Peg's story is this: she has been diagnosed with CHF, also known as Congestive Heart Failure. As my nurse friend Tory told me, this in itself does not mean she'll die tomorrow, it's is a slow killer, but nor does it mean we can expect her to live to a hunfred and seven. All the symptoms she's had over the last year are there, when you think of it, the shortness of breath, the nausea, loss of appetite, bloated feeling, more and more confusion as less blood gets to the brain---and none of this helped by her rather sporadic approach to pill-taking. It is thought the latest incident may have been triggered by the fact she hadn't taken her meds all the week before. But God forbid you get on her case about this or try to force them down her...The resident told me that some patients with CHF last only a matter of months but he's seen some go for another year or two even.
And here I sat.
The next day her voice was only a whisper. Things did not look good. Paula her GP said I might want to consider coming sooner than April 10 (the original plan). I spoke to the resident, the cardiologist, the nurse on the Telemetry floor. Saint Terri has been at her bedside from 7 AM to 8 PM, interspersed with visits from Saints Bonnie and Dominick. Peg was exhausted on Tuesday, having received over a dozen well-wishing visitors. They have now been asked not to come, for the moment, so she can rest.
By yesterday she sounded more like herself and Bonnie reports she ate a full dinner, still needing help to be fed but sometimes she managed it herself. A Hospice nurse friend who'd looked after Odd popped by to see Peg in the afternoon. Here is her report:
"She looked very tired when I arrived but she is still Peg, making others laugh and being very engaged. She is truly amazing! Her heart is full of love and has many miles on it. The numbers you reported are her EF, it stands for ejection fraction. It’s a percentage and refers to the amount of blood ejected from the heart with each beat. 65% is a typical heart. 50% is a decline. 30% causes some trouble during activity. 20% makes someone short of breath with minimal exertion"
Peg's EF as of two days ago was 15 -20%. She is still on 4 litres (?) of oxygen.
They are hoping to get her levels back to normal (or at least improved) and then dismiss her, possibly including a week's rehab back at Laurel Lake, my favourite nursing home hang- out in Lee. The doctor, who Denis, thinking it was yet another asshole telemarketer from Mumbai, hung up on the first time (after telling the guy in a silly voice to go fuck himself) will ring me again tomorrow with a progress report. Hopefully.
I have spoken to Peg every day, sometimes twice.
But here I sat. Not racing to Heathrow.
And the reason for this is that I have made a choice, and that choice has been, right or wrong, to put my husband before my mother. The proofs of DK's memoirs, to be launched April 8, came in on Monday and all 80,000 words and images need to be proofed before I return them to the publisher this week or we wont make the deadline, and the official press release has already gone out. There are a hundred details to sort out in all areas of this launch. It is a project that DK and I have been working on for three years. If it fizzles, it fizzles, but I am determined it will not be because I haven't put my all into it.
And this is why Peg must wait. If she possibly can.
CHF, though a slow killer, can of course trigger something worse, like a heart attack. If that happens, it happens, whether I am there or not. I am confident that she is well looked after in the hospital and that her staff love her (most of the time).
Although there has been much to-ing and fro-ing, Peg has now agreed to stick by the DNR (Do Not Resucitate) order she signed last year. They always ask you again though, if you're conscious, to make sure you're still happy about it. Peg wavers. She doesn't like the idea of her ribs been broken or a big metal tube being crammed down her throat if she goes into cardiac arrest--but she doesn't like the idea of dying, either. I get this.
I am her health proxy. If her heart stops, they'll ask me what to do. I've decided what the answer is.
Needless to say, no filming for Comic Relief has taken place. I am trying to re-think it. Or will, as soon as I get the back cover designed and finalized for the paperback of Key Changes.
Tuesday, I think. I can finish the work by Tuesday, and then get on a plane. And once again pretend I'm a good daughter.
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