A journal of healing

Posts tagged ‘sensitivity’

Fearless….again

  I am reblogging one of my own posts that someone recently sent back to me to remind me of my own words. I am struggling with so much lately. My health is not great as it seems that the PsA has done a lot of damage to my kidneys and guts. This past three years and especially this winter, was particularly bad for me. But, as the doctor said on  this past Friday, well at least it did not decline anymore according to my recent labs. As I sat in the garden this morning, I searched for words to console me. Then, in an attempt to clean up my email, I came across this:

Fearless

Posted on June 4, 2013

Once you step free from the limiting, linear straight jacket that narrowed the understanding of the vastness of your consciousness, everything seems to fall into place, (because it was always exactly as it was intended to be anyway, you just didn’t see it that way). There will be nothing to worry about, and no sadness to embrace; at the very least, you will be much less inclined to engage in that sort of thinking. – Rising Hawk

These words written by my friend are the key to living longer and happier. It is not the first time I have read or heard similar messages, but sometimes you can look at something and feel nothing. Other times it pulls you by the collar and slaps you soundly. This is how this hit me.

To release control, to allow your life to happen…such basic concepts and yet, not easily done for people who are frightened. I paused as I wrote the word frightened because it is word that evokes pity or distain, but it is the word I choose but not my intent. I have to advocate for those who are in or come from surroundings that to the outsider seem safe or harmless. These souls present to the world a false bravado while under their skins pulses the sense of fear. It is the walk of many, including me.

I am one who struggles daily with fear of what might be construed as silly to some. But that is what this is all about. Fear is as individual as the person containing it. I fight mightily to allow the control of my life to flow without my choking grip on it. It was making me sick and my body was tired from holding on so tight. For those who may seek some comfort in my writing, it is possibly to let go even if it is an inch at a time. Each forward release allows for more room to breathe and the body to function as it should.

How does one get to be enclosed in a box? It comes from so many sources. It is life. For some people, much like me, it comes from a dysfunctional and abusive life. I was sitting in a car this weekend listening to a school psychologist talking to another friend about children she has helped whose parents were abusive alcoholics. I sat and listened while my friend was so amazed and horrified with the stories as if they were just that, fiction. I wanted to chime in and share my personal story, but instead sat back and just listened. It was difficult and I actually felt some anger as the two of them talked about the children as statistical information.  I also felt some relief to know that this is not WHAT I am as this person in the car, but only my story. I had a sense of relief if nothing else.

I see and hear every day the barrage of negativity thrust upon us daily to keep us reigned in. We see and hear all the things we need to buy or obtain in order to be something that sadly we are lacking. It takes a strong will to turn away and not succumb to the temptation to secure a better car, house, body, clothes, and on and on. We force this standardization on our children to make them fit in and behave in an approved manner. Why is that we allow this fear and perpetuate this environment of control? This is a question that has been around forever. See the Allegory of the Cave by Socrates. We have survived as pack animals.

“No sadness to embrace…” I held those words in my thoughts all night. Embrace; what a strange concept to think we enjoy sadness. But we do. We love drama. We pay to see actors portraying life struggles because we can empathize and feel  our own sadness as a bonding emotion. Pathos. It what drama is all about. I have friends whose whole life is based on a miniseries of dramas. It is food for their lives. I am not exempt from this either and that is why those words struck me. I work in an environment where the drama level is fed daily. Most is simple confusion of an unorganized work flow. But they have been this way forever and I realize it is a culture that is embraced. They live for the confusion because it is an opportunity to emote and wring hands. They bond with each other in their complaining and strife. I see the same culture in my in-laws. They are passionate about the anguish produced from the simplest situation. It produces a slew of emails and phone calls until the event is secured or past. Then it stirs up the discussion and critic of the players involved, which is often another go around of scorn.

