My scarring lungs have jumped to the next higher level of limitations and my health care professionals have all helped me get the additional equipment I am needing. They have strongly suggested I enroll in palliative care at the local hospital home health. This gives Bruce resources and a support system to call upon when needed.
You see, within the past couple of weeks after that thief broke into my body and stole most of my energy, both Bruce and I have had to make some major changes in our daily routines. I now require twice as much oxygen 24/7 as I did before. After two weeks of having to depend upon Bruce and a wheelchair, I am just now beginning to be able to walk around the house a little. I sleep ten to twelve hours per day and spend the rest of the time sitting quietly reading, doing handwork, or praying.
Our only social engagements these days are doctors’ appointments and Bruce spends much of his time monitoring my oxygen supply, picking up my prescriptions and running errands. And oh what a God-send he is! He is not only my “go fer...” but also my cook, bottlewasher, housekeeper, oxygen expert, personal care assistant, my emotional rock of stability, my companion, and through it all, my best friend.
It’s an enormous adjustment to make. I often feel like the ball in a fast-paced ping-pong game: a fragile little object batted first one way toward sadness and loss, and then the other way, back toward gratitude and thanksgiving. I have no idea how long the game will last - that part of the game God keeps secret! - or whether there will someday be one hefty smash that will shatter my little self!
That game, however, has no losers. When my “ping-pong ball” life finally runs out of energy and breath, I will then be freed of all oxygen tubes and tanks, wheelchair and assistive devices, and limitations! “Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, free at last.” And that’s unanimous, too!
16 February 2019 - mshr
