Caregiving for Me

Two weeks ago I came down with a monster cold. It was so bad even the first day, with my wimpy lungs, that I went to see the doctor for some additional medicines. Even though I had already started using my nebulizer and cough expectorant, I knew that prednisone and even an antibiotic would probably be added. And it was.

I still went home with the fear that this cold would not end without a call to 911 when my coughing spasms would turn into a choking episode. With less than half of my lungs functioning due to a deformed chest cavity (scoliosis), I just don't have the pulmonary power needed to cough up phlegm or even a tiny piece of food or water that might get lodged in my windpipe.

Three days later after an intense coughing spell, I had the phone in my hand almost ready to punch the 911, before I started to get my breath back. A week after that I actually did dial the 911 when I started to choke again, but told the paramedics I was alright and they didn't have to come.

The very next morning I had to call 911, when I couldn't get any air due to the phlegm closing off my breathing. Even though I had thankfully started breathing by the time they got there, and was using my nebulizer, they insisted I needed to go in to ER. Still in my nightgown, I thought to ask for my purse as we went out the door.

The worse part of my ambulance ride was when I looked in my purse and didn't see my car keys! Sometimes I just leave them lying by the purse and sometimes they are in. I was terrified that Dean would get in the car and drive himself to the hospital! He would be OK driving even though he hasn't been a licensed driver for fifteen years, but would he actually be able to find his way to the hospital without getting lost? I doubted it.

My cell phone was in my purse, however, so I managed to call my daughter when I got to the hospital. Bless her heart, her dad had called her about what had happened, just as she was getting off her night shift and gotten almost asleep. But she said she was on the way to the hospital. I tried to divert her to our house first, but she was determined to be by my side and was almost there.

The happy ending was that after a few tests and they didn't see pneumonia or any sign of infection, I was allowed to go home before noon, with another round of meds to get filled at the drug store. I was so thankful that my daughter was there to take me home, and the house was still standing when we got there, although Dean had been pretty shook up over it all.

I had assumed that he would go ahead and take his van to his day program that day, but he hadn't been able to get his socks on, so had stayed home. How could this man have taken care of himself, if I had been admitted to the hospital? I hope I never find out. But it was comforting to know that my daughter and son-in-law are here to step up to the plate and help. I even have a nephew fifty miles away, who would have dropped everything to come, had I needed him.

One thing that brought a smile was when Dean and I went to church this weekend, and they handed him a microphone to share a prayer request. He asked that people pray that his wife not have another coughing "spree". Yep, that described it pretty well. Some people have shopping sprees; I have coughing sprees.

I was indeed thankful that prayers did see us both through this eventful week. But as soon as I feel better, I'm going shopping instead.

my "at home" hospital

Choking

The first question Dean's nurse had for him today was "Have you been chewing your food?" Then I remembered last week that Dean almost choked on a piece of meat from his "Meals on Wheels" while she was here. We both heard him say that his meat was too tough to cut, but we kept on with our conversation till he stood up suddenly with a scared expression on his face and we knew instantly that he was choking.

Even though Carla, the nurse, is a good foot shorter than my tall husband, I'm sure she'd have stood on a chair to give him the Heimlich any second if she had to. But he instinctively pounded his own chest and up came a gigantic piece of meat. It was a miracle it came up. And we were all shaken and thankful that the emergency was averted.

One of the first things that Dean said after it was over was that now he knows how I feel when I have breathing episodes and we've had to call paramedics. I said yes, that's exactly how it feels. It's pretty traumatic when you can't get air.

God breathed into us the breath of life. Our breath can't be underrated. Each one is a gift of God. I feel sorry for those individuals who feel they have to supplement their air with tobacco smoke. They are poisoning the air that God gave them to breathe. I know it's a hard addiction to break, but it's also worth every effort. Recognizing the true source of help in quitting should be easy though. If God gave us our breath in the first place, He must have an interest in restoring it to us. As a woman on oxygen myself and seeing my dad die of lung cancer and emphysema, I encourage everyone to keep trying as many times as it takes to quit the habit.

Becoming More Chewsy

Twice today I almost choked on some food. They weren't bad episodes, but definitely a call for me to slow down my eating, think while I'm eating, and chew, chew, chew. With my lung power so weak, that is one of my greatest fears. I can't cough up things from my "windpipe" like most people can. So, I can really have a dangerous choking episode on almost anything, including things just floating in the air.

I've lost track how many times people have had to call 911 for me. I've never actually passed out, but the last time my daughter said my lips were blue. It usually happens when I'm in the throes of a chest cold. Hence my dread of getting a cold.

My caution with eating is similar to how I must view life. Just take it one bite at a time. Don't bite off more than I can chew, so they say. And the best part is that's how God delivers our future. One day at a time, and sometimes moment by moment. I can also testify that He's faster than any paramedic. He's even faster than the person calling 911.

I've just talked myself out of my greatest fear. And here's a verse for it: "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." II Timothy 1:7

P.S. I still think I'll chew better tomorrow.