An update

It's been awhile since I've talked about My Kid. Figure an update is in order.

Two weeks ago, I got a call from the hospital, wanting some information. I told Julie that it might have to do with the new year, and they're just wanting to make sure her insurance is still up-to-date.

If only it were that.

When I called, they told me they had my brother on the other line, and they were getting what they needed from him. Strange, but I just said "okay", told them if they needed anything else to give me a call and let me know, and left it at that. After all, the nursing home didn't call me to say something's wrong, so I figured everything was all right.

My oldest brother called me later that night and gave me the news: Mum was back in the hospital with another UTI, and a mild case of pneumonia. They had called him to let him know The Kid was out there, she was on antibiotics, the same as usual. She's been through this so many times before, we all know the routine quite well.

They also let him know that the pneumonia was likely due to her aspirating again. See, when she gets the Urinary Tract Infections, she becomes very listless, and moving her around is like trying to move an elephant seal with a spoon; it ain't very easy.

Because she has trouble eating to begin with, they figure she got food into her lungs (they've cleaned out considerable gunk from them, from what I've gathered) and they don't want to feed her because it'll just make matters worse.

She was in the hospital for about a week, getting antibiotics and treatments before they returned her back to the home. Once she got back there...she was still having trouble eating.

She aspirated again.

This has happened before (as long-time readers of this blog well know), and My Kid has been good at bouncing back, usually within a day or so of returning to the home. She didn't, and the speech therapist (a wonderful and patient woman by the name of Kelly) told me that the hospital didn't send along records or anything of the work they did on her there. No information saying some days she could eat with no problem, some days, she couldn't.

The feeding tube option was brought up again. This time, my brothers (who've taken a more proactive role in her well being, since I moved out of state) and I talked via conference call as to what to do. They knew I was against the peg tube - only because that was The Kid's wishes: She didn't want any life-sustaining device.

Since she's not comatose, we decided, this didn't apply. She was weak from hunger (she hadn't eaten anything in nearly a week by this point) and she likely didn't have the strength to want to eat anything. If she got a peg tube, she should be able to regain enough strength to be able to hopefully eat normally again.

I suggested we wait 24 hours. Past experience showed that she usually needed a day to "readjust" to being back in the home after leaving the hospital (and vice versa), so we'd wait and see how she did for dinner that night and breakfast that morning.

I called Kelly back at the nursing home Friday of last week after breakfast to see how she was, and she told me there was no change. She was still choking because, frankly, Mum has forgotten how to swallow and has no strength to even try.

A couple phone calls, a quick discussion with my brothers, and I made the call. We authorized a feeding tube to be inserted in her.

Her doctor at the home couldn't get the surgeon he usually recommends until Tuesday, so she went the whole weekend without food.

As of yesterday afternoon, they inserted the tube in her stomach. By 10 last night, they started giving her nutrients, water and medication through the peg tube. They're hopeful...as am I...that her strength will return, she'll be able to eat again by mouth, and maybe this will help with other problems she has as well. Her skin is very thin...she bruises really easily...and maybe this will help with that.

Julie keeps asking me if I'm all right with this. With being here and my brothers being there, and taking care of things.

For the most part, I am. I knew a moment like this would occur when I made the decision to move and I don't regret that decision for one second, nor would I do things differently. I want to be with Julie, near her, and live this life.

Still, there's a nagging little voice in the back of my head that wonders...if I was there, would she have recovered quicker? Would this be necessary? Would my presence have made a difference, or is that just ego talking? Is this the inevitable end approaching, and my being there or no...would it make a damn bit of difference?

Silent questions I have no...and will never have...answers for.

All I can do is sit back right now and wait. Make phone calls. Let my brothers handle things. (My oldest brother was at the hospital with her yesterday for the surgery...something I've always been the one to do.)

Deep down I also realize that...because I was in control of The Kid's life for so very long, it's not easy just sitting back and doing, basically, nothing. That's the problem and illusion with control. You feel you need to take charge and handle everything and do it all yourself. When changes come, and you're not the one in control anymore, letting go is incredibly hard.

Accepting this is not easy, but it's something I'm learning to do. It's just another difficult lesson, one of so many I've had to learn.

...

She's getting food now, from the tube. When I know more, I'll share.