As you may or may not recall (or care) I'm her Medical Power of Attorney, as such it's my job to be sure that, should she be unable, her wishes for her care are carried out. After the ordeal in the ICU she told me she didn't want two things: chest compressions (as part of CPR) or to be intubated again.
She went to a sorta halfway out of the hospital level of care place where her wishes were taken down in their "code book". Grandma was what's known as a "code 2", in other words, do some, but don't use "heroic measures" should her heart stop.
From there she moved into a skilled nursing facility where they see things in black and white. There was no "code 2" only "full code" or "no code", i.e. do EVERYTHING or NOTHING and no in between. Grandma and I talked for a long time before she decided, and yeah, ok, I was prompting a bit, to opt for everything vs. nothing. We did the paperwork with the full knowledge that she was doing great, getting healthier by the day, and we were really starting to feel she'd come out the other side of a really scary time to have the better quality of life I had assured her lay on the other side of the bypass surgery.
Last night around 2am my home phone rang. It's never a good thing when the phone rings at 2am. spool32 was still up playing on the computer and I was dozing on the couch, but I still managed to get the phone first. The voice on the other end of the line was the kind of calm that means "hear me out all the way through before you freak out". She read off a time line to me, at x time Grandma received her breathing treatment, at y time she pushed the call button and asked for Tylenol, at z time they brought the Tylenol and found her "unresponsive". CPR was started after some unknown amount of time measured in minutes and EMS was called. EMS arrived at xy time and found her to be "code blue", no pulse, no heart beat, no signs of life. They were, as the calm voice on the other end of the phone told me, giving her CPR right then and had been working on her for over 15minutes at that point.
I threw on clothes and left. It's a 20 minute drive from my house to there, but it seemed to be taking a lot longer. I started ringing my mom who's out of state visiting friends when I got in the car. She finally answered and I, little miss calm in a crisis, burst into tears at the sound of my mother's voice. A call from the house interrupted my conversation with mom (I did get it together again pretty quickly) and I flipped over to hear my husband's frantic voice "they just called back, EMS revived her, they're taking her to the hospital!" I nearly hung up on him and called Mom back, we were both torn about her having been revived.
Horrible, I know how it sounds. But it isn't really, we knew they had to have used as least some measures Grandma didn't want done and that we had no idea how long she'd been "down" (i.e. no oxygen getting to her brain). I raced to the hospital with my mother making flight reservations for this morning in my ear (*cheers quietly for bluetooth gadgets*).
I walked in and they stopped me, I got to see her for a second in between the blues and greens of the scrubs surrounding her. Nude, bloated, pale and surrounded by people moving at a constant pace. I was ushered gently to a waiting room where I made more phone calls, paced, felt dazed and wondered what the fuck the next few minutes would hold.
I could see the room where they were working on her from the doorway of the waiting area, I could hear them and I speak just enough Medicalese to know a lot of what was being said. The lead ER doctor came in and sat me down, got information from me, told me they didn't know anything. Then she gave me the first blow that made my heart sink, she was intubated and not breathing on her own at all.
I eventually got to go be with her. I held her hand, stroked her hair...noted she'd just had it permed and dyed and that it looked really good, talked to her...she was so damn cold. Another doctor came in, told me that they didn't have her on anything to sedate her at all, that she hadn't regained consciousness and that was a bad sign. She wasn't opening her eyes or responding to anything, wasn't moving her arms in the restraints. He left and it was almost on cue, she started to twitch some, like she was waking up. I smiled and felt this huge burden lift off of my heart, her arm raised on one side and I went around and held that hand, she squeezed it. Then she squeezed it harder. Someone came in and saw me smiling, I said she'd opened her eyes and squeezed my hand. They smiled back saying that was a really good sign. All I could think was, "holy shit, she's going to be ok".
Then the respirator started beeping horribly and she was squeezing the hell out of my hand then letting it go. All only on one side. And I noticed her whole face was contorting. People rushed in, working around me, telling me to talk to her, try to get her to respond. Then someone opened her eyes and shined a light into them. "Pinpoints, fixed. She's having a seizure." I helped hold her down while they shoved a bite guard into her mouth so she wasn't biting down on the tube giving her oxygen. Her poor body fought against me, I kept talking to her in soothing tones, and so did the guys working on her as their muscles strained while they tried to unclamp her jaw so the machine could breathe for her.
Then they were gone and it was just me, and her, and the seizure went on and on and on. I held her hand feeling my knuckles crack everytime she sqeezed my hand. I talked to her. I started to not feel so good.
They came to get her to go have a head CT. I asked where the bath room was. I remember asking, I don't remember getting there. I tried not to be sick, but I failed. I tried desperately not to faint on the cold hard inviting tile of the ER bathroom floor and barely managed it. I remember thinking I just needed to get to my car so I could lay down. I remember a hand on my arm, strong and forceful, then being in a wheelchair and there being all this hubbub around me. An IV, bright lights, the world wouldn't hold still. Something in the IV that burned a bit and then I felt a bit better. I answered questions and, like a good woman *gag, eyeroll* apologized. Turns out there's a form of physical shock you can go into from emotional trama. Huh, who knew. Didn't help that my potassium was dangerously low. So, several IV bags, heavy drugs, and hours later my father showed up to get me out of the ER and walk with me up to ICU to see my grandmother.
She's being given hypothermia as a treatment. They've got her body temperature around 89 degrees (f). The idea is it'll help her brain heal some, if it can, because there's swelling and damage in her brain. Tomorrow they'll start bringing up her body temperature again and the day after that my mother and I will make the decision to keep her intubated or not based on what the neurology shows.
I stood with my mother, the nurse, and a wonderful doctor outside of her room and took my responsibility as her Medical Power of Attorney and signed everywhere they pointed to. Now, if her heart stops, that's it. Nothing will be done at all. And it's my name on her death warrant, and I love her, and I miss her, and I'm just trying to do what's right by her. And my heart is breaking.
I got sick again after I signed all that stuff, but I knew it for what it was and the doctor in the ER told me how to deal with it. I hugged Grandma as best I could for all the tubes and wires then went out to Mom's car and let my body pass out. Mom drove me home, she'll pick me up in the morning.
Thanks for letting me put this here, it's sorta like purging it somehow. I needed to do that. I felt like screaming it from the rooftop, but writing it all here is less likely to get my neighbors to call the police
and you guys are a hell of a lot cheaper than a shrink *Grins*.I should also mention that I have the best husband ever. I came home today barely able to walk. The couch was all ready for me, he let me sleep and cuddle our kiddos as they wanted to. He's making sure I eat and not minding that I'm waking up as he's getting off the computer and is ready for bed himself.
In so many ways my life is so very blessed.