Prepare yourself... this is a long one....

Last week was crazy and stressful. This week hasn't been much better...

Last Sunday morning my phone rang just before 9 a.m. and it was Poppaw. He said he was feeling funny and he thought maybe Mom and I should take him to the emergency room. His speech was kind of slurred and when I tried to ask him if he was at home or out somewhere he hung up the phone. Mom was at my house so I told her to go on ahead over there and I'd be right behind her. When I got there Poppaw was sitting in his chair in the living room talking. He still sounded a little funny and he would have trouble coming up with certain words every once in a while. I'd try to get him to talk about stuff (like the cats I saw outside or how cute Darby had been that morning) but he kept repeating himself and talking about his right hand. He said it "wasn't working right." Mom called an ambulance and I tried to keep Poppaw from getting up and moving around. We didn't want him up walking because we knew if he fell we wouldn't be able to catch him. He stood up and I begged him to sit down but he insisted he was okay to stand up and patted me on the shoulder.

When the paramedics came in they had him sit down and they checked his sugar. He's not diabetic but they checked anyway. It was a little high but not bad enough to make him act or feel funny. They loaded him up and we met them at the hospital. When we got there one of the paramedics met me in the hall and showed me Poppaw's chart. (She also asked me if he was always so happy. lol. There's only been a few times in my life when I have not seen him smiling, laughing and cracking jokes.) His BP was super high when they checked it in the ambulance. He has been taking meds for high blood pressure and has struggled with it for years. When we got back to his room and heard him talk to the doctor we thought he was doing better. The slurred speech was gone. They did some quick scans and took him for a CT. At that time everything was coming back normal. But the ER Doc warned us that if it was a stroke the signs might not show up in scans until later. They wanted to admit him just to keep an eye on him and run a few more tests.


At this point we're feeling relieved hoping that maybe all that has happened is just a mini or light stroke. Maybe they'll put him on an aspirin a day or some other kind of blood thinner and we'll go back to life as normal. After Poppaw got settled in his room he drifted off to sleep and the nurse encouraged us to grab some lunch while he was napping. So we did. While we were in the cafeteria Poppaw's pastor came and found us. (Mom had called his church earlier that morning to let them know what was going on.) He told us that he had stopped by the room and Poppaw wouldn't talk to him. That didn't sound normal and it worried us so we finished up eating and headed back up to his room. When we got there a patient care tech was there with him. He was just laying in the bed staring off and when I spoke to him he wouldn't even look at me. She said that the nurse had called for a neurologist to come asap. It was at that point that we knew either the effects of the morning's episode were taking over or he had had another more powerful stroke.


In the days that followed the doctors kept running tests to see if his brain was bleeding or swelling. Therapists came by - more than once - to evaluate him. On Thursday one of the doctors gave Mom the bad news. His brain was beginning to swell and the effects of the stroke were permanent. There would be no chance at rehabilitation. The stroke was a massive one caused by a blood clot that started in an artery in his neck. It went to the base of his brain on the left side and the damage that was done can not be reversed. Poppaw can't swallow, move his right side, talk or control his bladder. They've also told us that he doesn't know who we are. The doctor explained to Mom that we had two choices: Install a feeding tube in his stomach or call Hospice.

Mom and I felt the same way. My grandpa had been so active and independent he would hate being kept alive by a tube. We knew that he wouldn't want that. So we knew what our decision would be. But we worried that people on the outside would think Hospice was cruel and that his family wouldn't understand. Before we let anyone know our decision we called his family and had them come visit. That way they could see his condition for themselves and we could tell them in person. So far everyone has been very understanding and supportive. That's a huge relief to me and mom.

Poppaw was moved to his room at the Flo and Phil Jones Hospice House on Monday. It is really nice and peaceful. It's so much better than the hospital. We tried to get Daddy in there two years ago but all their rooms were full. We had to bring Dad home and take care of him ourselves. Mom and I couldn't go thru that again. The other night I had a little break down just remembering what it was like for us with Daddy. At the time we just did what we had to do and took care of him the best that we could. When I think back I cry for myself and for my mom because that was so hard on us but we didn't have a choice.

And then there's my sweet baby girl. Mom has been our babysitter while I'm at work. Since she needed to be with Poppaw we've had to spread the Darby love around. I stayed home two days last week and kept her myself while I ran errands for Mom. (I really envy SAHM's. I had a great time staying home with her and got stuff done around the house! I miss maternity leave!!!) I also took her to work with me one day but that was really hard. I was exhausted by the end of the day. I am so lucky to have a sweet boss that is okay if I need to bring the baby in. His daughter used to have my job and when her kids were born she brought kept them at the office. Plus everyone at the shop loves her too. They all tell me she's a good baby but I hate it when she gets fussy. She's a baby and I know she can't help it but I feel bad. Then on Thursday and Friday my Aunt JoAnn kept Darby. I think they really got along well together. Uncle Harold was pretty fond of Darby too. He insisted on carrying her out to the car for me when I would pick her up. This week has been different. Aunt Jo and Uncle Harold had doc appts this week and weren't free to watch Darby. I brought her in with me Monday morning and Mom took her to the Hospice House with her Monday afternoon. They told us to make ourselves at home there and that babies were welcome. Isn't that nice? Tony was a little worried about Mom being stretched too thin with keeping an eye on Poppaw and making arrangements for his care and finances (not to mention dealing with her crazy side of the family). So he took her with him yesterday and today. He took the packNplay with him along with some toys and set her up in the office at the Flea Market where he can keep an eye on her. And I think they had a pretty good day yesterday. So glad that he's in a position where he can help during the day.

So that's where we are today. The doc told us at the hospital that after we were moved to the Hospice House Poppaw could last up to two weeks. But Mom and I don't think it will be that long. After all we've been thru this before and know what signs to look for. Yet, even if we know we're doing the right thing it doesn't make it any easier. At least he won't have to suffer the way Daddy did.

Please keep us in your prayers.