I mentioned how he hadn't been doing too well, and that the last time I saw him, I wasn't sure if he recognised me.
Well, I walked into his room, a special little private one and to my surprise the lights were dimmed and he was sleeping (and snoring), I was elated. I was talking to the quasi-nurse and saying how great he looked now the yellowness is subsiding and how great it was to see him sleeping- (he hadn't slept more than a handful of hours since being admitted on the 17th May)
I had already told the nurses’ station that I was there and they were getting the Doctor for me for an update. The Doctor asked me to step outside... Fair enough I thought, Shorty is sleeping and doesn't want to hear us talk... Then the Doc asked me to come into the waiting room, for more "privacy", mm, fair enough. We get in there and sit down, I jokingly asked her "Is this where you take people for serious talks??" pause... "Wait... is this where you take people for serious talks?????!"... Actually finally realising I was in for said "serious talk".
I was pretty shocked at the news. Especially as I had seen him and thought he looked better than I had seen him in a while. Apparently not. I just wasn't expecting it.
The Doctor explained a few things to me and I must admit, I was zoning in and out... I really just wanted her to leave so I could burst into tears.
What I knew at this point was that the procedure that they tried to make Shorty better, just didn't work... and he is unable to recover. He is too weak and in poor health to try anything else... and apparently he was feeling distressed about the IV in his arm, so they removed it- so in essence he will quite literally waste away in there. Then it dawned on me, he wasn't going to be leaving the hospital alive. He would basically starve to death and there was nothing I could do. It was too late.
A million and three things have gone through my head. I was angry. I was sad. I felt the hospital didn't try hard enough and that they gave up on him. Removing the drip?? Starving him to death? Not giving him any chance to fight??! My God, it breaks my heart... but after kicking up a mini fuss, I now understand that this may be a case of "cruel to be kind"- at least in their eyes. My family and I tried to get them to put the drip back in... I don't know, it just seems so wrong to let him starve to death. there response to this was that it was expected he would pass away something this week. It really was too late.
If only I had visited more???
It is about 90% sure that a cancerous mass is what has caused this latest stint in the hospital and even if he were to recover the way they had thought, he would still have had a long road and a very small chance of recovery.
He looks very peaceful now and even though I am beside myself about this... perhaps it is for the best. And an end to his suffering. I didn't know, but apparently he had been suffering pain for the past month or so- but refused to see a Doctor. When I initially went to visit him, I was talking to him about the procedure he needed, and in his confused state kept muttering "It's too late, it's too late"... I guess he knew.
I have had a chance to grieve- and he hasn't even passed away yet. It dawned on me over the weekend that some of the things he had said to me in the past fortnight or so at the hospital was him saying Goodbye to me. I dismissed him. I tried to change the subject. I really truly had no idea this was on the cards.
When I visited him over the weekend, I was with other people, so I withdrew myself emotionally but I need to say my Goodbyes too.
I am preparing myself now for my visit this afternoon, where I will be verbalising my Goodbyes in privacy with him. I am not good in emotional situations. I am too emotional. I can't talk... But I need to this time. I have a chance to actually say Goodbye and tell him how much I appreciate everything he did for me, with the chance that he may actually hear me- it's debatable but I choose to believe he will hear me.
Sorry this post is all over the shop.