayer on Skype. At around midnight I start typing up the updates and reading my "homework".
You didn't know that half a dozen times I sneaked into the Nurses station and read Scott's medical records (in French!), copied some numbers and names of his medications, no matter how little sense they made to me. Somehow it was reassuring to have as much info as I could get. Because then I would get online and research all I could and hopefully find somebody going through the same thing.
I have never found anyone who went through exactly what Scott did. I can't even start to explain what a horrible feeling it is to dwell on the idea that all earthly elements are against you, that God had forsaken you, and you are completely ALONE. I knew it was not true, but I sure let myself sulk into this self-pity mode from time to time.
Until I found a lady, whose 19-yr old daughter was sick with ARDS and made it! Charlotte has become a source of inspiration and comfort to me. I would panic and go nuts - she would remember her exact feelings, I would be scared - she would give me courage, I would tell her about the numbers on Scott's machines - she would know what I was talking about. It was really nice to have a friend who KNEW what I was going through. This is probably why I am driven to write our experience, so someone in a similar situation can find comfort during their trial and know, that they are never alone.
I tell ya, that second-hand smoke thing is evil. My brain goes numb and does not work as fast as I want it to. I usually finish with updates and e-mails long after 1 am. Then I get ready for bed. My Happy House room facing lively Maleussena street with its drunk singing, train rumbling, motorcycles revving under my window, is about the coziest place at the end of my day where I find peace for my body and soul. I do feel like I'm working 8-hour shifts at the hospital. I feel drained of my life juices at the end of the day, so that's how come Church at 9 am on Sundays has been a challenge. But I haven't missed one Sunday since I got to France!
I know God knows of my circumstances and I feel at peace just being on Church grounds writing this instead of absorbing my Sunday school lesson in French.
I have had an opportunity to say a closing prayer today at the Relief Society. It seemed strange that I was given an opportunity to pray for sisters and their well-being and not just for myself and my needs. It was hard not to switch to pleas for Scott's recovery. While praying there, I felt so much love and gratitude for the Nice Ward. They embraced me from day one. The very first Sunday, I remember, the Sacrament meeting started with the Bishopric member addressing the congregation to please fast and pray for OUR brother Scott Thompson. Whoever said that French people are grumpy and unfriendly was wrong. I felt so much love and support in their midst. When they meet you, they kiss you on your cheeks. And they try hard to speak English. They are lovely, delightful people. I love France!
13. Delirium
July 22 - Friday
Last night's visit was both exhilarating and exhausting. Scott wanted me to pull his mask off and kept asking me about his clothes ("I'm not going to go home naked, am I?"). Then he wanted car keys, so he could drive us home. He was worried about the babies in CDC. "How are we going to pay for CDC?" and "I need to go pick them up!" and "Take off the mask, just do it, take it off, please!" AND "How come you say you love me, and you don't do what I ask. No love from you!"
I would switch his attention to massaging his legs, they seem to be sore and he keeps on wiggling them. I massage, he drifts into sleep, I sit down to read Harry Potter, he starts moving his legs again, asking for more massage. So on it went like this all night through. I stayed late till 9 pm. I finally had to leave to catch my bus. It was super-hard to leave him alone in his partially delirium state. But I did, after a good night kiss and after I found a TV channel with soothing music.
This morning the nurse said he was panicking last night. He tried to pull off the mask and iv's off of him and was getting seriously angry. He is mad at me right now. But I don't know what else to do to make him feel better. I combed his hair, clipped his fingernails and toenails, massaged his legs and shoulders, read to him. Nothing seems to sheer him up. He wants the mask off. He strains to pull it off. He begs to help him. I take it off his face (with the nurse next to me), and his blood O2 immediately falls to 90. The nurse hurries to put it back on him, saying that he needs to relax and breath. Scott is agitated but submits to her will. Later, he tries to pull it off again. I try to convince him that it's vital for him to breath with this oxygen mask.
So, it's a different kind of battle now. His mind is not quite cooperative in the process of his body healing. There is a great deal of confusion, agitation, irritation, frustration now, and not even a glimpse of a smile. Even though I know it's normal, I am still yearning for a tiny smile, maybe as a sign of a little recognition for my efforts to bring him back. But of course, I should not think such a thing. I should be patient and loving and charitable. Like in 1 Corinthians 13:
"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;"
That pretty much keeps me going.