But the sadness I am referring to is the self-inflicted kind which I am truly guilty of. I have seen pictures of me where the sadness is evident in my eyes. People have commented on it as I do not hide my feelings well. NO, in truth, they cloak me like a neon sign. I have become aware of the origin of my sadness and I know in my head, that I cannot change what has happened. This is where I have come to the fork in the road so to speak. I can choose to “not engage in that sort of thinking…”

Can it be that simple? This is one of the life lessons that does not come with great directions on how to do something. I read, listen, and participate in learning as much as any seeker does. Is this not what we all really want, to not be sad and to be free from control? I figured out that no, actually not everyone does want that and will take you with them down the hole if you allow. And then there are some who see a secure and happy person and will go to great lengths to sap the life out of them. They are like a mosquito sucking the life blood of other’s because it is easier than obtaining it on their own. It takes great strength to disallow these creatures their feast. Our own minds can be a foe and a little fear can spiral out to become a monster of our own making. Fear is a companion that has been with me a long time. I am not going to sever the relationship overnight, but to travel on I must begin. This will be a long climb but one I must make……. alone.

Induced Depression

falls rainbow

Last night we watched a couple of movies, like we do every Saturday night through the “can’t sit outside” time of the year. I rent all kinds of movies. Some are surprisingly good and some are so bad, you feel like you have been slapped when they are over. I rarely buy into what the Academy has touted as the best of the best. My favorites are usually love stories that end well, or animated. Anything from Pixar is a winner in my books.

But the choices seem to have narrowed. I try not to rent very violent movies. The violence stays with me for days. Any movie that has animals dying is not good and especially if it is a dog.

This post is not really movie critique but a commentary on what we are doing to ourselves. Depression is contagious. Being sad is not a good place to be. But we have surrounded ourselves with a world of death and mayhem and turmoil. We call it entertainment. What are we exposing our children to?

I no longer watch TV. Not at all. I was too disturbed by it. Funny, because that was what I did for a living and that is what I taught. But it to me is no longer entertainment. It is abusive. It sets up a world of comparison that no one can live up to. And the last thing I want to watch is people struggling and call it entertainment. I believe it desensitizes people so they are no longer shocked or empathetic. It is just someone else’s problem. Much like how images of war are no longer considered disturbing.

But I do love the escape of a good movie. I can see the art in the scenes and the pathos of a good story. I still watch for technical merit as well as looking for the quality of the finished movie.  I also love a good laugh. Best movie I have seen for a really good laugh is BFG (BIG Friendly Giant). Any movie that has a fart in it is big with me.

Last night’s choice was Manchester by the Sea followed by Beauty and the Beast. OMG, I had horrible dreams all night and feel like I was run over. Manchester has to be one of the saddest and most tragic movies out there, but I do not mean that in a good way. The hopelessness and chronic depression the main character goes through was not entertaining. It was just tragic. The story was about life and was very real in its depiction, I will give it that. But if I had known what I was going to be getting myself into viewing this, I would have not.

But the real offense was the second movie we rented; Beauty and the Beast. This was not an animated movie although there was tons of CG and special effects; it was live actors. I will say this, it was beautiful. The scenery, back grounds, dresses and sets were amazing. But it was extremely violent and filled with animals being killed. It missed the boat as far as we were concerned. But the violence was over the top and I would never let a child see that movie. The voice over did not match the mouths and it was choppy and erratically edited. It was a disappointment and again, just violent.

Even something like Pet Stories was violent. Why?

People might say that all fairy tales are violent. True as that is, they are only as violent as the reader and/or listener can conjure up in their head. When we put the stories to film, we are subjected to the movie maker’s concepts of violence.

Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, we had a different selection of entertainment than we have now. TV was not violent or sexual at all. It was entertainment. Some of the first movies I did see as a child were musicals. They were happy and bright. The first real exposure I had to a violent movie was Clockwork Orange and to this day I still hate it.

What are we doing to ourselves as a society? We know that negative bias is a real thing. Biologically, we are designed to accept negative input more so than positive. https://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/200306/our-brains-negative-bias.

