Strange Notations From a Laborious Life

It’s been a tough week. We had five days with temperatures hovering around 40 degrees, half of Victoria is on fire, including Cobram where my father grew up and the President of the United States has all but turned his country into a rogue nation. Fun times.

On a personal note, times are also tough. A week ago, Linda was visited by her palliative care team and she noted some soreness in her shoulder that hasn’t been there before. They took her seriously and the next day we were invested by doctors and nurses, bringing with them all sorts of medical paraphernalia. And lucky they did! By coincidence, Linda was feeling quite unwell on the day. We put it down to overindulgence at New Year’s, most family members having a few little stomach upsets but nothing we felt was too out of control. The doctors came to the conclusion that oral medication wasn’t quite doing the trick, and as Linda was struggling to keep things down they connected a syringe driver for morphine and a sub-cut for nausea medication. Everything seemed to work a treat-for a while.

I had bought a couple of little hand-held walkie talkies as I was struggling to hear Linda call out if she was resting in bed and I was in the lounge room. They had arrived the day before all this drama, I had powered them up and they were certainly put to good use. Unfortunately everything went to custard from there and later in the evening a call came over my own receiver, “Matt, I’ve crashed again!”

The nausea medication had made Linda feel better but a few hours later she was vomiting again and our world was about to be turned upside down. I injected her with more anti-nausea medication but it was to no avail, she threw up several times over the next hour. We phoned the care team and were soon advised to do the obvious-head to the emergency department at the hospital.

Well, that started the wild ride for the week, the details of which I won’t go into. There have been changes of wards, scans, blood tests, general tests and Linda has ended up in Clare Holland House, exactly the place where she wanted to be, for rest and hopefully, some recuperation and a chance to let the medical professionals figure out what is best for her regarding medication balance at this point of her journey.

Now don’t panic. Many probably realise that the hostel at Clare Holland House is for end of life care but they also have provision for people like Linda, who aren’t quite there yet but need some special treatment to make sure she is comfortable. The intention for the moment is to have her stay for two weeks, sort out her pain relief and make provision for her to come home. Of course things can change but I am looking forward to having her back in the comfort of her reclining chair, flicking through the channels or just watching re-runs of JAG and NCIS as she is prone to do.

She was well enough to venture out to the lake next to Clare Holland House for a little celebration for Megan on the weekend. Megan will turn thirty in June but as the likelihood of Linda being around then is very slim, Linda threw her a little birthday party to celebrate on the weekend. Lovely but very bittersweet. Today’s photo is of Linda at the picnic.

Of course, things can turn on a dime. Linda was quite ill again yesterday and last night. There is no more active treatment, only the care team to keep her comfortable and the progression of her disease is inevitable. I drove home last night wondering if she will in fact get out of the hostel.

Monique was in to see her mum early today and I was happy to get a message that Linda was feeling much better and was able to eat and conduct her day as normal. What a relief. She’s not done yet!

We go on now, day by day. We have heard the chimes at midnight but we very much hope to get Linda home and comfortable although she seems to be enjoying the lovely room and care she is getting. It won’t be of the same standard here!

We go on, inspired by Linda’s fighting spirit and the joy she gets from just waking up every morning. She told me after her diagnosis three years ago that she had lived a happy life and would die with no regrets. They are words to live and to remember her by. Not that we could ever forget her.

Take care and stay cool. Until next time.