For Every Three Questions We Get One Answer

One week later.

Last time we updated, Jacqui was coming out of heavy sedation and the Drs were trying to find a balance between the sedation and pain relief - well, mission accomplished!  On Thursday, she came out of the deep sedation and they did manage to relieve the pain with yet another new medication and since then she has been more back to her old self.  

Our hope was to then get her home.  But because of the results of the latest CT scan, the medical team is very reluctant to send her home.  Her situation is such that although as always, she looks and seems just fine, those darn tumours are very determined and just continue to grow unchecked.  As mentioned in the last post, the CT scan shows she has only a sliver of lung capacity left and they are concerned (and somewhat certain) that something catastrophic could happen suddenly again and they don't want her to have to risk not getting proper care immediately should this happen.  

They recommended a Hospice - and Jacqui was able to move into one closer to home on Tuesday - as she left the hospital, Drs, nurses and aides took turns to come in to say goodbye, wish her well and give hugs.

She is calling her space at the Hospice her condo in an old folks home - and she wasted no time "Jacquifying" it - Homesense is just across the street.  Although medically it is where she should be, she just seems so out of place.  She is the youngest by decades and every new staff member that walks in assumes I'm the patient - so either she's looking really good or I'm really looking like I need to be there - yikes.  It is much quieter, private and she can basically come and go as she pleases.  The food is better, the wifi is currently iffy, but she is coaching them in getting it up to her standards.  But as always, everyone loves her there and she is making her mark yet again.

So that's all well and good, but the fact remains that things are changing -
it's apparent when we bring her home and she has trouble going up and down the stairs
it's apparent when she puts on her Lulu Lemons and they are baggy
it's apparent when it's hard for her to eat because of the way the tumours are pushing on her oesophagus
it's apparent when she is out of breath and has to rely on her oxygen tank
it's apparent when she is too tired to see a friend - very apparent
it's apparent when she says "I just don't feel very well"
it's apparent that we have no idea what is next.

So this is my life,

and I want you to know that

I am both happy and sad

& I'm still trying to figure out

how that could be

*perks of being a wallflower