Yesterday was a day of terror for me and last night I couldn’t sleep, thinking that any minute I would receive “the phone-call” from the nursing home, to say that Anthony had died.
In the early hours of today, I eventually slept but woke up and, once again, in the grip of that horrible terror, I reached for my phone. No messages. Phew.
This morning, I headed in to the nursing home, thinking I would be met by sombre faces and bad news and, instead, I found Anthony, alive and in a wheelchair, watching the news in one of the communal areas. I wheeled him back to his room and managed to get him into his armchair, then rang a couple of worried relatives so that they could speak to him on the phone. He managed a few words but kept handing the phone back to me.
At noon, I fed him his vitamised lunch which he ate most of and he said, about the dessert (a frothy vanilla mousse), “My favourite”. I must find out what it is so I can bring him some, because he loves it and it’s easy to swallow.
After lunch, he fell asleep, just like yesterday, but he didn’t lose consciousness. I know this because, every time I shook him, he woke up. Yesterday, he didn’t.
Yesterday forewarned me by forcing me to face the prospect of Anthony’s death, something I have been reluctant to do until now. And, in facing this inevitability, I am now forearmed with the knowledge of how to plan his funeral, right down to the kind of casket/coffin to purchase (the cheapest is still around $1,500 – I had no idea – Ants would be appalled!) I have decided who to ask to do readings, be pallbearers, deliver eulogies and am now trying to decide what music would be appropriate.
The terror has gone – whoosh – gone! There is no way of knowing how soon Anthony will die – even the doctor can’t predict that – but, as the latest deterioration has been so fast, and so shocking to me, I feel much more prepared than I was.
And that’s a good thing.
jmgoyder 