Waiting

 

I'm not good at sitting and waiting. And then wondering and waiting.

This morning Rich told me his oatmeal was bad, it didn't taste right. I poured him some of my strong coffee and he sipped it. I asked how it was. He said it didn't taste right either.

Normally if I don't add water to the pot and make the coffee much weaker, he has a fit. He ate and drank his coffee, took his meds, and I approached him about seeing a doctor. 

I told him that his returning fever and the lack of taste and possibly smell [he said he was congested and couldn't smell anyway], along with body aches, extreme fatigue and struggles with 02 were pretty damning for the dreaded Covid. Or at least a reason to be tested. Perhaps it was just URI and a doctor could make things more comfortable for him.

He said he didn't want to go stay in a hospital. He knows what that scenario is like. He'd be alone without anyone. I agreed. So I called the VA Triage Line and am now waiting on a Triage Nurse to call back. The VA has a protocol for things like this. If it isn't an ambulance call or severe enough, they will fight the local ER regarding treatment. I've been through this for 24 years. They will want me to transport him 89 miles one way. I will plead my case for a 10 mile drive.

I will never forget what he said next. 
'So I should die at home.' 
I replied, 'Let's not jump the gun.'

'So where did I get it? You? Charlie? Did you let people pet Charlie that day you took a walk? They gave it to him, he gave it to me.'

After putting him back to bed and hooking up the CPAP, I sat down and did my 'contact' tracing.

The only persons I had contact were with
Two humans who briefly touched Charlie, 12-4
the checkout person at the store on 12-8
the FedEx guy who handed me a package and we briefly talked because it was dark and I had to show him where to turn around, 12-10 
distance hiking outdoors with Bill, 12-11....

Can you imagine the guilt I and the amount of anxiety I am suddenly inundated with? How did he even get sick if it is just a respiratory infection? What did I do wrong?

What if?

What...

if...

I do live with a man who is health compromised in the first place. Last year we wouldn't have questioned it much. We would have assumed it was a bad cold and respiratory infection. He has not been sick [nor have I] in years. 

I dropped him off at the local ER. Here is the difficult part. No spouse admittance, I could 'go do errands and shopping' or go home. The nurse was nice about it as she unloaded Rich in the ambulance bay. I wanted to point out to her how ridiculous 'go shopping' sounded in this day and age. She was just being kind and saying what was a common saying a year or so ago.

I told her I'd wait for a first impression and report by telephone in the parking lot. I did.

A Covid test will be done, chest x-rays, blood tests, the usual poking and prodding. I could expect an update in about 3 hours.

So now I am home doing laundry carrying my cell phone as if it is a life line.

Waiting...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update....Phone call from the nurse.
We will be admitting your husband here. There are no beds available at the VA.

Let's parse that out. No beds.

Me: What is the diagnosis?
Nurse: 99% positive Covid-19. We have given him....

I listened to what their plan of action for the moment was.

Me: Then I should be quarantined. Should I be tested?
Nurse: Quarantined yes. Tested no. You have not shown any signs correct?

Nurse: We will update you when he is put in a room and when we get the final labs back.
Me, quietly: Okay.

Hangs up phone.

Primal Screaming really scares Charlie. Maybe I should do it outside.

Almost Done

It is that time of year again when the garden bursts forth with all the vegetables I'd planted.

The sweet corn is done. I picked the last of it and started to chop down the stalks to toss to the cattle or the mules. The mules make sort work of it and the cattle seem to be a bit pickier about it.

Since my freezer is now stuffed with beef from the 'old' bull, I thought I'd dehydrate beans, carrots, and corn. I have a device that hooks up to my vacuum sealer that allows me to seal the goodies in pint jars.

The jar on the upper right has a mix of carrots and corn in it. In the winter I pop a pint of mixed veggies open and drop it into broth in the crock pot. By the end of the day, the vegetables have re-hydrated and taste wonderful.

The old bull. I think we made a mistake there. His meat is very lean which is good, but then it is more difficult to cook with flavor. I should have just shipped him to market and bought some farm raised beef.
Well, we will see how the roasts do in the crock pot. I had a TBone steak that was slightly okay. I need to see if there is anything I can do to make it more tender.
It is like eating lean venison.

Well hey, I'll deal with it!

The small garden really got ignored this year. Usually I pride myself with being able to demolish weeds with my handy hoe. I guess all the drives for appointments and picking up all the other farm jobs for me, put the garden on the back burner.

So. Rich has been home for about a week. He caught a nasty head cold and ... well, his mood is better. However last night was the first time I got him outside of the house.

His new routine of late has been to sit in front of the laptop and browse endlessly through programs. If he finds something, he sits and watches and doesn't seem to hear or see anything else going on around him.

He went to turn on the laptop to watch Netflix. I had unplugged everything and pulled the old laptop off the desk to work on it.

He looked confused and asked me to take care of it. I said "No, not until we are done with chores and supper."

I handed him his chore boots and he sat a long time on the porch bench before he put them on.
I waited.
He followed me to the shed reluctantly and I grabbed the little garden cart to carry hay to the last bull that we were shipping soon. I pointed over to the hay stack and told him the donkeys needed feeding.
He looked lost.
He stared at me.
I pointed again and he grimaced.
I walked away with the cart.

He did feed the donkeys and when I got back he was standing there quietly staring down at Little Richard's tie out rope that I'd asked him to help me fix. It seemed as though it was too much for him to think about and he murmured that he was heading to the porch.

I checked the donkeys. They were fed, but not watered.
So the infusion treatments had worked for the depression I am happy to say, but the other issues are there and well, frankly, ... I guess I am prepared for that. The old Rich would have noticed the near empty tubs of water.
This new Rich didn't. Or it didn't matter to him.

So last night while Netflix played in the other room, I made and canned beet pickles.

The man I used to know is still fading away bit by bit. It is odd to see him so disconnected with anything outside the house.
He says he has more energy and motivation.

In his head he does. But the doctors had told me, they could perhaps help the severe depression [they did] but not the damage from the strokes.

So the garden work is done except for collecting seeds.
The rest of the cattle will be shipped next week.

The donkeys will leave by the end of September.
It could be an interesting Winter.

Summer is almost done.

Ariel is coming to stay and spend some time on the farm this coming Monday. It will be nice and we are both looking forward to it.