Friday May 20th 2011
Im sitting in the semi-darkness that is my daughter Noelles bedroom. There is light from the hallway filtering in through the open door, and we can see the sun begin to poke its way through the open curtains. There is a rooster crowing, its not mine I promise. The Hospice nurse and I are talking about how the latest increase in pain medication didnt seem to help very much. It is difficult to be sure, because Noelle has been unable to communicate for three days. The nurse has increased the dose on Noelles pain pump three times over the last 12 or so hours. It is becoming harder and harder to keep the pain anywhere close to reasonable. The nurse and I agree that using something to help calm Noelle down would be helpful. Since Ativan is on Noelles med list, thats what we use. After 20 minutes, it is clear that the first dose helped, but Noelle is still in a lot of pain.
We brought Noelle home from the hospital on Saturday, she was in pain, and very weak but her spirits were high. She was determined to spend a few days at my house to get better and then go visit her mother, about a 90 minute drive. Sunday was a normal day, I spent it pushing Ensure and applesauce she watched the food network. Monday the Home Health Nurse came by and did an assessment, so far so good.
Tuesday morning Noelle was more obstinate than usual about taking her 6 am pills. I checked back every 30 minutes or so, but by now its 8:30 and shes not taken them. I cajole her into chasing them down with a small cup of milk. Through the day we continue the routine that Noelle and I have polished over the last two 1/2 years. She watches TV, I check on her every 90 minutes. Today is different, shes refusing to drink and wont take her meds. By the afternoon, Im concerned enough to page the home health nurse and she stops by. The transition to Hospice is necessary, which brings us back to this Friday morning.
The nurse has just given Noelle a second dose of Ativan. Im talking to Noelle, telling her that Im going to be ok and that she does not need to worry. The nurse and I comment at the same time that it really looks like the pain is residing. You can see it leave her face. I have been holding her hand for so long that I had forgotten, until I feel her grip strengthen. Her eyes open, and she looks right at me and manages to find a way to smile through all that pain. And at that moment, when our eyes met, I could feel her energy leave the palm of her hand.
I know she was holding on in order to say good bye to me.
Good Bye buddy.
Noelle Gretchen Atwood passed away at 6:30 am on Friday the 20th of May, 2011. She was 23.
Peace,
Dave