July 23 - Saturday
Scottie is calmer today. His blood Oxygen is around 97, amount of breaths per minute - 36. We want his oxygen to be 100, and number of breaths peers minute - 20. The doctor talked to him earlier and now he seems more comfortable with where he is at. He is taking the news about his health better and not freaking out any more. He even dares to joke about how rich I'd be if he had died. Crazy man! I felt tempted to slap him, but only managed so much as to stroke his face and kiss him on his forehead. No way am I trading you for money, dude! I need you to help me raise the kids and still take me on that cruise we've missed. And how about that last Harry Potter movie you still need to watch with us?! It came out while you were sleeping. Kids and I are faithfully waiting for your return to take us all on a grand family date to Munich English movie theater. So, it's only fair that you come back to us!
Oh, one funny episode this morning. The BBC news on TV were talking about a terrorist attack in Norway. I am like:
"Can you believe it? They got as far as Norway, those stinking terrorists!!"
Scott goes: "Oh, no, no, I did it! Police is after me!"
Soon we had some maintenance guys coming into the ICU area minding their business. Scott carefully picking out of the breathing machine that's blocking the way, his eyes getting big and he mumbles:
"I told you, they came for me, I'm going to jail!"
I calm him down and massage his shoulders reassuring him that "nobody wants to put you in jail, you did not do anything wrong, you are a hero here, everybody loves you, nobody in the hospital is going to let anyone hurt you, you are safe here..."
But I guess, he did blow up something in his coma dreams. I read that those are so vivid that they hunt people later in life, persuading them to believe that they were real life experiences.
Last night's visit was both exhilarating and exhausting. Scott wanted me to pull his mask off and kept asking me about his clothes ("I'm not going to go home naked, am I?"). Then he wanted car keys, so he could drive us home. He was worried about the babies in CDC. "How are we going to pay for CDC?" and "I need to go pick them up!" and "Take off the mask, just do it, take it off, please!" AND "How come you say you love me, and you don't do what I ask. No love from you!"
I would switch his attention to massaging his legs, they seem to be sore and he keeps on wiggling them. I massage, he drifts into sleep, I sit down to read Harry Potter, he starts moving his legs again, asking for more massage. So on it went like this all night through. I stayed late till 9 pm. I finally had to leave to catch my bus. It was super-hard to leave him alone in his partially delirium state. But I did, after a good night kiss and after I found a TV channel with soothing music.
This morning the nurse said he was panicking last night. He tried to pull off the mask and iv's off of him and was getting seriously angry. He is mad at me right now. But I don't know what else to do to make him feel better. I combed his hair, clipped his fingernails and toenails, massaged his legs and shoulders, read to him. Nothing seems to sheer him up. He wants the mask off. He strains to pull it off. He begs to help him. I take it off his face (with the nurse next to me), and his blood O2 immediately falls to 90. The nurse hurries to put it back on him, saying that he needs to relax and breath. Scott is agitated but submits to her will. Later, he tries to pull it off again. I try to convince him that it's vital for him to breath with this oxygen mask.
So, it's a different kind of battle now. His mind is not quite cooperative in the process of his body healing. There is a great deal of confusion, agitation, irritation, frustration now, and not even a glimpse of a smile. Even though I know it's normal, I am still yearning for a tiny smile, maybe as a sign of a little recognition for my efforts to bring him back. But of course, I should not think such a thing. I should be patient and loving and charitable. Like in 1 Corinthians 13:
"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;"
That pretty much keeps me going.
July 23 - Saturday
Scottie is calmer today. His blood Oxygen is around 97, amount of breaths per minute - 36. We want his oxygen to be 100, and number of breaths peers minute - 20. The doctor talked to him earlier and now he seems more comfortable with where he is at. He is taking the news about his health better and not freaking out any more. He even dares to joke about how rich I'd be if he had died. Crazy man! I felt tempted to slap him, but only managed so much as to stroke his face and kiss him on his forehead. No way am I trading you for money, dude! I need you to help me raise the kids and still take me on that cruise we've missed. And how about that last Harry Potter movie you still need to watch with us?! It came out while you were sleeping. Kids and I are faithfully waiting for your return to take us all on a grand family date to Munich English movie theater. So, it's only fair that you come back to us!
Oh, one funny episode this morning. The BBC news on TV were talking about a terrorist attack in Norway. I am like:
"Can you believe it? They got as far as Norway, those stinking terrorists!!"
