For My Next Mission

I am a little late in blogging my most recent visit with Kim. At the end of last week, I asked her if we could get together again. Her text messages were coming much less frequently and she told me she could sleep entire days away. This is not a good sign. We used to be able to text message for at least a half an hour. Now, it can take an entire day to get one response. Panic, on my part, was starting to set in.

Of course I asked her if she needed anything. She told me that her robe has cigarette burns in it, and it is getting dingy. She said that it makes her feel ugly. I texted her and said, "one fluffy robe coming up!" I took to the internet as I usually do in these situations to minimize running around to multiple stores. I was having no luck at all with local stores--even the big chains. I thought that maybe if I walked around the stores, I might luck out. Unfortunately, it just wasn't meant to be.

I was saddened a little bit that I could not meet this simple request. I knew I could find them online, but time is of the essence in this situation. I walked around in the departments and realized that they had some very nice pajama sets on sale. I found 5 that I tought she might like and went to the check out. I knew that I was totally going out on a limb. She may not like what I picked out at all.

I got to her house and let myself in with a gentle knock, armed with a shopping bag. She said to me, "you know you can just come over. You don't have to bring stuff every time!". I said, "Kim, if this is what I can do for you, I want to do it." Truthfully, it goes against every fiber of my being to not try to fill a simple request of a dying friend. So I pass up getting a new purse this month...big deal! I don't want my friend sitting in her home, feeling ugly as she dies. That is beyond unacceptable to me.

I showed her what I bought and she loved them! I told her I could not find a robe as she had said she would like, but thought new pajamas might help. They were a smidge too small, so I will have to exchange them, but I certainly don't mind--that is tomorrow's visit.

With how tired she has been recently, I told my husband that I did not expect her to be up for too long of a visit. I got there at about 1:45pm. I hoped to make it until 3:00pm if at all possible. We started talking about the more mundane parts of life. But then she told me she wondered how much morphine she was on compared to a 'normal' person.

Going back to a comparison in a recent post, when I was a nurse on a cardiac floor, patients who came in for chest pain could get 1-2mg of morphine every 2-4 hours for chest pain. She is getting a continuous infusion that totals 360mg in 24 hours. Plus, she can get 15mg every 10 minutes if she needs it. No, that is not a typo. She is still experiencing pain, although, it is controlled for the most part. She asked me if there was a ceiling so to speak for the morphine where she won't be allowed anymore. I told her that in my experience, hospice patients can have as much medication as they need to contol pain. Eventually, the narcotics can supress the drive to breathe, hastening death. However, being conscious and in horrific pain is not an alternative either.

She told me she only has a few more letters to write to people. She was going through the list of names, and she says, "....I have yours done." I said, "mine?". I was frozen for a moment. I could feel my eyes fill up with tears, but I wouldn't let them loose. "Yes," she said, "for after I am gone." It was one of those moments in life where I was truely speechless. I didn't say anything and let her keep talking. Many of the things she wants to get done, she has gotten done. I think that gives her a sense of peace...I could see it on her face.

We eventually moved into the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea. We sat at the kitchen table talking. She handed me two lime green sheets of paper with red handwriting. She told me to read them. I could tell it was a child's handwritting. I can not recall the exact words, but it was from one of her daughters saying that she doesn't want to come and spend time with Kim anymore because it makes her sad to see her sick. There were a bunch of scribbles at the bottom. This is where her daughter stopped and rewrote the letter on the second sheet of paper. Kim said these were left on the table for her to see in the morning.

How crushing.....and yet, on some level understandable. I told Kim that it must be devastating to read, but I asked if she could objectively see how this would be hard for her daughter. She said, yes I can. Kim used to split time with the girls 50/50 with her exhusband. Now, it is down to a day a week. Kim does not have the energy or physical capability to care for the girls the way she wants. The bad days are outweighing the good. The hardest thing for Kim to do is to stay awake. She is exhausted and dying.

It is so unfair the fact that she is dying...and now she has to read letters from one of her children about not coming to see her anymore because it makes her sad. It makes me angry. It makes buying something like pajamas seem so insignificant, but if I can brighten her days in any way...I am going to do it.

I ended up spending time with her until 5:00pm. Two hours beyond what I had thought she would be up for. She said it was a good day. I asked her if I could make one request. I asked if she could let me know when our last visit would be....when that time comes that she feels her time is near. She said yes. I know she may not know, but sometimes people do...I gave her a hug and told her I loved her before I left.

Friday morning she sent me a text message that her nurse turned up her morphine. It is now taking upwords of a day to get a message back from her.

I am sad :(