Hector's Health
I got an email this morning from Sharon saying that Hector was back in the hospital and it didn’t look good. I called the hospital and got his sister-in-law, Nancy, on the line. She didn’t sound devastated and I hoped that was a good sign.
After lunch I dropped Amanda and the kids off at Kindermusic and drove on to Exeter hospital. Once I figured out that the North and South buildings are completely different (Main entrance is in North, but to get to patients rooms you need to take the elevator up to the main causeway on floor 3, which in South is floor 1, so that you can take a separate set of elevators ...?) I found Hector asleep in his shared room.
The fellow next to him was explaining a recipe to his visitor, and looking at Hector I wished that he could be that interested in food. He’s beyond the heroine chic look and has gone on to concentration camp. Seeing his bare arms I imagined the nurses must have a bad time getting a blood pressure cuff on him. I stood and watched him for a few minutes before hearing my name. I turned to see Sharon standing next to a much taller woman whom she introduced as her sister Nancy, same as I spoke with earlier. Now that I think back on it, they didn’t look much alike.
Both Sharon and Nancy started fussing Hector to wake him, which surprised me —I figured that sleep must be a blessing to him — but they got his eyes open long enough to see me. He was so weak that he was always drifting off. He never spoke unless answering a question, most of which came from Nancy. She might be a nurse, because she gently prompted him about how comfortable he was: were his pillows too high, was his neck craned. She learned that the skin on his back was try and after getting some lotion she turned him and rubbed him down. I think I saw the shadow of a smile on smile on his face while she did this, and I found it sobering that this was a true comfort to a dying man.
Sharon told me that he doctors give it two days to two months. His kidneys can’t take anymore. I offered word that Amanda had given me about the kidneys recovering after chemo stops, but Sharon said that after almost four years of it his are done. She was able to say this without tears, and even tell me that she was going to tell their two sons tonight that their daddy isn’t going to get better this time. I found it sobering that an ending, even this one, is a comfort to the wife of a dying man. Had I endured what she has endured I’m sure I would find it a comfort too. I pray their boys will see it that way.
After lunch I dropped Amanda and the kids off at Kindermusic and drove on to Exeter hospital. Once I figured out that the North and South buildings are completely different (Main entrance is in North, but to get to patients rooms you need to take the elevator up to the main causeway on floor 3, which in South is floor 1, so that you can take a separate set of elevators ...?) I found Hector asleep in his shared room.
The fellow next to him was explaining a recipe to his visitor, and looking at Hector I wished that he could be that interested in food. He’s beyond the heroine chic look and has gone on to concentration camp. Seeing his bare arms I imagined the nurses must have a bad time getting a blood pressure cuff on him. I stood and watched him for a few minutes before hearing my name. I turned to see Sharon standing next to a much taller woman whom she introduced as her sister Nancy, same as I spoke with earlier. Now that I think back on it, they didn’t look much alike.
Both Sharon and Nancy started fussing Hector to wake him, which surprised me —I figured that sleep must be a blessing to him — but they got his eyes open long enough to see me. He was so weak that he was always drifting off. He never spoke unless answering a question, most of which came from Nancy. She might be a nurse, because she gently prompted him about how comfortable he was: were his pillows too high, was his neck craned. She learned that the skin on his back was try and after getting some lotion she turned him and rubbed him down. I think I saw the shadow of a smile on smile on his face while she did this, and I found it sobering that this was a true comfort to a dying man.
Sharon told me that he doctors give it two days to two months. His kidneys can’t take anymore. I offered word that Amanda had given me about the kidneys recovering after chemo stops, but Sharon said that after almost four years of it his are done. She was able to say this without tears, and even tell me that she was going to tell their two sons tonight that their daddy isn’t going to get better this time. I found it sobering that an ending, even this one, is a comfort to the wife of a dying man. Had I endured what she has endured I’m sure I would find it a comfort too. I pray their boys will see it that way.
posted by Christopher A. Dellario at 4:40 PM
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