Yes, today is my birthday. It will certainly be one that goes down in the history books.
If you’ve been keeping up with this blog, you know that Minke was scheduled for a tracheostomy on Friday, September 29th. On Saturday night, September 17th, I needed to call 911 because Minke couldn’t breathe. They took him to the ER and wound up admitting him to the ICU.
There is a lot of stuff that went on in the ensuing days. But I’m gonna cut to the chase. The VA health team was working to speed up the surgery. So many i’s needed dotting and t’s needing to be crossed. I cannot say enough about the care that not only Minke received during this time but the care I received as well. I received phone calls each night from the doctor for updates, questions, and ways to alleviate my anxiety. While at the hospital, I was treated respectfully and my questions were welcome.
But yesterday, Minke and I were alone in the room, and he told me he didn’t want the trach anymore. He was out of gas. Done. He wanted to come home and he wanted hospice.
Needless to say, this took the wind right out of me. We talked as much as Minke was able because he can’t really breathe, so talking is difficult. I told him I wanted whatever he wanted, and frankly, I never wanted the trach in the first place. And as long as I’m speaking frankly, I think his pulmonologist (who I really have choice words for … I don’t like this dude at all, and I hope he reads this) I think he waited too long to schedule everything. He took way too long and now it’s come to this.
The circus that would be the care for Minke with a trach was going to be way too much. And at this point, all Minke wants is peace, quiet, and time to spend with me, Zelda, and Jupiter.
This morning, I received a call from yet another doctor. I answered the phone and he said, “Is this Debbie?” “Yes, it is,” I answered. The doc said, “First of all I’d like to wish you a Happy Birthday. I am Minke’s doctor and his wish for your birthday is he would like to come home today.”
And so, as fast as I could get there, I went to the hospital with fresh clothes and the wheelchair and we began the long process of getting discharged.
Just to let you know, there have been a million conversations in the interim. We spoke with a wonderful social worker who explained hospice care. We spoke to the wonderful doctors who let us know what to expect and laid out exactly what hospice would entail. We get it. There’s not a lot of time left. But Minke is home now and it is the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.
I need to stop writing for now and let hospice know we are home, but I wanted to spend some time with my family before getting down to business. And, I wanted to update all of you because your words, kindness, support, and love have meant so much to us.
We are at the end-of-life stage. Minke’s final chapter. I will be here and holding his hand every step of the way. And as we look into each other’s eyes, he is smiling, and those blue eyes are twinkling. This is the greatest love story ever told, and I’m so grateful I got to spend the last decade with my B’Sharta.
