Lots and Lots of Sleep

The pages are flying off my daily calendar like a cheap 1950's movie. More than two weeks have passed since they sent Jim home. The first ten days were filled with daily trips back in to see the doctor, visits from the Physical Therapist,  appointments galore.   But it has quieted down to every four days or so, which is a blessing. Overall his health is good, in that his blood counts and other tests indicate a lessening of the myeloma. His blood count shows a strong replacement of the killed cells with new cells.  Platelet count is inching up, which is what we want.

The biggest problem to deal with is the fact that he managed to lose ten pounds in one week. His weight is, at this minute, its lowest since about sixth grade. This leads, of course to several ancillary problems. He is always cold, although keeping him sequestered under an electric blanket, in a room with a heater, has made things easier. Perhaps the most noticeable thing is that he cannot ever seem to get enough sleep.  This avid talker on subjects that interested him, is now quite silent.  Chemo is life-saving, but it takes as much as it gives, really.   It is not uncommon for people to develop what is affectionately called Chemo-brain.   This is  manifested by confusion, forgetfulness, inability to concentrate,  to assimilate information and organize it.  Heck, I've had that for 20 years!   But no, with Jim it is most visible in his hesitancy to agree with anything, to move forward, to consent.  And of course my patience level is nil, right about now.

This brings me to a thought I tossed around en route to the hospital one day. Ten or fifteen years ago,  I had a dear friend who was a candidate for a lung transplant.  As part of being on the list, she needed to put down two names who would be her caregivers.  Her husband was first, and they asked if I would be second.  WIthout hesitation, I nodded an emphatic, little-thought-out "yes!"  It seemed like a no-brainer. Who wouldn't?    I had NO idea, nor did they, what kind of commitment I was blithely agreeing to.  How many hours would this take away from my job, my kids, my home, my husband?  What would be my responsibilities?   How much reflection should I give to how I would feel dealing with her possible depression, or her potential demise during my watch?   Would her spouse feel his role was to care for her overnight and expect me to be there each and every day before he went to work?  What if I wanted to quit?  How could I ever do that?

Often, we are led by our best intentions.  We are all too ready to jump first and think later.  I say this, because having been caregiver to Jim, I understand better what the commitment meant.   It is an enormous undertaking, and without giving it a lot of thought, and considering the parameters and ramifications of the job, your good intentions could become a loathsome burden.  That must be balanced against the good you can reasonably do.  Only then can you offer yourself in such a selfless role.