My Grandma’s not well. Not very well at all. I had been thinking about her for a couple of days. Normally, I get an update from mum as to how she’s faring. But on Friday I decided to give her a call. I was caught completely off guard when she answered the phone with the hoarsest of whispers.
No big deal? Well, it kinda is. 2 ½ years ago my Grandmother was diagnosed with bowel cancer (after it was thought she had a bowel obstruction). She underwent the grueling treatment of surgery and several cycles of chemotherapy. Following this treatment, she was declared to have a clean bill of health. Less than 6 months later she deteriorated and it was discovered that she had two metastases. Once again, she underwent chemotherapy treatment. Around about 6 months ago (maybe a little more), she bravely decided not to have anymore treatment following scans that showed that while the chemo was containing the size and spread of the tumors, it was not shrinking them. She felt her quality of life was compromised by frequent trips to the hospital and the way chemo made her feel post-treatment. It was difficult to accept but you can fully understand her decision.
This decision has meant that she is no longer around a specialist consultant or having regular, routine tests (blood and liver function). She is seen at home by her GP. But, it now is thought she may have a tumor in her throat (obviously not confirmed) and her liver function is completely shot. I have no idea whether the deterioration of her liver function is rapid or slow. Not knowing this information is making it exceptionally hard to make a decision of when to fly back to Oz. With deteriorating liver function, at some stage her level of consciousness is going to decrease … eventually leaving her in a coma. The rest of her vital organs will pack up following the cue from the liver. I’m so torn over what to do. When on earth do I make an emergency trip home? I dearly want to see her while she’s still conscious. A trip back home at this time is going to cripple me financially … but she is my Grandma. I love her more than she knows.
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Strangely enough, the anxiety and stress I’ve been feeling over my Grandmother’s condition has lead to me having a poor appetite. This is a highly unusual occurrence for me. Normally, under stress or during a very emotional time, I would console myself with food. I have never understood when people have talked about losing their appetite in times of stress. But for the very first time it’s happened. Instead of squashing my emotions down with food, I let myself feel the grief and sadness. I cried. I cried loads in fact. I talked to at least half a dozen people at work (including the oncologist) rather than clamming up and assuring everyone I was fine.
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Note: I'm about to disclose the rather unladylike occurences of my "Choke from Hell" . If you're squeamish, I’d strongly advise you to find some other light reading!
Yesterday was a jam packed day (which included a massage and pedicure … aah!). I didn’t really eat enough. When I finally got home and was starving. I thought a piece of ham and a square of chocolate would tide me over until I made dinner. Ha! I inhaled the piece of ham – it never even hit the sides going down. As soon as I swallowed the first mouthful I knew I was in trouble. I got a slightly slimey feeling in my mouth. I ignored it, finished the piece of ham (in two mouthfuls) and followed it with a piece of chocolate. You’d think I’d learn wouldn’t you?! Not so. I immediately could feel that something was stuck. I had pain in my chest. I was producing a ridiculous amount of slime. And then some more slime. And did I mention the slime?! I brought up over 2 cups of clear slime over 45 minutes but nothing was moving. I then started bringing up chocolate slime. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. I certainly couldn’t lay down. The discomfort was incredible. I stood under a scalding hot shower for 50 minutes. At this point, it was 3 hours into the “Choke from Hell”. I got out of the shower, bawling my eyes out and still feeling that something was stuck in my stoma. I grabbed the phone ready to ring the administrator/doctor. But just as I got the phone, I was hit with a feeling that I needed to vomit. I leaned over the kitchen sink and violently hurled (eww! but it was the first receptacle I could get to!). I felt miserable. I couldn’t keep my own saliva down. If I took a sip or two of water – it would immediately come back up. I madly texted Rob. And Jaap (company administrator/doctor). And Em. I tried to call Sandra and C – but I only got voice mail for both of them! I felt so alone and scared. Rob felt helpless – not sure what to tell me. I began a series of volatile hurls – and it wasn’t just the contents from my pouch; there was also stuff from my stomach proper (as I could taste that awful metallic taste you get when you vomit). Em called me ... 30 seconds into the conversation I was bent over the toilet – unable to get the phone far enough away from me as I hurled, Em had the pleasure of living the experience with me. Jaap called on the mobile. Em hung on the landline. Jaap assured me that it would pass. He also informed me not to drink and vomit if I had to (not that I had a choice!). I asked about going to A&E. He told me that there was not a lot they would be able to do. I just had to hang in there. I went back to my call with Em. I still felt very ordinary but something had moved since the last vomit. Unfortunately, I got an attack of painful hiccups (which I had been getting on and off during the whole episode but these were particularly uncomfortable). 6 very long hours later the incident was over. I was exhausted. My eyes were blood shot. I had a red rash from my breast bone to my chin. I gingerly lay down at midnight with my head propped up on not one, not two but three pillows. My tummy was very tender and I could hear to making a racket. I had a fitful night’s sleep. The first glass of water I had this morning felt a bit heavy in my stomach. And I struggled to eat a single slice of toast 2 hours later. Things have since improved but I’m eating like a sparrow today … not such a bad thing I guess!
I want to thank Em for being a champion. She heard me hurl and audibly wince in pain with hiccups for an extened time but kept talking to me all the same. She stayed on the phone as long as it took … it made me feel that I was not alone.
And to Jaap … who got a frantic text at 9pm (11pm in the Netherlands where Jaap resides) on a Saturday night. He very kindly called almost immediately to talk me through what was happening … and offered me reassurance. He also shot me an email about foods that can reek havoc with the band and two text messages today to check up on me.
And of course, to Rob … who was quietly freaked out but managed to reassure me that it would pass. Who was the first to check up on me this morning. He admitted how helpless he feels when I have chokes and asked ever so nicely if I would cut my food up into very small pieces in Dubai … and in essence, not choke! LOL!
Here’s to 6 long hours and one very hard learned lesson!
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