However, Wed. he could barely get out of bed. As the day wore on, he could sit up but could not lie down (we have the head of the bed adjusted so he is never lying flat) or walk farther than a few feet. He had to stop and rest, gasping for air, on his way to and from the bathroom.
Around noon, he told me to pack a bag in case he decided to go to the hospital. I did so, and with the assist of a calming med (he tends to panic which makes matters worse) he slept for awhile. But same thing resumed late in the afternoon. He feared that he had pneumonia, although he did not have a fever.
So by 6:00 pm, we were on our way to the ER. He saw a doctor he's seen before there. Some doctors can communicate much better than others, as we all know. Discussing the fact that this was Rocky's visit in less than a month, I asked, "What's going on?" Finally, the doctor could give me enough information that I could form an analogy.
The fact is that Rocky's lungs are shot, even though there is no evidence of cancer. Think of it this way: his lungs are his treasure (assets, resource, whatever word you want to use). What's in his pocket is his only cash reserve. He has no bank account, checking or savings. It is possible for him to borrow a little, from an outside supply of oxygen, but that is limited. And Rocky is fighting against carrying an oxygen tank around with him wherever he goes, and only uses it sporadically. He says he can't feel it is helping him very much.
He much prefers the breathing treatment he gets from a unit called a Nebulizer. I think it's because he has to breathe the warm medicine in, and it reminds him of smoking, bless his heart. But that's just my guess.
So, the doctor explained, the only thing he can rely on is the cash he's got in his pocket. So let's play out this scenario. He is planning on going to Java J's to listen to, or maybe even tell, a story. He feels pretty good and has been doing household chores to help me out (in other words, he's enjoying life spending his "cash." He might as well since he can't save it up, the doctor says.) Then an hour before we are to leave he breathes in some dust particles (or pollen, or pet dander, or perfume) and his lungs have to spend whatever cash he has in his pocket to fight the breathlessness he begins to feel (and, the doctor says, the lung infection that starts right then). Now, he can't manage the walk to the car, let alone into Java J's and standing at a microphone.
Ironically, he cannot save any cash up by resting more. The more exercise he can tolerate, the slightly stronger his lungs will get, but that sounds more hopeful than it really is, because in the doctor's words, "his lungs are rotten," and to the doctor's credit, he lowered his voice to barely be heard when he said, "rotten." I felt the tears coming, but held them back. I looked at Rocky and his eyes were glistening with tears then, too.
So, we came home with some strong meds and some better understanding of the situation. We've made some environmental changes and plan some more. Yesterday, our helper, Jack, and I moved our 4 cats to a lovely apartment in the basement we created for them out of an old extra dog kennel, covered with a tarp and with king-size pillows in the bottom. We filled up a large petfood dispenser with Meow Mix and I purchased one of those new-on-the-market bubbling water dispensers that will keep 1 1/2 gal. of water fresh for them for several days.
I have another friend who will come twice a week to take care of those chores (I am so lucky to have friends like this, and enough resources to pay them for their gas and trouble.)
There is a cat door to the outside world so the cats are not imprisoned in the basement. In fact, they had instantly used it and all four, including the old Mama, had climbed the poles that support our upsairs Master bedroom deck. They danced at the door for awhile, but as the night grew colder, below freezing, they disappeared. We didn't see them again today until they came up to lie in the sun.
Rocky will miss the cats a lot. He has always called them his "therapy cats," and he cradles them and pays attention to each one every day. I'm not talking about kittens. Three of these are 10 years old, and their Mama is of an undisclosed age since she came stray. I hope to post a short slideshow of them yet today.
Another decision we made is to move ourselves into the guest bedroom so we can tear out the carpet in our bedroom and put down hardwood. Our family room has wood floors, but we have always preferred the warmth of carpet in the bedrooms. Those days are gone, I guess.
So life goes on--thank God! And we make the necessary changes so we can remain at Castle Yonder. Mimi
