Here's what's proving difficult, trying to keep Daddy calm and make him think all is well, that Peg will be OK when mostly I want to weep. First of all I'm grateful for him even remembering that Peg is IN the hospital, rather than say the kitchen or napping somewhere. There is always a slight look of confusion when I say, "I just spoke to the nurse, Mama's doing fine!" before it hits him, then his love for her kicks in and his eyes fill and he tries not to cry in front of me, keeps apologizing. This is a man who used to back the car out and get the engine warmed up for her then stand in the drive and wave and wave and wave as if Peg's sailing away forever to the New World when she's only off in the Subaru to Price Chopper or Tina the Hairdresser's. He had a violent coughing/choking fit during "How To Marry A Millionaire" about 8 PM. I held him and patted him thinking right, now I get to call an ambulance two days running--but got him calmer and wiped him off then got an Atavan down him (sort of a tranquilizer that Hospice provides---I'll be hitting the bag of 'em shortly with a soup spoon) and this had the desired effect.
I don't know if Peg will be OK, to tell you the truth. She was in good spirits when I got there today at 11. Had made her some asparagus soup and chicken salad sandwich, and brought it all to her to find out she wasn't allowed any solid food yet, just some consommé. She took two sips then choked, as usual. Next thing is she can't breathe and in come the machines and the doctors and the nurses and: fluid in lungs. So she got some Lasix and then something to make her heart not race. And twenty minutes later she was feeling more like herself but tired and tearful and humiliated by being naked in front of male doctors and having her bum wiped. I sat holding her hand for a few hours.
But then I had to come home because Odd would be here on his own after 5, and that can't be. And I didn't want to leave Mama. And that made me sad. Makes me sad. And now Odd is in bed and the doctor called saying they have to put a line in her jugular because her wrist veins are too small and telling me all the things that can go wrong and I KNOW they have to say this but she'll be scared and I want to be there.
Anyhow. Bollocks. Two sick parents in their nineties. There are worse things, right? Can't think of one off hand but am sure there are some. I have fed the dog and given Daddy Carbonader Kaker (hamburgers and onions Norwegian style) for dinner and made a few hundred calls and am happy because my lovely Annie is going to come up from CT tomorrow to spend the night and stay with Odd if I need to be with Peg.
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STAFF ON CALL:
Bonnie, who did 5 loads of Peg clothes and cleaned her "area"spic and span and hung up all her stuff so the room now looks halfway habitable. I was at first hoping Peg would even notice it. Now I'm hoping she lives to notice it. Actually I don't give a fuck whether she notices it, I just want her to be here and well again and not have 300 tubes and needles stuck into her.
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Some jerk woman who bought a gold brooch with semi-precious stones from me on eBay is giving me a hard time because seems I weighed it with a regular scale and not a jewelers one and seems it's only 4 oz not 6 so she wants $25 back. I hate this woman.
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Am starting to miss the Weather Channel at top volume.
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12:20 AM Update: just got the news that "the line" went in ok although Peg was anxious about it, and that she is now sleeping soundly---when Odd appears in the den gasping for breath. Another attack. Atavan, Maalox, Nebulizer, Oxygen. Can do no more. He's in distress, still. Have put him back in bed and will stay up until he's breathing normally. Or until I can't stand it anymore and go to bed.
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