Wha’s Happenin’? or S’up?

August 29

-  6 AM  -

 I awakened at 6am on the nose.  I sleep on a small sofa bed in Michele’s room at Peppi”s Place, a hospice unit of TMC in Tucson, AZ.  Michele has been on maximum oxygen with a full face mask for two weeks.  She also has no more options left for healing from cancer.  Well, no medical options, anyway.  Except  . . . . . . . .  one long shot.  A pill – a drug – a medication - that may or may not work and it takes several days to find out.  But, if it does, . . . . . . .  watch out.

Well, I woke up and, like a father of a newborn, stared at Michele lying in her bed to see if she was breathing.  I could see that she was breathing and it was somewhat  regular.  Not heaving like I was accustomed to seeing.  It was more . . .  rhythmic.  I got up, slowly – that’s a sofa bed you know – and went over to her bed.  I leaned down and looked at her face.  It was remarkable how beautiful and peaceful she looked.  There was something unusual.  I suddenly realized that she was not wearing her mask.  It had somehow slipped off her face in the night – who knows when.  As I watched her, I saw that her face had color – pink.  It wasn’t blue.  She was not struggling to breathe.  So I watched for a while.

As I watched, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me.  Her usual smile creased her face.  I hadn’t seen this face without a full face mask for almost two weeks.  She looked at me for a moment and then said  “Good morning.”  “Good morning, sweetie,” I said.  That’s what I call her.  Sweetie. That’s why I said it.  I waited for a few seconds to see what her reaction would be to no face mask, but apparently she hadn’t realized yet that it was missing.

“Notice anything?” I asked.   She looked around and said, “No.”    Cute, huh?     I said, “Your mask is off.  You aren’t wearing your mask.  It came off  in the night.”  She looked around a little more and I pointed to the mask partially buried under her sheet and blanket.  I could see realization  overcoming the sleepiness of waking up.  “How does that make you feel?” I asked.  She thought a second and then said, “A little panicky,” as she grabbed the mask and put it back on.

-  7AM  -

She left the mask on for awhile and after about 15 minutes she said that she would  like to sit  in the recliner chair for awhile and have her breakfast there.  Obviously, she was none the worse for  lack of a mask.  We called the nurse and she helped get Michele into the recliner.  I got our breakfast and sat beside her.  As we were eating and watching a morning show on TV, I noticed that she was periodically taking off her mask.  In a little bit it would  go back on her face.   Soon, the mask was staying off for longer and longer periods of time.  Sitting up takes a lot of energy.  Now add eating, occasional conversation, and breathing plain air.  She was doing good.  Eventually it took a bit of a toll on her and she needed to get back to bed.  With a little help from the nurse and techs we got her in bed and relaxed.  Now,  the mask was staying off far longer than it was on.  She looked good and she felt good.

-  11AM  -

At 11 AM, the doctor  came in for his morning rounds.  He noted the mask  laying on the bed, but didn’t mention it. (I wouldn’t want to play poker with this guy.  He’s got a good poker face.)  After a brief examination, Michele and I  related the events  of the morning.  He asked what Michele wanted to do.  Rather than continue with the on and off treatment with a full mask and 15 liters of oxygen, Michele decided to ask for a  nose cannula which required that her oxygen level be dropped by about 65% to 4 or 5 liters of oxygen.  A big, big step considering that just a few days before she couldn’t be weaned off the oxygen for more than a few seconds. 

The doctor’s poker face dropped and I saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face.  I think he was feeling our excitement.  Something seemed to be happening.  I didn’t want to even think that, certainly not  voice it,  just in case it didn’t pan out.    What if I make a big deal about this and then it fails and she goes back to the old face mask?  Then I began to think, Where is my faith now?  When it seems like my prayers are being answered, why do I  clam up and not share it?  Waiting for the other shoe to drop, maybe?  That’s a lousy example of faith, isn’t  it?

I decided to voice my agreement with Michele and go for the big leap.  So did the doctor.  Michele was fitted with the nose cannula, the oxygen was turned down to about 5 liters and she sat there with it all day, beaming proudly like she was wearing a new set of earrings.  I took another leap and sent an e-mail, with a photo, to all our family and many of our friends telling them what had happened – that something had happened!  I put it on Facebook!!    Wow!!    Scary!!      No, not scary.  It was more . . . .  thrilling!      You should have seen me in the room.  P  acing around, bouncing up and down, big smile on my face.  Something happened!

-  2PM  -

We hooked her up to the oxygen meter a couple of times just to make sure we weren’t taking it too far.  The doctor would like to see her level at 92% but lower levels are okay if she can tolerate it.  The first time she checked  in at 90%.  Good!  That’s really close.   We didn’t check  it  again until late afternoon and at that time it was reading a little low, bouncing between 86 and 89%.  But, she was comfortable.  No distress.  And her breathing was not as labored.

-  6PM  -

She continued into the evening and even entertained some guests for a couple of hours.  At the last vitals check about 10 PM, , the nurse asked if Michele wanted to keep the cannula on for the night or go for the security of the full mask.  She really wanted to stick with the cannula.  That full mask can be claustrophobic and she had been wearing it way too long.  However, she didn’t want to risk have her levels go down during the night. So she decided to check her level (SATS) one more time.  It was 92%.  How encouraging was that?

-  2AM  -

It’s about 2 AM now as I write this and she is peacefully sleeping, her face turned toward me.  She is beautiful, her face is pink and peaceful.  Thank you, Lord.  I can’t wait  for  tomorrow – whatever it brings.  We’re in Your hands and we can’t go wrong.

Something’s happening!    

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