Today I went into town just after lunch to spend the afternoon with Anthony at the nursing home. This has become the ‘norm’ now because a few weeks ago it just became too difficult to take him out and about or to the farm on a regular basis because of mobility problems. Over the last several days Ants has been quite content to just have me in a chair next to him with my arm around him, watching Judge Judy, Dr Phil and, if we are lucky, a good afternoon movie.
I usually stay from around 1.30 – 4.30pm (my new routine) and it beats the hell out of my old routine of taking Anthony on outings, or home, then being unable to manage. Even at the nursing home, I have been told not to lift, move, or even shift him in his chair, because he is now strictly classified as a 2-person lift.
This afternoon I entered Anthony’s room with wine and olives and my usual ‘goodies’ and he was asleep in his armchair. Usually I wake him up, but he looked too peaceful so I just sat next to him and quietly ate all of the olives. Suddenly a nurse entered the room to take his blood pressure because he had been asleep all day. He woke up but only slightly and the nurse and I struggled to get one of his arms free from his jumper because he was so limp and ‘out-of-it’. Well his BP was 190/110 – very high. This, and the fact that I couldn’t really wake him up enough to say goodbye when I left to go home, alarmed me a bit.
On the way back home to the farm, I allowed myself to think that Anthony might be dying. But my thinking of this possibility could not translate into a coherent thought because I cannot imagine him not being here. Despite the difficulties of home nursing, the transition to a nursing home, and all of the mini-traumas in between, I have not yet been able to imagine life without Anthony in it.
My father, Brin, died of a heart attack on this day, 36 years ago. He was only in his 50s.
jmgoyder 