Rock, hard place, ciggies?
Mar. 26th, 2007 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
baasheepIt was a tough day today. We had a meeting with the palliative care nurse and a social worker. Both were wonderful and able to answer all our questions. Dad is going back tommorow to meet with them again. So far it's been the subordinates, the people who have to go check with their bosses who have been the most helpful. The bosses on the other hand...not so much. When Dad had taken Mam down to have her cigarette I spoke to the social worker and when I had finished up with her I was a little upset. Not at her rather what we were discussing like how when Mam deteriorates more she might need someone to help her wash and dress etc. Its brings home just how little time she might have left y'know.
I was sitting down beside the bed in my own world when in walks the Professor who looks after the ward. He was doing his afternoon rounds and had a whole bunch of med students trailing behind him. Anyways he marches up to and asked where Mam was. When I said out with Dad having a cigarette he snorted and said all of that would have to stop. When Mam comes home shes going to need to be on oxygen full time and they won't let her home with the oxygen if she still smokes.
Compressed gas + lit cigarette=big bang.
I plainly stated that she isn't going to give up cigarettes. He then said he would not prescribe the oxygen for home use and when she came home she would probably be dead within a week without it. What the fuck??? He also asked just how serious I knew my mothers condition was. I replied that I knew she was terminally ill and had a few monthes at best. He then came out with a little gem, "the situation is very grim, the clouds over you are very black". No fucking shit sherlock. Seriously that is what he said.
Then placing a (patronising I thought) hand over mine told me they had ruled out chemo as Mam was quite weak. I told them after talking with my Dad we had also come to the same conclusion, that we would not prolong her life if she is going to be in pain and not able to move. That seemed to shake him out of his doctor knows best routine. I know I haven't studied fifteen years to become a doctor, I know I don't understand what half the medical terms mean but I am not stupid. After the diagnosis was confirmed I came home and spent hours pouring over the internet and books trying to learn all about pancreatic cancer and any possible treatments. People who try to talk down to me piss me off. I also told him that if Mam didn't want to take any of it in, just how sick she was that was her choice and myself and Dad would appreciate if they didn't try to hammer home the point every time they did their rounds as it just upset her. We want to keep her happy and if that means only focussing on the present like she is then thats fine by us. Again the "prof" seemed a bit unsure of how to respond.
It was a hard day and by that time I was worn out, when T.d (the lovely doc who gave us the initial diagnosis) gently said they were sorry there was nothing more they could do and was there anything I wanted to say when she said that it just got too tough for me and I dissolved in tears. I have never seen someone move so fast to get out of the vicinity of a crying female as I saw the prof and his med students move. I had to pull myself together because as they were running out Mam was being wheeled back full of the joys because she got her nicotine hit. I told Dad we needed to talk later then turned the attention back to Mam.
I'm so fucking tired of having to be a "tower of strength". Thats what people keep telling me I am. I feel like I should get a cape and have that attached to the back of it. I'm not a tower of anything, I'm just trying to deal with the situation the best way I know how. Knowledge however unpleasent is power and I don't get people who say I shouldn't do any research because it might upset me. Imagine if I hadn't and had the pleasure of talking to Professor doom and gloom unprepared. Never mind tears I probably would have been wailing. I'm dealing with the practicalities because Dad is having a hard time coming to terms with everything thats happened. I think there is a huge difference between how his generation deals with authority figures and how mine do. I have no problems asking questions, interrupting and generally making a nusciance of myself to get the answers. Dad on the otherhand would just accept anything that was said to him. Even with the social worker today it was me asking about any possible benefits we can claim since one of us will have to be home with her. Dad didn't seem to understand thats what shes there for. He is going up to meet with her again tommorow and I am giving him a list of questions to ask. I need him to step up for this one. I'm too tired to heckle and interrupt to get the answers. Hopefully the questions should help.
Been a tough day, bed is calling..
I was sitting down beside the bed in my own world when in walks the Professor who looks after the ward. He was doing his afternoon rounds and had a whole bunch of med students trailing behind him. Anyways he marches up to and asked where Mam was. When I said out with Dad having a cigarette he snorted and said all of that would have to stop. When Mam comes home shes going to need to be on oxygen full time and they won't let her home with the oxygen if she still smokes.
Compressed gas + lit cigarette=big bang.
I plainly stated that she isn't going to give up cigarettes. He then said he would not prescribe the oxygen for home use and when she came home she would probably be dead within a week without it. What the fuck??? He also asked just how serious I knew my mothers condition was. I replied that I knew she was terminally ill and had a few monthes at best. He then came out with a little gem, "the situation is very grim, the clouds over you are very black". No fucking shit sherlock. Seriously that is what he said.
Then placing a (patronising I thought) hand over mine told me they had ruled out chemo as Mam was quite weak. I told them after talking with my Dad we had also come to the same conclusion, that we would not prolong her life if she is going to be in pain and not able to move. That seemed to shake him out of his doctor knows best routine. I know I haven't studied fifteen years to become a doctor, I know I don't understand what half the medical terms mean but I am not stupid. After the diagnosis was confirmed I came home and spent hours pouring over the internet and books trying to learn all about pancreatic cancer and any possible treatments. People who try to talk down to me piss me off. I also told him that if Mam didn't want to take any of it in, just how sick she was that was her choice and myself and Dad would appreciate if they didn't try to hammer home the point every time they did their rounds as it just upset her. We want to keep her happy and if that means only focussing on the present like she is then thats fine by us. Again the "prof" seemed a bit unsure of how to respond.
It was a hard day and by that time I was worn out, when T.d (the lovely doc who gave us the initial diagnosis) gently said they were sorry there was nothing more they could do and was there anything I wanted to say when she said that it just got too tough for me and I dissolved in tears. I have never seen someone move so fast to get out of the vicinity of a crying female as I saw the prof and his med students move. I had to pull myself together because as they were running out Mam was being wheeled back full of the joys because she got her nicotine hit. I told Dad we needed to talk later then turned the attention back to Mam.
I'm so fucking tired of having to be a "tower of strength". Thats what people keep telling me I am. I feel like I should get a cape and have that attached to the back of it. I'm not a tower of anything, I'm just trying to deal with the situation the best way I know how. Knowledge however unpleasent is power and I don't get people who say I shouldn't do any research because it might upset me. Imagine if I hadn't and had the pleasure of talking to Professor doom and gloom unprepared. Never mind tears I probably would have been wailing. I'm dealing with the practicalities because Dad is having a hard time coming to terms with everything thats happened. I think there is a huge difference between how his generation deals with authority figures and how mine do. I have no problems asking questions, interrupting and generally making a nusciance of myself to get the answers. Dad on the otherhand would just accept anything that was said to him. Even with the social worker today it was me asking about any possible benefits we can claim since one of us will have to be home with her. Dad didn't seem to understand thats what shes there for. He is going up to meet with her again tommorow and I am giving him a list of questions to ask. I need him to step up for this one. I'm too tired to heckle and interrupt to get the answers. Hopefully the questions should help.
Been a tough day, bed is calling..
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-27 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-27 02:47 pm (UTC)Next time someone treats/speaks to you like that, in your sweetest voice, I would say exactly what you just said, "Sir, I understand that you are a doctor and I am not, but I am also not an idiot, and don't enjoy being patronized. I am a human being going through a lot of pain right now; bear with me."
PM me if you ever want to talk, ok?
no subject
Date: 2007-03-29 04:06 am (UTC)