mezzanineview (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mezzanineview) wrote2010-02-22 08:44 pm
mezzanineview) wrote2010-02-22 08:44 pm
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I went with Paul to see him this morning, and even though medicine is the field I've elected, it really doesn't make stuff like this any less unpleasant. It looked like he'd had all the blood in his body rung out of him, he was that pale, except on his arms. You know the way your nail looks after you slam it in the door, with the dark pools underneath? That's how his arms were, and yellowed with bruises cuz he fell down, Paul says. He's got spots of skin cancer, has had for years, so the effect was rather compounded.
Breaking it into tiny details like this makes it easier to compartmentalize, but it's better than...well, I don't know, really. Every other time I've had a death in the family, I was conveniently too young or able to edge my way out of contact, but I actually chose to go visit him. For all it did, really, because dementia is setting in real bad. He recognized me, but had no concept of the length of time we were there, nor that he was sick at all. He told Paul repeatedly that he felt fine and that he could drive home and rest there.
(he couldn't lift a coffee cup, much less get up to go to the bathroom or drive himself home. he doesn't remember the ambulance ride)
So diagnosis doesn't look very good. It was a mild heart attack, but he's got an infection of some kind that's shutting down his kidneys, and besides that he picked up a contagious staph infection. He's been moved to a clean room to deal with it, but I've seen papers in Paul's folders with signed Do Not Resuscitate dated in 2002 and I really don't know what to feel right now.
So I've got tea and a mood to fix some things, personal failings to other people and cynicism I should have left by the wayside a long time ago. Wood from burnt bridges doesn't hold up well, but I've got no other materials to work with.
Breaking it into tiny details like this makes it easier to compartmentalize, but it's better than...well, I don't know, really. Every other time I've had a death in the family, I was conveniently too young or able to edge my way out of contact, but I actually chose to go visit him. For all it did, really, because dementia is setting in real bad. He recognized me, but had no concept of the length of time we were there, nor that he was sick at all. He told Paul repeatedly that he felt fine and that he could drive home and rest there.
(he couldn't lift a coffee cup, much less get up to go to the bathroom or drive himself home. he doesn't remember the ambulance ride)
So diagnosis doesn't look very good. It was a mild heart attack, but he's got an infection of some kind that's shutting down his kidneys, and besides that he picked up a contagious staph infection. He's been moved to a clean room to deal with it, but I've seen papers in Paul's folders with signed Do Not Resuscitate dated in 2002 and I really don't know what to feel right now.
So I've got tea and a mood to fix some things, personal failings to other people and cynicism I should have left by the wayside a long time ago. Wood from burnt bridges doesn't hold up well, but I've got no other materials to work with.