Scott goes: "Oh, no, no, I did it! Police is after me!"
Soon we had some maintenance guys coming into the ICU area minding their business. Scott carefully picking out of the breathing machine that's blocking the way, his eyes getting big and he mumbles:
"I told you, they came for me, I'm going to jail!"
I calm him down and massage his shoulders reassuring him that "nobody wants to put you in jail, you did not do anything wrong, you are a hero here, everybody loves you, nobody in the hospital is going to let anyone hurt you, you are safe here..."
But I guess, he did blow up something in his coma dreams. I read that those are so vivid that they hunt people later in life, persuading them to believe that they were real life experiences.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
12. Hungry!
21 July - Thursday
Blessed day! The tube is out!!! The ventilator machine has the best data ever on its screen - Patient non ventilé. Scott is awake and watching TV. I go in and kiss him on his face and hold my head against his. I can't stop beaming and telling him how happy I am to have him back. Tears are welling up in my eyes. Scott is telling me something with his weak voice muffled under his oxygen mask. He keeps on talking and I keep on nodding and smiling blissfully.
Delightedly massaging his peeling heels, I babble nonstop, not paying attention to what he's saying (I read that the ICU delirium is normal for patients coming out of coma), but soon understanding that he says he is HUNGRY! All this time he's been asking for food! He begged. He demanded. He commanded to bring him something to eat! I catch a nurse and explain to her: "Mon mari a soif, il manger, eat! (I supplement with appropriate sign language.)
Nurse says, no, not yet, the throat needs to heal after the tube irritating it for so long.
"It's ok, just give me food!" - Scott says.
She points at a bag of intravenous liquid white goo and says, that's your food for now, you can't eat, it's too soon.
He goes: "No, I don't want no bag, I am full of it, give me food!"
I come to the rescue and let the nurse go, taking Scott's fury on myself. He turns away from me. After staring at the nurse's counter with meds and stuff, he says:
"Just give me that candy!"
"What candy, Scottie?"
"That, all wrapped up. Just open it and give me some!"
I start searching the counter too, picking up some individually wrapped needles and bringing them to Scott to show him:
"That ain't candy, honey, all of this is medical stuff, there is no candy here."
He gets even more agitated. He tries to pull himself up and moves his legs and arms. I bring myself close to him and pulling his mask away from his face I hear this:
"Ulya, I'm not kidding, go get me food, or I'll do it myself."
So, basically, I got kicked out of his room to go buy food that he can't even eat yet. He gave me a glare, and I didn't dare to protest. I got my bag and went outside to call my Mom to share my joy with her. Thank you, oh, my Father in Heaven, for my husband is back and he is HUNGRY!!!
Blessed day! The tube is out!!! The ventilator machine has the best data ever on its screen - Patient non ventilé. Scott is awake and watching TV. I go in and kiss him on his face and hold my head against his. I can't stop beaming and telling him how happy I am to have him back. Tears are welling up in my eyes. Scott is telling me something with his weak voice muffled under his oxygen mask. He keeps on talking and I keep on nodding and smiling blissfully.
Delightedly massaging his peeling heels, I babble nonstop, not paying attention to what he's saying (I read that the ICU delirium is normal for patients coming out of coma), but soon understanding that he says he is HUNGRY! All this time he's been asking for food! He begged. He demanded. He commanded to bring him something to eat! I catch a nurse and explain to her: "Mon mari a soif, il manger, eat! (I supplement with appropriate sign language.)
Nurse says, no, not yet, the throat needs to heal after the tube irritating it for so long.
"It's ok, just give me food!" - Scott says.
She points at a bag of intravenous liquid white goo and says, that's your food for now, you can't eat, it's too soon.
He goes: "No, I don't want no bag, I am full of it, give me food!"
I come to the rescue and let the nurse go, taking Scott's fury on myself. He turns away from me. After staring at the nurse's counter with meds and stuff, he says:
"Just give me that candy!"
"What candy, Scottie?"
"That, all wrapped up. Just open it and give me some!"
I start searching the counter too, picking up some individually wrapped needles and bringing them to Scott to show him:
"That ain't candy, honey, all of this is medical stuff, there is no candy here."
He gets even more agitated. He tries to pull himself up and moves his legs and arms. I bring myself close to him and pulling his mask away from his face I hear this:
"Ulya, I'm not kidding, go get me food, or I'll do it myself."
