Sad news to report. Mom is in the hospital with an infection. It came on her overnight this weekend. On Friday (April 25), she and Peg had a nice evening together and Mom ate heartily. The next morning (Saturday, April 26), Peg couldn’t wake her up. She knew Mom was alive because she was breathing and had a heartbeat, but still wouldn’t come to complete consciousness. Peg called 911, and Mom ended up in Sacred Heart. The EMT’s suggested that she go there because of the possibility that she had had a stroke.
By about 11:30 AM, they began a CAT scan, and by about 1 PM were able to determine that there was no sign of a stroke on the CAT image. They had also taken a complete blood count and found that her white blood cells were “down to zero.” So they delivered antibiotics and took cultures. It wasn’t until the next morning, however, (Sunday, April 27) that they knew what bug it was and could be sure of the diagnosis: bacterial infection in the blood.
Saturday was a bad night for Mom and for us. She was quite sick. She would occasionally become alert, but Peg, Bill and I all thought she was clearly delirious. She was refusing treatment: “No chemo; no antibiotics; let go, let God” she said over and over again with great vehemence. That really affected Peg, Bill and me. And some of the hospital staff decided that she was lucid enough that her wishes had to be respected. As a result, it was a late night that included lots of discussion with the medical staff about appropriate treatment.
Sunday morning, she showed signs of improvement. I had spent the night there, so I was ready when she was coming to. She seemed a little bit more alert than she had been the night before.
Poor thing, her mouth was so dry. I asked and she agreed to take some water by mouth. She couldn’t lift her head so I held the cup and straw for her. As I helped her, I became aware that she smelled the coffee on my breath. I asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. She said yes to that, too. I got some nice hot coffee for her, put the straw to her lips, and, boy, did she suck it down. I asked her if it seemed to be too hot. Of course, old iron mouth said, “No, it’s good.” Hallelujah! She sucked down I think three cups in very short order, and from that point on, she was more much more receptive to other assistance.
I firmly believe that the taste of a good, hot cup of coffee brought back her will to live.
Peg and Bill came back to be with her within an hour or so. We were all glad that she seemed to be a bit better but still very, very sad and concerned about her refusal of treatment
When the doctor showed up about noon, he spoke to her very clearly. He said he needed her to accept the antibiotics and the electrolytes, and he needed her to let the nurses draw blood. She said, “OK,” and I can tell you that Peg, Bill and I all erupted with glad relief and gratitude to Mom and many thanks to the doctor. I even hugged him! We hurried the nurse to get the antibiotics and start them up before Mom or anyone else could interfere.
By Monday (April 28), Mom was alert enough to hold conversations with Bill in the morning, me in the afternoon and Peg in the evening. She was strong enough to stand up in the shower and to sit up in a chair to feed herself.
As you might imagine, the weekend was a complete blur to her, so each one of us went over the events of Saturday and Sunday with her. We have downplayed somewhat the fact that for about twelve hours, she was refusing treatment, and about the effect of that on us. We recognize that she is still having a hard time putting it all together in her mind. But we have hopes that when she gets better, we can come to a clearer understanding of her desires.
She has always said that we should refuse all heroic measures to sustain life, and we definitely will respect that, but we did not regard the intravenous administration of antibiotics as a heroic measure. We were distressed that, in her delirium, she was able to persuade the medical staff to terminate that assistance. This is going to take more talking about, definitely.
Today, her fever has risen a bit again. She says that her mind feels foggy, that she feels “silly.” The treatment is continuing: antibiotics, injections to stimulate white blood cell production and hospitalization. We don’t know what will happen next, and we are taking it day-by-day, hour-by-hour.
Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers.
This is a photo of Bill's, Peg's and Mom's hands as we were with her in the hospital room.
By about 11:30 AM, they began a CAT scan, and by about 1 PM were able to determine that there was no sign of a stroke on the CAT image. They had also taken a complete blood count and found that her white blood cells were “down to zero.” So they delivered antibiotics and took cultures. It wasn’t until the next morning, however, (Sunday, April 27) that they knew what bug it was and could be sure of the diagnosis: bacterial infection in the blood.
Saturday was a bad night for Mom and for us. She was quite sick. She would occasionally become alert, but Peg, Bill and I all thought she was clearly delirious. She was refusing treatment: “No chemo; no antibiotics; let go, let God” she said over and over again with great vehemence. That really affected Peg, Bill and me. And some of the hospital staff decided that she was lucid enough that her wishes had to be respected. As a result, it was a late night that included lots of discussion with the medical staff about appropriate treatment.
Sunday morning, she showed signs of improvement. I had spent the night there, so I was ready when she was coming to. She seemed a little bit more alert than she had been the night before.
Poor thing, her mouth was so dry. I asked and she agreed to take some water by mouth. She couldn’t lift her head so I held the cup and straw for her. As I helped her, I became aware that she smelled the coffee on my breath. I asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. She said yes to that, too. I got some nice hot coffee for her, put the straw to her lips, and, boy, did she suck it down. I asked her if it seemed to be too hot. Of course, old iron mouth said, “No, it’s good.” Hallelujah! She sucked down I think three cups in very short order, and from that point on, she was more much more receptive to other assistance.
I firmly believe that the taste of a good, hot cup of coffee brought back her will to live.
Peg and Bill came back to be with her within an hour or so. We were all glad that she seemed to be a bit better but still very, very sad and concerned about her refusal of treatment
When the doctor showed up about noon, he spoke to her very clearly. He said he needed her to accept the antibiotics and the electrolytes, and he needed her to let the nurses draw blood. She said, “OK,” and I can tell you that Peg, Bill and I all erupted with glad relief and gratitude to Mom and many thanks to the doctor. I even hugged him! We hurried the nurse to get the antibiotics and start them up before Mom or anyone else could interfere.
By Monday (April 28), Mom was alert enough to hold conversations with Bill in the morning, me in the afternoon and Peg in the evening. She was strong enough to stand up in the shower and to sit up in a chair to feed herself.
As you might imagine, the weekend was a complete blur to her, so each one of us went over the events of Saturday and Sunday with her. We have downplayed somewhat the fact that for about twelve hours, she was refusing treatment, and about the effect of that on us. We recognize that she is still having a hard time putting it all together in her mind. But we have hopes that when she gets better, we can come to a clearer understanding of her desires.
She has always said that we should refuse all heroic measures to sustain life, and we definitely will respect that, but we did not regard the intravenous administration of antibiotics as a heroic measure. We were distressed that, in her delirium, she was able to persuade the medical staff to terminate that assistance. This is going to take more talking about, definitely.
Today, her fever has risen a bit again. She says that her mind feels foggy, that she feels “silly.” The treatment is continuing: antibiotics, injections to stimulate white blood cell production and hospitalization. We don’t know what will happen next, and we are taking it day-by-day, hour-by-hour.
Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers.
This is a photo of Bill's, Peg's and Mom's hands as we were with her in the hospital room.
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