Is it just me who feels a sense of loss from such constant negative bombardment? Am I just being overly sensitive? (see past blog) This is my opinion: I think truly that the media output is by design meant to create a society that can be controlled and manipulated into accepting darkness as way of being. The results are demonstrated in the amount of bullying and just nastiness we see in our lives from our adult relationships  and the behavior of our children. I don’t find it acceptable.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

4- 2016 garden   It’s the most wonderful time of the year for me. I love the Yule/Christmas season for its beauty. I love the crisp air and color of early fall. But my heart longs for early spring right into June. It is definitely my favorite time.

street in park    Right now the garden is still shrouded in snow and mud. There are sticks and debris and a plethora of doggie deposits. But last night, after work when I got home, I sat outside and could smell the harbingers of spring in the air. It is very hard to describe the smell. It is part sweet, mixed with earth and in my yard a bit of dog. It is the sweet that is the noticeable change.

spring ice

Even though we get notoriously serious storms in March, the weather slowly improves. I actually love a good snow storm if I don’t have to drive. I decided this year I would not put myself in a dangerous situation and call off. We have not had a storm yet that I have had to do that. Matter of fact it has been very mild.

Louie 1  There was a cardinal sitting in my honeysuckle. I have them all year but they hang out when the weather changes. But in the distance, I could hear another bird singing. I think it may have been a robin. This morning there is a cacophony of birdsong. It is no longer so quiet that you can actually hear snow fall.

dove nest  My already elevated spirit was treated this morning to the best surprise of all. The doves are back. We had sat out last night and just talked about how beat up the nest was and that we were wondering if they would be back. This morning, when I let the dogs out, she flew right by me from the old nest.

Dot and Dudley   It had been “spruced up”.. I was elated. We had several baby chicks born in that nest last year. I felt very protective.

CHUCK     I think it is time to put away the outside Christmas decorations and put up what my hubby refers to as the birthing centers. We have a bunch of bird houses that we put out and every year. We have a chick-a dee family that comes and has a family. We call them Chuck and Rita.

vhuck1 Last summer I bought a new big house to put out to see what I could entice. The rent is cheap and there are diners everywhere in the yard. (I have several bird/SQUIRREL feeders)

squirrel 2

I will spend as much of the day outside as I can. It amazes me how I connect with the change. I feel like there are possibilities and fortuitous changes on the horizon. The bleakness of winter will return for a while, but soon, the days will be warm and my garden will be alive again.

 praying bunny

 

Suck it up, Buttercup

cookie 5-16

There is a t-shirt that’s says “I would rather spend time with my dog than other people.” This is my new motto. I never realized how much even being around other people really has become an unpleasant experience for me. I wrote last week that I was called hyper-sensitive and be that as it may, the interactions going on in the world has had an big effect on me. What I see are angry, scared people whose safety is being threatened. And when people do not feel safe, they become nasty.

My biggest issue is my Pollyanna dream that people play nice in the sandbox. They don’t. Since I was very young, I was always the sunshine child who loved everyone. When people are mean or rude to me, I have a very horrible reaction. I go to this place of utter despondence and shut down. In short order, it manifests somewhere in my body. It is like I punish myself for people being nasty. In truth, I do take on their bad behavior as if I am the cause. I know in my head I am not, but then I perseverate on things so much that I do take it on and fault myself. Big or small issue, they all have the same effect.

Things at my job are very disturbing. The in-fighting, back stabbing and general nastiness seems heightened. We have had a handful of people just up and quit in the past two weeks. Our financial situation is terrible. We have not done the official year end close but somehow, even with all the work and the 21 people who were let go, we managed to lose more money this year than last. People are tired and discouraged.

Two of my employees had an actual screaming match in the middle of the hallway with a class and other people around. The tension has been building between the two for over a month. This is the second incident of this type of display. I finally had to call them in for mediation. One of them turned their inability to get along to be my doing. It became to her about race. The other woman is white, so am I, and she is African. (Truly African from Uganda) It is the farthest thing in my mind of what was going on, but to her it was very real. She is also Muslim and I think the temperament of the USA towards Muslims is frightening her, and rightly so. But to cast that pall on me was unfair and unjust. In the private conversations I had with her afterwards, I came to realize that her feelings for me were not what I thought at all. I am very disappointed in what was a splendid working relationship now turning into a vengeful one on her doing.

Even my home life has been affected by the tensions of the world. My husband believes in the new government. I do not. We no longer can have a civil conversation about events that truly are not either of our doing. Simply discussions lead downward in short order. I am disappointed in him but realize that he has the right to think what he chooses. Even though I think he is a chowder-head.

