Friday October 7 (continued)
Adam called for an ambulance transport at 6:00 Friday
evening. I was relieved after having made the decision to not proceed with the blood transfusion, but anxious to get Gram back to ManorCare. I had no idea how long it would
take. I was emotionally exhausted; it had been a long day already, so I hoped it wouldn't take long. Gram
was in a fetal position and resting mostly. I’m not sure if she was sleeping
because her eyes remained half-open. She was having periods of restlessness
followed by calm quietness.
We waited.
In the meantime, I called Keri from Heartland Hospice.
Since we had pushed the Heartland team aside when we decided to pursue the
blood transfusion, we hadn’t yet signed the papers to engage them. Keri was
patient with us and she graciously agreed to meet us at the hospital while we waited for the transport.
Michelle and Aubrey came over, too. It was around 10:00 when Keri arrived. We all sat in the waiting area of the Emergency Room at Passavant and for the first twenty minutes, did nothing but tell stories and reminisce. No papers were signed yet. We laughed as we shared memories of Gram and times gone by. Keri seemed interested in hearing them and touched by the love we were all sharing. These moments- this experience- seemed to signal our shared acceptance of the decision and what was about to happen with Gram.
For those few moments, I swear we were the only people in the whole world. I was totally unaware of anything going on around us. It was like the world outside of those chairs we sat in was frozen in time. We all seemed to know now that Gram wasn’t going to surprise us this time.
Michelle and Aubrey came over, too. It was around 10:00 when Keri arrived. We all sat in the waiting area of the Emergency Room at Passavant and for the first twenty minutes, did nothing but tell stories and reminisce. No papers were signed yet. We laughed as we shared memories of Gram and times gone by. Keri seemed interested in hearing them and touched by the love we were all sharing. These moments- this experience- seemed to signal our shared acceptance of the decision and what was about to happen with Gram.
For those few moments, I swear we were the only people in the whole world. I was totally unaware of anything going on around us. It was like the world outside of those chairs we sat in was frozen in time. We all seemed to know now that Gram wasn’t going to surprise us this time.
I signed the papers. We would begin the hospice process
as soon as Gram got back to ManorCare. Since we assumed, at that point, it
would be after midnight, the agreement was effective the next day, October 8.
Technically, it was in about ninety minutes.
When Keri left, I checked in with the nurse. Adam’s shift
had ended and a new, not-as-friendly nurse appeared. He told us that
Gram wasn’t a priority for ambulance transport and it could be a while. They
had, however, contacted their service of last resort and that service was providing an arrival
time of 3:30 am. “It might be earlier or later,” the nurse said. I was so frustrated. If
Gram would have been just a little stronger, I would have carried her to my
truck and drove her myself. My biggest fear was that she would die in that
hospital. I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted her to be among familiar
surroundings.
We left the hospital at 11:30 pm. I asked two nurses to call me
when the transport arrived. In turn, I needed to call Keri and have her nurse, Tonya, meet me at
ManorCare when Gram got back so we could begin treatment.
Saturday October 8
Saturday October 8
I checked my cell phone Saturday morning when I woke up,
wondering why no one from the hospital had called me. Certainly she wouldn’t still be there, would she? I thought.
Nothing would surprise me, given the way health care works. I didn’t get
a secure feeling Friday night that they had Gram’s or my best
interests at heart.
I could feel the anger welling up inside me despite my
best efforts to suppress it. My blood began to boil as I thought, She’s either still there or they released
her and didn’t call me. Either scenario pissed me off. I got ready and
drove to the hospital. I became anxious on top of the anger. I trembled, thinking of Gram sitting in that cold hospital room alone for all of
those hours. Or being shuffled around and transported without me there to
ensure she was cared for properly. Poor
Gram! Was she afraid being transported alone? Did she know she was dying? How must that have felt being alone with strangers transporting her and not
hearing my voice or seeing me (if she could)? These thoughts consumed me as I drove.
“I’m here for Elizabeth Berberich,
room nine,” I said when I walked up to the registration desk at Passavant. “Who?”
The young, day shift girl said to me, totally unaware of anything that had
transpired the night before. “Tell me you sent her back without calling me!” I
trembled as I spoke and I was loud. “She is dying and you made her last hours
on this earth miserable!” Thankfully, there was no one in the waiting room and the only
other person nearby was the security guard who checked me in through the metal
detector. No one said a word. It only took a few seconds for me to realize it
wasn’t that girl’s fault. She had no idea what had happened. I felt bad for
screaming at her and I apologized as I turned to walk out. “It’s not your
fault. It’s the hospital’s.” As I walked out, I muttered, “Bastards!”
I got in my truck and called Keri
from Heartland as I made my way back to ManorCare. “Ok, I’ll have Tonya
meet you there.” I wondered what I was about to walk into.
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