Yesterday was a friend's birthday celebration down the road here for about 20 lucky over-50 ladies, myself included, beginning with an outdoor yoga class, followed most generously by private beauty treatments: mani/pedicures; facials; Indian head massages; sports massage; reflexology--and then by cocktail hour with stunning canapes and a 3 course dinner prepared by Peter Harrison, award-winning master chef. It went from noon to about 8pm. I had been looking forward to it forever, as a "chill-out"--no phones, no pressure, no even worrying about hair and make-up. A complete It's All About Me afternoon, start to finish. So guess where I spent most of it: on my cell phone, returning 101 messages I just happened to see when I clicked it on to text DK to say what a glorious afternoon it was--messages from Bonnie, Porchlight nurses, Peg's GP, plus a few million emails from same, everyone worried about Peg, who I then spoke to 6 times, resulting in pretty much the end of my glorious afternoon and a lot of quiet tears in the hostess's garage crouched down between her kids bikes, the only place I could get a signal.
OK, done with the moan. Back to being a kind, caring, competent daughter. Maybe.
Peg has definitely not been the same since coming home from the hospital over a week ago. Weaker, sounding tired and weak, all normal oomph and zest gone, or at least diminished. And diminished even more by yesterday, hence the panic. Peg too tired to walk, so now in Odd's wheelchair. Can't get her pills down. Can't swallow easily (she never could, but worse now apparently). Managed a few sips of Gatorade (electrolytes). Finally asked for orange juice, which she hates, so not sure what that was about but she drank it. Scared to lie down. Wouldn't nap. Shortness of breath--or not short, but shallow.
During all this her vitals, however, are perfect. Doctor wants us to keep Hospice at bay, for the moment (after I spent half an hour finding all the numbers, crouched in the garage). So I guess we do that.
GP asked me how much I thought this new weakened state might be due to depression. And I said, judging from past experience--probably quite a bit, if her vitals are normal. GP wondered if it was time to consider moving Peg into Berkshire Place. I said Peg would rather die, she told me, than "go into a home".
Peg extremely tearful whenever we spoke, knows she is, says she just can't stop crying and doesn't know why. I said I didn't think it was unusual: she's old, her body's giving out, Daddy's not there, and I'm not there. She allowed as how all that was true: her age, her body, missing Daddy (no mention of missing me).
In fact, end of the day, she told me to stay put, take care of DK and "the boy" (Alex, age 27), and not to worry. I said that was impossible--worrying was my job, and I would come over next week. I asked if she could hang on and not die until next week. She laughed and said definitely and started talking about Christmas (God help us).
So I am NOT rushing onto a plane, I am going to see DK through with his book launch (estimating next Mon or Tues for all formats up and running) and then look at air fares. Although, of course, when I hear her tiny thin voice, my inclination is to grab my passport (and make-up bag) and head straight for Heathrow.
So I am fighting that. I am trying to remember all the horrible things she's ever said or done to me (nice), to not feel guilty about staying here. Even though Terri has gone off to help her sister through an aortic aneurysm issue in New Jersey so Bonnie will have to pitch in on overnights, as it's all becoming a bit much for Dominick, who I believe has found two friends from AA to assist, a Tony and an Eileen.
Going to head to Leiston Press now to order the flyers (for DK's book, not Peg's obit.)
FLASH UPDATE: Dominick just called. he wants Hospice on board now, today, she's fading, going definitely he says. Must make a decision now
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