We watched a great movie last night about the right of speech and the freedom to say what you want. It was called “Denial.” It is based on a true story where this historian states emphatically that the Holocaust was not about the extermination of the Jews. He states that the Nazis never killed them and that the gas chambers did not exist. In the movie, he sues a Professor who slanders him supposedly for in his inaccuracies. The case is fought in the British courts. I refer to this movie in the sense that people can say whatever they think. They did not bring in actual survivors of the Holocaust, even though they were there in the courtroom during the trial. They did not want this crack pot to have a chance to afflict his lunacy on them. I thought, even though it would have been easier and more emotional, the good guys showed empathy for them. It was very unusual. I won’t ruin the movie, but it demonstrated how the world can be turned upside down with the use of just words. And history had demonstrated that.

So for now, I spend as much time as I can alone. I prefer my beasties who care not for the current regime in office either…unless he had a piece of cheese in his hand. Then all bets are off.

Browny

 

I actually had some trepidation about posting this…..

Trauma informed

little girl

I have spent a great deal in the past months seeing a variety of doctors for various reasons. At every visit, every time, the patient care-tech brings me back to the visiting room to wait for the doctor. It is their responsibility to weigh, check blood pressure and ask a few questions. One of those questions is the medical community’s answer to being trauma informed. It misses by a huge mark.

Being trauma informed simply means being sensitive to a patient’s history or the possibility of the patient being in a dangerous living situation. We are talking domestic violence, and all forms of abuse: mental, physical and sexual at any age. Being a trauma informed  means everyone on your team from the receptionist to the doctor is sensitive to how they treat a patient. Some may say this is over the top but the concept is very important to the true wellness of all patients.

For example, the patient who keeps coming back with bruises or injuries from falls. Very suspicious if the patient is only forty. Maybe not so for someone who is eighty. But in the case of the eighty year old, she or he may have a care giver who has been frustrated in having to provide care and pushes them to make them move faster, or hits them when they spill things. And the patient is not going to do anything about it because the next step is being forced into a nursing home. They are living in an abusive home and are trapped. They certainly are not going to be forth coming about it.

Patients who have experienced domestic violence of any form will react differently to the way someone approaches their safety bubble. What I mean by this is that everyone has a comfort zone for how close people can get and how comfortable they are being touched. Some people are huggers and touchers and love to get close to anyone, including a stranger. People who have been abused have much larger safety zones and very often do not want to be touched. This not wanting to be touched can range from the patient being able to tolerate it by disassociation or the patient who has a panic attack at the mere thought of having to be touched, which often leads them to not go to the doctor when they really need to.

It an attempt to becoming trauma informed, our local medical center has all providers asking about the safety of their patients? It is a useless attempt to meet a standard. First of all, it is not the doctor who asks this question. It is the care-tech, the gum chewing little twenty-something who is trying to beat a record of some kind by seeing how fast she can get patients in the rooms ready for the doctor. They change regularly and even so, I doubt highly any patient who is in a domestic violence situation is going to open up to that individual as if they are going to be able to do anything. AND… it is none of their business. The lack of sensitivity to the situation of an actual abuse situation is very typical. Unless there has been some form of specific training done with people who are asking that question, simply asking the question almost makes it worse. What are they going to do if a patient says, “no I am not safe. My husband routinely comes home drunk and beats the shit out of me and then rapes me.” The response to that can make or break the patient. The care-tech’s only course of action would be to type ABUSED into the chart. That works!

I would love to know how asking this question, “do you feel safe in your living environment” is the proper opening for a patient to disclose something so humiliating and degrading as being abused. And how many providers are even trained to handle the situation past the physical? Do they know who in the community is providing help for domestic violence? But the bottom line, most patients will not jeopardize themselves by spilling the beans about their crappy home life in a brief visit to a doctor, especially if there is not a relationship built over time with that doctor.

