“Today is Tuesday, April 3, 2018. It is 7:00 am. It is 70 degrees outside. You have a big day scheduled. The visiting hospice RN is due at 8:30 am and the hospice social worker at 1:30 pm,” I said to my wife of 43 plus years.
In the background, my sister-in-law said, “It’s time for your first morning meds. These are the ones with the thyroid medicine and two others. You take them before breakfast.”
My wife squinted, the ceiling light temporarily blinding her and then hurting her eyes. “So I don’t get breakfast now.”
“No, you don’t eat with the thyroid meds. The others RXs are to protect your stomach and get you ready for breakfast, and the 9 am medications,” said my wife’s younger sister.
“So I have to wait an hour to eat?”
“Yes. I am going to cook you pancakes for breakfast,” I said.
She gave me an evil eye.
“I know, you didn’t like them in the hospital or the in-patient hospice, but these have the secret ingredient, my love,” I said.
As she rolled her eyes, she said, “Okay, why not? I’ll try them.”
And so began day five on the in-home under the supervision of hospice care of my terminally ill wife. She has had Melanoma for three years. It spread to the brain. A tumor was removed. I recurred again. And here we are.
I’ll write a few thoughts from time to time on what is happening. From what I’m told, if I use an American football metaphor, it is the fourth quarter, the two-minute warning has been given, and we are out of timeouts.