So, basically, I got kicked out of his room to go buy food that he can't even eat yet. He gave me a glare, and I didn't dare to protest. I got my bag and went outside to call my Mom to share my joy with her. Thank you, oh, my Father in Heaven, for my husband is back and he is HUNGRY!!!
11. Even Better
(or so we thought)
19 July - Tuesday
I am sitting next to Scottie after a nice visit with him. He is in and out of sleep.
20 July - Wednesday
Scott was awake again today. Yesterday, Dr.Goubauex did not try to be overly optimistic. He was being a doctor, sober and conservative. He said there is still infection in his lungs. They switched antibiotics, AGAIN. That instantly tied me up in a knot. For some reason, it's that much harder to get bad news after the good ones.
ICU stays are not that predictable. It's an emotional rollercoaster. One day, everything inside you is dying, the next day one hint of a Doctor's optimistic attitude sends you off feeling like celebrating. I could teach a lesson on Patience these days, because, boy, do I know a lot about this virtue? ICU is the best place to practice patience, but I certainly don't recommend it to anyone. It's no fun.
A day before Steven left, came my sister-in-law Jodi. I could hardly believe, that a mother of 4, who had never been outside the U.S., would find time and courage to come all the way to France to support Scott and me. She was a breath of fresh air. Her thousand-watt smile melted cold winter in my soul. I felt loved and strengthened.
I don't know how she did it but Jodi's attitude was amazing. I mean, bearing with me during my neurotic attacks, cоnstantly smiling at me. I hope she was not offended by my rare, forced, and insincere likeness of a smile. She tried so hard to be supportive, and many time I was glad to have her sunny face next to me. But there were also so many times when she asked me if I was OK, and I just wanted to yell at her that "I'M NOT OK!! OK?" Just let me be miserable!!! Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the attempts to take my mind off of my pain, but the truth is I want this pain to work its way through my system. I don't want to stop thinking about Scott. Jodi kept on trying, and I kept on pushing her away (without yelling, of course.) How horrible am I?! It's just that death by lovingkindness does not feel nice to me. What feels nice is to curl up in a corner and cry my eyeballs out.
That was on bad days. On good days we ate doner kebab and even went shopping for clothes! We walked our feet off in Nice, we have become pros of that place. We've figured out public transportation and could freely buy bus tickets in French. Every morning we would run outside to the street market and buy us some fresh peaches or melon for breakfast. There was a mandatory stop at the bakery on the first floor of our Happy House to get some Pain au Chocolat (pastries with ribbons of smooth chocolate inside) and croissants. I taught Jodi all I knew about nutella and croissants, she even let go of her healthy habits to give it a try. For lunch we sometimes walked in an Old Town, chewing mozzarella-tomato-basil sandwich in a foot long crispy baguette. Or I would buy my new favorite French Mediterranean dish, introduced by Karen Lafitte, - pissadiere. Pissadiere is made out of a few rather suspicious ingredients: caramelized onions and anchovies baked on top of a thin pizza crust. I never thought much of anchovies, but in this case they seem to be in the right place adding just enough saltiness. The end result is a perfectly delicious dish or snack, depending on the size you get. I definetely see more anchovies in my future now.
Some especially hot days we took bus 22 all the way down to the Promenade. Оn the way to the beach, we would buy a cup of chilled peaches and berries for 3 euros. Sitting on hot rocks fully dressed and surrounded by naked bodies, we rest our eyes on the turquoise Mediterranean, perspiring, and finding salvation in a fruit cup. It feels a tad bit like vacation: beautiful weather and scenery, no chores, children laughing playing in the waves, couples hugging.... Life is so beautiful and so unfair at the same time! I turn away, close my eyes and doze off into my neverland, where careless laughter belongs to my children.
The head doctor of the ICU told us that Scott is over his ARDS, that his numbers look great, that tomorrow the breathing tube will come out and that the only problem left now is a sinus infection. A sinus infection?! Seriously? We were laughing with Jodi and Karen at how Scott's deadly disease came down to a mere sinus infection. Can that be true?
Exactly one week after she arrived, Jodi flew back home. Her company was extremely necessary for my sanity and physical well-being. With her, I felt that life was getting back to normal minus occasional turbulent days. I am thankful for Jodi's time, love, and positive energy.
