9-7-19
Tuesday morning . . . 10.34 am
He is still sleeping soundly.
200mls of food overnight.
He is trying really hard after the Dietician gave him an ultimatum on Thursday of last week. X amount of everything or back to hospital yesterday. It was a tough few days trying to stick to a regime, that we set out on paper with hourly goals, as he feels like crap all the time and swallowing is still such a difficult thing to do. He has managed a few sips of coffee, a few sips of water, a spoon or 2 of soup and last night he had one eighth of a piece of bread dunked in soup.
He has started talking in his sleep a lot. Never done it before. And when he falls asleep on the couch his hands act out tasks like typing and using a mouse . . . like when he had morphine induced hallucinations. I am concerned about his state of mind. Sometimes he talks about random things and I ask if he is awake, it seems like he is day dreaming out loud. He swears he is not confused and that "you have just never listened to me before, I have always been like this" . . . yeah yeah ha ha
Today we are off to the Ear Nose and Throat guy we saw originally, for a check up and to see if he can do something about his cough, which is back, after not being around since the beginning of his treatment. Prednisolone steroids stop his cough. I'm guessing that all the steroids he was given throughout the weeks of treatment kept it away? . . . . . maybe, or it is the bags of food?
oh yes I did go away to my artists Retreat. I had the most wonderful time with my tribe. I felt the love. I had my hair blow dried and straightened, I was given a massage, hand and shoulders, I was given a henna and flower healing ceremony by the lake, I made art, I made jewelry, I painted, I ate good food, I drank wine, I laughed, I cried, I played, I swore, I hugged, I sang and I danced . . . . I wanted to disappear into the hills and never come back . . . . you know what I mean . . .
I spoke to him twice whilst away, only Telstra phones had service so I borrowed one, he said he was fine.
mmmmm.
When I got home I found out he had not taken one of his medications the whole time I had been gone . . .
all the goodness from the trip drained away . . .
A wise lady at the retreat, who also cares for her husband at home, said to me "we go home, we mop up the mess, and we start again" . . .
Day 1. FUPC
Tuesday morning . . . 10.34 am
He is still sleeping soundly.
200mls of food overnight.
He is trying really hard after the Dietician gave him an ultimatum on Thursday of last week. X amount of everything or back to hospital yesterday. It was a tough few days trying to stick to a regime, that we set out on paper with hourly goals, as he feels like crap all the time and swallowing is still such a difficult thing to do. He has managed a few sips of coffee, a few sips of water, a spoon or 2 of soup and last night he had one eighth of a piece of bread dunked in soup.
He has started talking in his sleep a lot. Never done it before. And when he falls asleep on the couch his hands act out tasks like typing and using a mouse . . . like when he had morphine induced hallucinations. I am concerned about his state of mind. Sometimes he talks about random things and I ask if he is awake, it seems like he is day dreaming out loud. He swears he is not confused and that "you have just never listened to me before, I have always been like this" . . . yeah yeah ha ha
Today we are off to the Ear Nose and Throat guy we saw originally, for a check up and to see if he can do something about his cough, which is back, after not being around since the beginning of his treatment. Prednisolone steroids stop his cough. I'm guessing that all the steroids he was given throughout the weeks of treatment kept it away? . . . . . maybe, or it is the bags of food?
oh yes I did go away to my artists Retreat. I had the most wonderful time with my tribe. I felt the love. I had my hair blow dried and straightened, I was given a massage, hand and shoulders, I was given a henna and flower healing ceremony by the lake, I made art, I made jewelry, I painted, I ate good food, I drank wine, I laughed, I cried, I played, I swore, I hugged, I sang and I danced . . . . I wanted to disappear into the hills and never come back . . . . you know what I mean . . .
I spoke to him twice whilst away, only Telstra phones had service so I borrowed one, he said he was fine.
mmmmm.
When I got home I found out he had not taken one of his medications the whole time I had been gone . . .
all the goodness from the trip drained away . . .
A wise lady at the retreat, who also cares for her husband at home, said to me "we go home, we mop up the mess, and we start again" . . .
Day 1. FUPC
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