But being trauma informed goes beyond asking that inane question. It is things like how the patient is treated by everyone; from the rushed handling of the care-tech to the actual doctor. Patients who are victims of abuse will react from the way they are placed in a room and then left abruptly to wait for an extended period for the doctor. Letting the patients know if the doctor is running late, or checking in on the patient to see if they are ok would go much further to calm a nervous person. Having the doctor explain what and why they are going to do something BEFORE doing it will help also. Even the simple act of having them listen to the heart can be traumatic. Some doctors will do it over clothes, some doctors reach right in without warning for skin contact. Sometimes there may be a need to hold the patients head while examining their throat for example. This simple act can terrify someone who has had their head restrained in an abusive act such as forced oral sex. Lying down on an examining table makes anyone vulnerable, but for an abused patient, it is excruciating.

For some patients, the act of disrobing will send them back to a place of past abuse. These patients need a sense of safety which throwing them into a sterile, brightly lit room and demanding they disrobe behind a flimsy curtain does not provide. Then they have to sit in anticipation of being probed on a ridiculous scary examining table sitting in the middle of the room as if they were a piece of meat shivering in a paper gown. Would it be so absolutely terrible to provide a soft blanket to comfort and to also help with limiting the exposure while being examined? Something that simple is being trauma informed.

The patient is brought back to the exam room and sat down after being weighed. For some, being weighed is very traumatic. I know that doctors need the vitals but unless you are suspicious of your patients and do not trust them, can you not simply ask them what they weigh? Or make it part of the exam in private and not in a hallway where everyone is walking by. The scale calculates and the care-tech yells out the reading like everyone needs to know….and you still have your boots on. I skip it and refuse. Unless I am there for weight related issues, I know what I weigh and I will tell the doctor if they ask.

Health care workers are highly trained. But in the area of trauma informed, there is much to learn. This study goes hand in hand with a comprehension of the ACE study, which identified the link of abuse to chronic illnesses. I have asked all the doctors who I see if they are aware of the ACE study, and none of them are. I am going to leave a couple of articles for them to read. (see below) We need to work on this information being disseminated and so if you found this helpful, read and print these out and give them to your doctors.

Ace study: http://www.ajpmonline.org/article/S0749-3797%2898%2900017-8/fulltext

PDF of journal article: http://www.ajpmonline.org/article/S0749-3797(98)00017-8/pdf

https://acestoohigh.com/2017/01/05/dear-doctor-a-letter-from-a-survivor-of-sexual-trauma-to-all-medical-professionals/

https://acestoohigh.com/2016/08/10/childhood-trauma-leads-to-lifelong-chronic-illness-so-why-isnt-the-medical-community-helping-patients/

 

 

 

In hot water

fogfalls   This sound really egotistical and it is not what my intent is. I am sincerely amazed how intuitive I can be. It is not always a great thing but it has kept me alive. This may seem like a small issue to some, but what happened this last week tells me it is important enough to share. Maybe someone else is like this and does not realize it. I am talking about stress and what it does to you.

About a month ago, I had my heating system annual tune up and cleaning. The guy who came to the house was very nice. The same week, my mother-in-law was in the hospital dying. The day he came, we were all supposed to meet at the hospital to talk about a care plan. I wanted the guy to hurry up and finish. I went to check on him and he starts telling me my system needs to be drained down and a new valve needed to be installed; the same valve that was replaced two years ago. Every time they come out, they find something wrong with the system. When we turned the heat on, it dripped two drops. He said he was going to adjust the pressure and some other things and then forty minutes later he left. They would call me to set up an appointment for the next work.

As the weeks went past, there was nary a drip. The system is a gas fired boiler that circulates hot water throughout the house. The heat is not drying as force air and is very cost efficient. And boilers last for decades. The parts that support the system do not. Since I have been here fifteen years, I understand that things need to be updated. The system is very quiet except for an occasional tick of the baseboards.

What was happening when the system kicked on was this rush of water coming into the system that sounded awful. It was very loud in the kitchen and the first time it happened it scared the crap out of me. I thought we sprung a huge leak. I went downstairs and all was well. We were not home a lot the next weeks and the weather was warm so it did not happen too often.

But every time it did, I would tense up so bad. Stories ran through my head of imminent disaster. It was amazing how loud the rushing water sounded. I thought that maybe he put the pressure down and that eventually the water would stop doing it. But it didn’t.