So, by then, Scott's general evolution showed considerable improvement and the docs were getting in touch with the medical personnel in Germany for the upcoming transfer.
When Karen picked Jodi up to take her to the airport, I was sure that I'd be soon coming home as well.
19 July - Tuesday
I am sitting next to Scottie after a nice visit with him. He is in and out of sleep.
20 July - Wednesday
Scott was awake again today. Yesterday, Dr.Goubauex did not try to be overly optimistic. He was being a doctor, sober and conservative. He said there is still infection in his lungs. They switched antibiotics, AGAIN. That instantly tied me up in a knot. For some reason, it's that much harder to get bad news after the good ones.
ICU stays are not that predictable. It's an emotional rollercoaster. One day, everything inside you is dying, the next day one hint of a Doctor's optimistic attitude sends you off feeling like celebrating. I could teach a lesson on Patience these days, because, boy, do I know a lot about this virtue? ICU is the best place to practice patience, but I certainly don't recommend it to anyone. It's no fun.
A day before Steven left, came my sister-in-law Jodi. I could hardly believe, that a mother of 4, who had never been outside the U.S., would find time and courage to come all the way to France to support Scott and me. She was a breath of fresh air. Her thousand-watt smile melted cold winter in my soul. I felt loved and strengthened.
I don't know how she did it but Jodi's attitude was amazing. I mean, bearing with me during my neurotic attacks, cоnstantly smiling at me. I hope she was not offended by my rare, forced, and insincere likeness of a smile. She tried so hard to be supportive, and many time I was glad to have her sunny face next to me. But there were also so many times when she asked me if I was OK, and I just wanted to yell at her that "I'M NOT OK!! OK?" Just let me be miserable!!! Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the attempts to take my mind off of my pain, but the truth is I want this pain to work its way through my system. I don't want to stop thinking about Scott. Jodi kept on trying, and I kept on pushing her away (without yelling, of course.) How horrible am I?! It's just that death by lovingkindness does not feel nice to me. What feels nice is to curl up in a corner and cry my eyeballs out.
That was on bad days. On good days we ate doner kebab and even went shopping for clothes! We walked our feet off in Nice, we have become pros of that place. We've figured out public transportation and could freely buy bus tickets in French. Every morning we would run outside to the street market and buy us some fresh peaches or melon for breakfast. There was a mandatory stop at the bakery on the first floor of our Happy House to get some Pain au Chocolat (pastries with ribbons of smooth chocolate inside) and croissants. I taught Jodi all I knew about nutella and croissants, she even let go of her healthy habits to give it a try. For lunch we sometimes walked in an Old Town, chewing mozzarella-tomato-basil sandwich in a foot long crispy baguette. Or I would buy my new favorite French Mediterranean dish, introduced by Karen Lafitte, - pissadiere. Pissadiere is made out of a few rather suspicious ingredients: caramelized onions and anchovies baked on top of a thin pizza crust. I never thought much of anchovies, but in this case they seem to be in the right place adding just enough saltiness. The end result is a perfectly delicious dish or snack, depending on the size you get. I definetely see more anchovies in my future now.
Some especially hot days we took bus 22 all the way down to the Promenade. Оn the way to the beach, we would buy a cup of chilled peaches and berries for 3 euros. Sitting on hot rocks fully dressed and surrounded by naked bodies, we rest our eyes on the turquoise Mediterranean, perspiring, and finding salvation in a fruit cup. It feels a tad bit like vacation: beautiful weather and scenery, no chores, children laughing playing in the waves, couples hugging.... Life is so beautiful and so unfair at the same time! I turn away, close my eyes and doze off into my neverland, where careless laughter belongs to my children.
The head doctor of the ICU told us that Scott is over his ARDS, that his numbers look great, that tomorrow the breathing tube will come out and that the only problem left now is a sinus infection. A sinus infection?! Seriously? We were laughing with Jodi and Karen at how Scott's deadly disease came down to a mere sinus infection. Can that be true?
Exactly one week after she arrived, Jodi flew back home. Her company was extremely necessary for my sanity and physical well-being. With her, I felt that life was getting back to normal minus occasional turbulent days. I am thankful for Jodi's time, love, and positive energy.
So, by then, Scott's general evolution showed considerable improvement and the docs were getting in touch with the medical personnel in Germany for the upcoming transfer.
When Karen picked Jodi up to take her to the airport, I was sure that I'd be soon coming home as well.
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