Pneumonia X 3?
    I'm not really sure if Mom's developing pneumonia, again, but it's possible. Aside from being very tired and more hazy than usual, lately, today she was even weaker than she has been. As well, throughout the day she's seemed to be developing that "thick tongued" speech pattern that tends to characterize bouts of illness, especially pneumonia. I decided to take her temperature this evening, out of curiosity, since it's been running normal, for her, around 97.6, for days on end. Sure enough, at 2239 it was 98.4, although it dropped to 98.0 a little after midnight.
    Remembering my previous decision to ask her if she wants to be treated "the next time" she develops pneumonia, I initiated a discussion about this before Mom retired tonight. I explained my observations and told her that I'm thinking she might be developing pneumonia, again.
    Her immediate response was dismissive: "Oh, I don't think so." Her eyes glittered denial.
    "Well, Mom, you might be right, I might be wrong. But I'm telling you this just in case..."
    "Just in case what?!?" Her eyebrows arched.
    "You know, on Hospice, you don't have to be treated for anything if you don't want it. Everyone's on Hospice because they have an underlying illness that isn't being treated, anyway. In your case it's your lung cancer. Sometimes, because of the underlying illness, a person's quality of life becomes so poor that they'd rather not be treated for other illnesses like pneumonia because, well, frankly, pneumonia, in particular, allows for a much easier death than some other conditions."
    She nodded. Although I was a little surprised, she was following me with keen interest."
    "So, you know, last time you had pneumonia I was unprepared for them asking me if you wanted to be treated. I went ahead and answered on your behalf and said, yes, let's give you the antibiotics. And, you got better, really fast."
    She was nodding.
    "So, this time I want to be prepared. If it turns out that pneumonia is likely, Hospice will ask if you want antibiotics in order to try to get better. Do you?"
    She looked at me as though I was losing my mind. "Well, of course!"
    I mocked a physical back-off and grinned. "Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure you and I are on the same page. So, you want to be treated this time, if you have pneumonia."
    She reared. "Well, wait a minute. I don't want to go into the hospital! I don't want everyone poking around at me to see what's wrong! No!"
    Oops! I used the word "treatment" instead of "antibiotics" when I restated her position, I realized. For Mom, each word has a completely different context. "Oh, no, I get that, Mom, and so does Hospice. They won't put you in the hospital. If the antibiotics don't work, we'll just ride it out the best we can. No hospitals. No poking. No instruments of torture. I promise."
    "Oh, they'll work, all right," she said.
    I couldn't help it. A small smile escaped my lips. She's probably right, at this point.
    "I can't imagine why someone wouldn't want antibiotics," she wondered, after a few moments of thought.
    "Well, Mom, everyone on Hospice has something that can eventually kill them. Sometimes, those deaths can be pretty hard and painful. Especially if the person's quality of life is very, very poor, it's not uncommon for someone to refuse treatment for an opportunistic infection rather than continue experiencing such a poor quality of life."
    "Well," she declared, "there's nothing wrong with the quality of my life! I'd say it's very good!"
    "Yes it is," I agreed. Yes it is, dadgummit, which is an expletive her father used to use that she has lately resurrected frequently and with glee.
    So, I've got my marching orders, for the near future, anyway.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 01:47   email  this post