Ryan is now undergoing something called “Comfort Care.”
This means that measures are being taken only to make him comfortable rather than prolonging his life. He has never left the hospital since his admittance last month and Hospice is a thing of the past. Now we are all holding vigil over Ry awaiting his death. So many people have been stopping by since we made his condition more public, and their heartfelt support and outpouring of love for Ryan has not gone unnoticed. I can’t help but think some of these visits have been a little last-minute and the onslaught of people has been rather….crowded. However, the visits have been a welcome distraction. We, his family and I, have been happy to talk and laugh around Ryan’s hospital bed while he drifts in and out of sleep and a drugged haze. It has been lovely being able to tell stories about Ry, pour over pictures of him and his many travels that we have never seen before, and to come together as a loving community all intent on providing warmth, comfort, love and safety for him. For instance, last night, when he seemed worried, but was unable to communicate his distress clearly, the nurses finally calmed him with drugs while I held his hand until his gaze started to relax. He looked at me and I told him, “I make you safe.” He heard me. I know this because he smiled, nodded his head, and closed his eyes with a relaxed sigh.
My heart goes out to many of Ryan’s most recent visitors though. For them his illness and his current journey toward death is shocking and deeply painful. I, at least, feel like I have evolved past this point. I have been grieving and will continue to grieve, but I am getting tired of it. It is exhausting and lately a good laugh has been more beneficial to me than a good cry. I have chosen to acknowledge all of the terrible aspects of this situation while trying hard to focus on being there for Ry and to be more positive. It has been easier than I thought. It’s easy to pour myself into just taking care of him and then remembering happier times when he was healthy and happy. I know it will be terrible to lose him and I wish everything could be different, but the reality is that he got cancer and the cancer is killing him and everything has been done to keep this from happening but it simply was not enough.
All we can do is love him and try to help him transition through his death and minimize his pain and distress.
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01132012-Dr. Helman (palliative care) and Dr. Kreitzer 6th floor KP RWC
After many discussions and intense consideration, Ry’ famly, Nissa,his doctors, and Ryan (even in an incapacitated state) decided to increase Ryan’s pain medications and to start giving Ryan Atavan (an anti-anxiety medication) to keep him as free of pain as possible and to keep him calm and relaxed; and to discontinue all fluids and nutrition to help Ryan’s swelling and to ease his body into a more natural death per Ryan’s DNR statement. This is all intended to make Ryan as comfortable as possible. The past three days Ryan has been sleeping continuously with very brief moments when his eyes would open and he might be alert enough to answer questions or smile and wave at someone. Most recently, Ry has been put on a Dilauded pump (a concentrated form of morphine given intravenously with a pump controlled by a button Ry can push as needed). Thus far he has not needed it very much. Arrangements are to be made by Ryan’s family to take care of his remains upon his death.
On a personal note, Ryan, his family and Nissa are all very grateful for every one’s support throughout this journey.
Filed under: TMI, Uncategorized Tagged: Cancer, Head and neck cancer, Health, Hospital, Oncology, Oral Cancer, Pain Image may be NSFW.
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