One Journey After Diabetic Coma

It has obviously been a very difficult two weeks--the hardest of them all, and I suspect it will only get harder, at least initially. We arranged for Linda's cremation, and we have been trying to process that she is no longer here. I know that in past posts I had described how strange it was during the times when Linda was in the hospital, with the caregivers gone, the oxygen concentrator off, and the classical music no longer playing. But we knew that was temporary. It's quite a different kind of quiet when we know it's permanent. I found a 2019 voicemail on my phone that she left me wishing me a happy birthday. I'm grateful to have this message, but it was also difficult hearing her voice from such a different time, when none of us knew what was in store. Many have asked us about a service--in the past, Linda had told us that she didn't want a service (although one can't be certain that she truly meant it). Not to mention that a service is more for those who l

It was both not sudden and sudden at the same time. She fought so damn hard. But this morning, her lungs gave out and we lost her. Yesterday, we thought she actually had been getting better--she was able to eat and interact with us for the first time in several days. It didn't quite rise to the "rally" many say that people have just before death--she was still struggling--it just seemed that she was improving.  But this morning, she was still the same when the caregiver left at 6 a.m., as well as when Ed checked in on her around 6:30. But by 7:15, her breathing had begun to be labored. By just after 8, she was gone. But at the moment she left, we were holding her hands and telling her how much we loved her. Her journey is over--or just begun, depending on what you believe. Thank you so much for all the prayers and support. It has meant more to us, and to her, than you'll ever know.

This UTI, which seemed mild at first, has just gotten worse and worse. Linda has gone from being interactive and talking to being largely unresponsive, all in just a few days. Her hands and arms are starting to swell--one of our caregivers, who is also an RN, says that is often a sign of kidney failure. Today, all she has eaten has been a couple of small bowls of yogurt and some smoothie. She has taken it in with eyes closed as we've fed it to her. Otherwise, she no longer speaks and is too weak to move. For whatever reason, the antibiotics do not seem to be working this time. We will continue to hope, but her condition is not looking good. Thank you so much for keeping Linda in your thoughts. 

On Monday, the very day Linda was discharged from hospice, she tested positive for a urinary tract infection. UTIs can wreak havoc on the elderly, and Linda is no exception. We contacted her primary care doctor, who immediately started her on antibiotics, but she has been lethargic and largely unresponsive for the past three days. She wakes up briefly here and there, just long enough for us to give her medications and a little food (a smoothie and toast, or a cookie), before she goes back to sleep. As her body fights off the UTI, her blood sugar has gotten incredibly high and her breathing has worsened, so we have increased both her insulin and her supplemental oxygen. At the same time, a representative from Pathways, the agency we used for hospice, called today to give me some bad news. With Linda no longer on hospice, my hope had been to transition her to Pathways' palliative care, so we could still have nursing support. We found out last year that their palliative care team didn

Two Fridays ago, the hospice nurse warned me that it was unlikely they would recertify Linda for hospice after this week. On Wednesday, the nurse confirmed it--tomorrow will be her last day on hospice. When this happened last September, we were left a bit scattered, trying to figure out how to manage her care going forward. This time, while it's still unsettling to no longer have the hospice "safety net" of services, we at least have a little more experience to know what we need to put into place. First, once I heard that Linda was likely to be discharged, I checked to see if there was still an opportunity to upgrade her Anthem insurance to a PPO (instead of her current HMO).  The period to switch plans didn't end until March 31st, so I took the opportunity to switch her to a PPO (although it required a two-hour phone call with an insurance broker!). I made this switch because her HMO does not cover palliative care--which came as an unpleasant surprise last September.