But my body flared. The intense reaction was so visceral. My home was in danger. I love my house. It is my safe place. I was not sleeping and a lot of other things were happening in my body. My morning glucose readings were very high. On top of the boiler, the garage door opening system broke and needed repair. I discovered that on Tuesday of last week when I came home and the safety eye was laying on the floor. The door does not close without it facing the other eye.  Then on Wednesday, the ice maker crapped out.

Luck was totally in my corner. The door people had an opening on Friday and could come out to fix it and tune up the opener. My husband was off and home. Perfect. He knew I was upset about the ice maker so he called someone and they could come on Friday too. We also had scheduled a tune up for my car on Friday, which was supposed to be no big deal. But you know how that goes.

I was so freaking frazzled that by the end of the week, my body literally was on fire and I had a diverticulitis attack. I was not sleeping and my hands and hips and back were flaring so much I could hardly walk. I went to work in the morning, after dropping my car off with the intent of picking it up and being home when the icemaker dude was coming. Since I was going to be home, I called the heating people and after a run around, they were going to send someone out as well in the afternoon.

The heating chap was a rather nice young man and he listened to what was going on. I told him the story of the valve and he of course was thinking his fellow worker was correct. But he heard the rushing of the water and looked at the gauges and said there was not enough water in the system and that was a big issue. He wanted to at first drain the system by going all over the house and opening up things… and I thought I was going to be sick. Then he put some water into the system and he thought the gauge was broken. He drained some water with a hose he had and a bunch of other things. He had so many scenarios of what was wrong and he tried many things. Nothing was wrong with the gauges. There just was not enough water in the system. He filled it back up and then went out to his truck and called the guy or the office. I went into the other room. He came back in still on the phone for a while. Finally, he called for me. He looked funny.

Seems I was absolutely right. The guy before drained water out of the system and reset the gauges improperly. The poor boiler was trying to operate without the right pressure or water. He could have ruined the system. There was nothing wrong once he filled it up correctly and reset the gauge. It has been quiet, no drip and is keeping us toasty. They offered me a maintenance agreement and gave me such a deal on it as an apology that it paid for itself. I get two years of free tune ups. Good customer service.

But what amazed me is how much my body calmed down. I spent the rest of the weekend in a much better place. I slept better than I have in a month. My glucose readings dropped fifty points and it is not from eating better, that’s for sure. My physical reaction to the loss of safety in my home was not controllable because I did not even know how bad I was until the things were fixed. I feel so vulnerable because I do not know how to fix the mechanics of my house. I hate being fleeced.

The car was fixed and only what I needed. The garage door works terrific and he fixed the issue of why the eye fell off so it won’t happen again. It did once before and I got it back on. The icemaker had to be replaced but I love having ice so it was worth it. The guy who came out was very nice and lives nearby and fixes all kinds of appliances. It is a good feeling of having someone like him available. He was honest and fair. All is well and there is a safe feeling again in my house.

Now, if there was only some way I could fix what happened on Tuesday with the elections……..

 

 

 

 

Imminent death

Cubid

Last Tuesday, we got a frantic call from my sister-in-law (SIL) that my Mother in law (MIL) was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. She was in the ED and not doing well. My MIL is 91. My husband and I left work and headed over there.

The poor woman was in terrible shape. She could not breath, was very agitated, had a fever and was dehydrated. My MIL had been in hospice once before, but now was under comfort care, which my SIL had agreed to. Under comfort care, they do not do anything to prevent death, other than make someone comfortable. In the ED, my SIL did a 180 and had them do whatever they could for my MIL in the hospital. She was even agreeing to intubation if needed.

My in laws both had very well written advance directives and MOLST saying they did not want any intervention that would mechanically support their lives. My FIL had actually signed himself into hospice when he knew the end was near.

The issue is that my SIL has total control. She is her health proxy. This has been a source of consternation for her oldest brother who wants total control of everything. Over the death of their father, the wound widened and I do not think it will be ever resolved between the two of them.

