Stamina

Tuesday 15 May

Time and again I marvel at the resilience of your friend.

Take today on our trip to the hospital and back. At ten to seven in the morning, the nurse rings the doorbell. She comes for her morning routine, washing Lara, upping her meds as necessary, helping Lara to put her clothes on, and leaves after 45 minutes. By that time I have gotten up, showered and shaved and prepared breakfast. We sit down and take our time.

At nine fifteen, the ambulanciers arrive to lift Lara from her bed into a chair, unhook her from the oxygen concentrator, hook her up to an oxygen cylinder, take her fluids from the Baxter and get her in an elevator down. On the groundfloor they hoist her up out of the chair and put her onto a strectcher, then wheel her outside to a waiting ambulance, strap her in for the ride and with nauseating speed wind our way through morning traffic, sirens ablaze.

Half an hour later they lift her off the stretcher and put her in the waiting hospital bed. Then immediately the nurse comes in an takes a blood sample. Followed by transfusions, a conversation with the doctor (not very uplifting), until it is five thirty and the last drop of red blood cells have disappeared inside of her. Meanwhile, I have eaten her lunch for she is not appetized.

Then the ambulanciers come, lift her manually off the bed onto the stretcher, through rush-hour traffic (making both of us puky), onto the chair and back onto her bed by six thirty.

By then she is truly exhausted, but she has taken all the onslaught with an equanimity I find truly impressive. I would have gotten either very angry or very despondent. Her absorption capacity is seemingly limitless. Still she will need all of tomorrow to recupe.

They strip away everything that is a core value, she says. Intimacy, privacy, independence. So you eke out something basic that still matters to you. Like taking care of your bodily functions on your own. That is your last resort. The absolute no touch area. For as long as you can hold out.

Next appointment scheduled for Tuesday next week - if she makes it. The thought of having to do this three times a week is disheartening to her. It takes effectively six days out of her life, diminishing her quality of life (such as it is) commensurately. And for what, she exclaims? True enough. Once a week is my max, she says.