Monday, June 2, 2014
And then this happened.
About twenty minutes into the wait for morphine early this morning, I called hospice. Absolutely not acceptable, the on-call nurse told me when she called me back. I told her I wanted to take D home. That the facility, while okay, was not stellar. The twenty-five minute wait for morphine on the heels of the dream was what I needed to full-out advocate for a change. Besides, I had told D I would get him to my place, and I wanted to keep my promise to him. The on-call nurse from hospice was encouraging. When the regular hospice nurse came to evaluate and ask him if he felt up to being moved, he nodded and smiled, and a look of relief settled over him.
It was a topsy-turvy day filled with effort (Thank you, hospice nurses), but D made it to my house around 3:30. His bed and equipment were there waiting. After dinner, his daughter settled in on the couch, while his long-time friend L and I chatted with the nurse and each other.
This house is pretty big, but it's so full of love that the walls are bulging.