Shivering From…?

Dearest Rachel –

And just when we thought everything was sorted out, too…

The thing is, Dad has been making it plain that, for all that he seemed to have been recovering from this third near-fatal incident, it’s not that he’s truly ‘getting better’ any more. On the contrary, each recovery settles him in at a new baseline, each time a little farther down in terms of strength and quality of life. At some point, even the baseline will be so low that any drop from it will likely render him irretrievable. And he’s stated outright that he’s basically ready for that; indeed, there are more than enough moments when he all but wishes for that moment to come.

And why not? As Paul the apostle put it, for him “to live is [for] Christ, but to die is gain.” Who wouldn’t want to step ashore in heaven, with a glorified body that no longer is shackled and ravaged by the effects of old age and the sicknesses he’s had to endure? Given what he has come to expect of the life to come (especially in comparison to the life he has), it would be more of a wonder if he didn’t long for that moment; especially given his absolute surety that this is what is to come for him (although he would be the first to acknowledge that none of it would be because of his own goodness; but you’re already quite aware of that).

However, up until now, for all the preparations made for his departure, I’ve said that whenever it happens, we’ll probably still be caught by surprise. After all, he’s rebounded so many times before – and this time, up until yesterday, seemed no different. Indeed, his lucidity and mental acuity this time around boded that much better than in previous episodes. Sure, he might be weak of frame, but he seemed strong of heart and mind; he should be able to recover enough to return home and have a visiting caregiver, much like your folks did in their last days.

But yesterday caught me and Mom by surprise. It started with him, having just been given his second meal of the day shortly before I showed up from the ‘office.’ The nurse was trying to reposition him further up in bed, as he has a tendency to slide toward the foot of the bed, due to being propped up in it at an angle. Suddenly, he leaned to his left and coughed – or at least, that’s what I thought he had done at first. It so happened that the ‘cough’ brought up his ‘lunch’ – one of the first times all year (if not considerably longer than that) that his esophagus has been used, and the food is going the wrong way.

Needless to say, he was shook up by that – as were we all, the nurse included (for a moment, anyway, before she went to fetch what she could to clean everything up). But his reaction was more literal than all that. He started shivering, for no apparent reason; even the covers that he had were insufficient to resolve the matter.

Since for some reason, the call light in his room wasn’t working, I went to the front desk to ask for an extra blanket for him. One of the ladies led me to the storage closet and got me one to bring back to him. She also made sure to contact maintenance about the call button. And for a moment, it seemed as if that would suffice; he settled down, grateful for the extra layer of warmth.

But it didn’t last long before it was obvious that he was still shivering. Until all those layers, he was still shaking like a leaf; even his lips were quivering, like he was about to cry. And maybe there was a certain unvoiced frustration about the situation. Not only couldn’t he seem to warm up, he couldn’t position himself comfortably either, going back and forth between trying to lie on his back to pulling himself onto his left side, nearly leaning over the edge of the bed as if he needed to throw up again, but clearly not wanting to do so. It was as if every time he would get himself into a position that he would consider to be comfortable, it stopped being comfortable, forcing him to return to his previous position to try and find respite.

I felt the need to sneak out to the storage closet a second time, and sneak off with yet another blanket. This one was somehow larger and longer than the ones that he already had, and covered him pretty thoroughly. Even then, he continued to shiver under all that, trying desperately to rest, until the nurse came by with his afternoon meal.

What was truly unsettling about all this – on top of the fact that, no matter what we did, he just couldn’t seem to warm up – was that he claimed to be “scared” in the midst of his shivering. I think it was more out of a concern about needing to return to the hospital (which he made it clear he didn’t want to do, and Mom assured him that he wouldn’t) than out of any fear of what he seemed to be about to step into, but it was unnerving. Up until now, he had such peace about the impending nature of his departure; to suddenly be trembling as he was as appeared to be approaching it didn’t make sense to either of us.

However, as he was being fed – and the nurse included a ground-up ibuprofen in his feeding tube, as well – he began to settle down. And a good thing, too, as while he continued to shake, the food poured down his feeding tube would rise up a few millimeters now and then before draining into his stomach. If he hadn’t been able to calm himself, he would have never been able to finish his meal. Although, for some time thereafter, his lips continued to quiver, as if he were making an effort to ensure that he kept this meal down, as well.

I don’t know when it happened, though, but at some point, not only did the shivering stop, but he was now dealing with the opposite problem; he started sweating. At his request – which he had to make more than once, as it was hard to discern what he was saying at first – we began to peel off first one blanket, and then another. Eventually, we had to summon a nurse for pillowcases and a replacement hospital gown for him, as they were all soaked through.

Was this like a fever breaking, and he was once again on the road to recovery? I couldn’t say, honey. By the time I left to get dinner with Daniel, he seemed to have settled down, although he still hadn’t been able to decide whether he preferred to lie on his back or his left side (which, considering he’d been dealing with a sore couple of ribs on that side since just before entering the hospital in the first place, seemed strange to me. But then, I can’t feel what’s uncomfortable or painful for him).

I’ll have to find out what happened when I get there this morning; I’m going to be there instead of Mom, as she’s arranged (with Dad’s help from before all this) to be at the house for the folks replacing the carpet in the family room. After that, a friend of theirs is coming to the house in the afternoon to set up the outdoor water system, so I’ve been assigned to spell her there when he arrives (and possibly do some heavy lifting of sorts). This is what we’re dealing with at the moment; routine maintenance in the midst of complete unknowns.

To that end, I’ll ask you to keep an eye on us all, honey, and wish us luck. We’re going to need it.