Meanwhile, my MIL is on high pressure oxygen, nothing by mouth, and is hooked up to IV’s. We were told on Wednesday night to consider comfort care as her time was short. My SIL refused. They continued with nebulizer treatments and suction up until Friday when they said they would no longer provide suction other than in her mouth. They had been shoving tubes down her to help her clear out. She has dementia and is incoherent most of the time. Thursday, she was out of it all day. My SIL said she was just sleeping, but no one could get her to “wake up.” The staff was pleaded with her to change her level and release her. My SIL kept saying “what did they know?”

Yesterday was the day she had agreed to sign her over. We all went to the hospital, including two grandchildren. We spent the morning at the funeral home planning her funeral. When we got to her room, she was more coherent and was telling all of us to enjoy our lives. She told us to take vacations and be happy. It was hard to understand her so her granddaughter decided to be translator. I believe she was embellishing her comments a bit. We had a priest come in and do last rites. After that, she seemed calmer and would come and go. She kept looking for her husband and brother, both passed.

However, my SIL reneged on her agreement and said she was not going to put her in comfort care. She said she likened it to putting a dog down. The MD stopped by and said that he did not think she was in pain and another 24 hours would not make a difference. She took those words as to she was getting better.

They have been very clear to all of us that Mom will never come off the high pressure O2. She is at the highest setting. Since she is on that, she will never eat through her mouth. She is wasting away. I am waiting for my SIL to agree to a feeding tube and then all hell will break out. Her potassium was so low, her toes were a curled knot. I have had toes cramps and they hurt badly. They are passing mega doses of potassium via IV and they said they cannot keep doing that, either. She has aspirated pneumonia which means she choked on something. They also discovered she had a heart attack, possibly when she choked. Her infection has not improved, but also has not gotten worse, which my SIL is taking as sign of recovery. She is so weak and is wasting away.

I love my mother in law. I have only known her for thirteen years. When she started with the dementia, they moved here from Florida. At family gatherings, she was often quiet or nasty. She would change when I was alone with her and was always sweet, even when she repeated herself over and over. My SIL never stayed with her over night for all the times we needed it when my FIL was sick. I did. Even now, she smiles at me when she is awake. Yesterday was weird because she did not know my BIL’s wife even though they have been married for almost thirty years. They, my MIL and other SIL,  have not gotten along for many years, stemming from issues my  SIL caused. However, yesterday she knew me and was asking for me. That did not help with the hard feelings.

It has been a long week. I am spending my days and evenings with my SIL and MIL. They restrained her as she keeps trying to pull everything off of her. I take that as her way of saying “let me go!” The only time they would allow her off of them is if my SIL and I are both in the room. They put them back on when it is just my SIL. I have been doing touch therapy and it helps to calm her down. My SIL is rude to the care team. I am not and I am asking the right questions. A couple of them know who I am as they have worked with me at URMHC. In my own world, I am way past due for my Humira for my PSA and I cannot take it and go to the hospital. It lowers my immune system and that would be like an invitation for me to get sick. So my own pain level is through the roof and I am gimping pretty badly. But I get to go home at night and my MIL will never, so I buck up.

I understand the decision my SIL has to make is hard. But she is disregarding what Mom wanted completely. This has pissed off my brother-in- law and his wife to no end. It is very uncomfortable when they are around which has not been too often. Somehow, they are pissed at my husband and I as we are trying to not get into the fray and keep our mouths shut. My poor husband has been an family outcast most of his life, partially his doing and partially because he is so neutral when it comes to family issues. They love drama.

I put my Mom into Hospice when she had cancer and made preparations to bring her home to die. She died that night. I was 23 years old. It is a long story why the decision was mine. My other SIL had to do the same thing for her mother a few years ago. It was not an easy decision for either one of us to make, but in the best interests of our mothers, we made it. I get that there is always the concern about such a decision; the what if?

I am hoping today my SIL will do the right thing. They will give her morphine and turn down the O2. I honestly think it will be quick and I hope not too dramatic. When we left yesterday, my SIL said, “I wish she would just fall asleep and go.” She does not equate the high pressure O2 as what is keeping her alive. But, my SIL is not the brightest bulb I have discovered.

My BIL said something so cruel that I was stunned the other day. He said, “Mom chose her to take care of her and so now she is getting exactly what she deserves.” Nice! No one deserves to die like this.