Today may mark a new experience. I spoke to my wife last night (she called me, quite unusual of late). During the conversation, she confirmed that she wants to come home. Today. So, soon after the regular workday begins for the rehabilitation center, I will contact them to learn what steps I must take to make that happen. I had plans to make changes to the physical layout of furniture in my house before my wife’s return, but I do not have the necessary time nor the required physical labor to make those changes, so they will have to wait. And, of course, I’ll need to make arrangements for assistance on an ongoing basis. Before I launch into this, though, I will double check with my wife to make sure last night’s conversation was not an aberration. So much to do. But it doesn’t all have to happen at once.
As much as I look forward to her return, I am concerned whether I will be able to care for her the way she needs to be looked after. The rehab center has no confidence it can draw blood when necessary; how will I know when to draw blood and how to get it done? Will I have to send her to the hospital in an ambulance if she needs a blood draw? How will I know if she needs medical attention? Before her most recent trip to the hospital, I had no idea she was in such danger; how can I prevent that from happening again? I don’t just feel fragile about this whole process, I feel grossly incompetent. I think I need to talk to the palliative care doctor I met during my wife’s most recent hospital visit; he may be able and willing to offer good advice.
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I read an article yesterday in the Santiago Times (a Chilean English-language newspaper) that piqued my interest. The article, originally published on November 5, covers a segment of the work of Dr. Andres Herane-Vives, a respected Chilean psychiatrist. Dr. Herane-Vives and his team have created a device that extracts ear wax and measures the levels of the hormone, cortisol. Certain aspects of measured cortisol seem to correlate with levels of depression, so accurate measurement of cortisol could be used to diagnose and help direct treatment levels for depression.
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The change in circumstances brought about by my wife’s desire to return home may bring about some additional changes in my calendar. I am scheduled for an appointment with my oncologist on Monday and an appointment in Little Rock for a 72K mile vehicle service on Tuesday. Fortunately, today’s expected telemedicine follow-up visit with my surgeon’s staff was pushed off a week because the films from the CT scan earlier this week won’t be in their hands until early next week. My plan to end my procrastination on 2021 Medicare drug coverage before the December 7 deadline, though, has been thrown into turmoil. That’s the price I pay for putting things off. Dimwit!
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When I read assessments that call China or Iran or Russia or name-your-country “the greatest threats to America,” the hair on the back of my neck stands up. No, I say to myself, Americans constitute the greatest threat to America. Our failure to recognize our own faults and to then correct them represents the greatest threat. And our attitude of always looking for an enemy and, if we can’t find it, creating one represents the greatest threat. And our refusal to attempt to build alliances with countries whose cultures differ radically from our own represents the greatest threat. It’s as if we are not as secure in our own skins as we claim to be. It’s as if we need to demonstrate our strength so we can deflect attention from our weakness.
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I should be busily preparing for my wife’s return home. Instead, I am writing and reading and drinking coffee. Despite my sense that I need to be getting so many of those things accomplished, I think my need to calm myself may outweigh the need to be productive. As usual, I did nothing to alleviate the tight muscles in my shoulders and neck. This morning, my shoulder muscles, especially, feel like braided wire stretched close to the breaking point. That’s why I need to sit and relax and enjoy my coffee and my reading and my outpouring of whatever is on my mind. That might mitigate the tightness of those wire braids. I certainly hope so.
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I wonder what caused my wife to say she wants to come home? Did my words during yesterday’s visit, spoken through tears I could not hide, prompt her to say it? I told her I really, really wanted her home. Did I give my wishes more weight than what she needs? Sometimes, she says she thinks she is getting stronger, though I see no real evidence of that. Other times, she says she is not sure or she doesn’t feel like she is. But have we given it enough time? I do not know. And I do not know how much therapy she is getting. Is it adequate and it is its frequency enough? I do not know. I know I am not equipped to ensure she gets proper therapy in the right quantity at home. But therapy may not be what she needs; she may need human contact more than she needs therapy. Ach!
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Enough whining. I have things to do and little time to do them.
