Overnight

Thursday morning, I got an update from Stacey regarding grandma’s condition. She had entered into a type of breathing known as Cheyne-Stokes respiration – a period of labored breathing, followed by a period of slower/calmer breathing.

I had returned to Chicago about two days ago, and my sense was that grandma’s condition was taking a turn for the worse. So I headed back to Indianapolis, with the intent of helping begin a vigil at her bedside.

For a very long time now, my dad and Auntie Vicky have been checking in on grandma. They had a set routine down, splitting a large part of the day between them – always ensuring that one person was there.

On arriving in the afternoon, we checked in with everyone in grandma’s room – and decided we would return in the evening, and stay with her through the night. Since my dad and Aunt Vicky had already been spending a great deal of time with her, Stacey and I felt we could give them a chance to rest – and stay the night.

We returned around 10:30PM, and traded places with my dad.

Stacey, making sure grandma Phoebe would stay warm.

We sat in two chairs by her bed, and spent most of the night right there at her side. I have to say – I don’t know that I’ve done anything harder, sitting and watching my grandmother’s labored breathing.

I took some comfort in the fact that her breathing/apnea was something I was familiar with, and that patients who woke after a period of Cheyne-Stokes respiration reported no discomfort. Seeing someone go through this process was an entirely different matter.

At several points, her breathing was such that it made me feel like she was getting ready to pass away. Her breathing would slow to such a point where it didn’t look like she was breathing at all. And then, after a long pause, she would start up again.

Sitting and watching her, it felt like her time was near – time and again, over and over. While I eventually got used to her labored breathing, it took me a very, very long time to do anything other than watch her intently, trying to ensure that she was still breathing.

Grandma shared a room with another resident, so throughout the night – Stacey and I had to take pains to keep quiet. The TV was on in the background, but it was muted. The channel was on a PBS-like station, showing a variety of arts programming. There was a lot of opera and ballet, and a lot of people singing on stage.

Stacey was able to doze in and out a bit, as was I. But for the most part, we were awake the entire night. I maybe got 30 minutes total, mostly during moments where I caught myself sleeping and then jolting awake.

Around 3:30 AM, I went wandering around looking for a vending machine to buy a Coke. I got directed through a set of hall doors, took an elevator down two floors into the basement. Though it was brightly lit, it was a surreal thing to be wandering in a nursing home basement, looking for a soda machine.

I chanced across two janitors, sitting and talking. I think all of us were surprised at one another, but they kindly pointed me to the vending machine nearby.

Earlier in the night, when my dad was here, grandma began receiving a small amount of morphine (administered via drops in the mouth). Several nurses stopped by throughout the night, at times to move her, at times to clean her. She received morphine drops at 4 hour intervals, though it didn’t seem to really alter her labored breathing.

Around 7AM, Uncle Benny arrived to take over for us. We sat and talked with him a long while about grandma’s condition. As the one family member with a medical background, it’s been great to get his insight and assessment of how grandma is doing.

Near to when he arrived, Grandma’s breathing resumed to a more constant rate. As opposed to how she was over the course of the night, she looked to be having slightly more restful sleep.

As others were waking and starting their days, Stacey and I headed back to her house – and to get a few hours of sleep.

Related:
Grandma Phoebe in the Hospital
Grandma Phoebe Update