Vigil, Day 3: "Death Rattle"

Ann and I stayed at Jack's bedside until about 8:00 last night, when the... I'm not sure what to call her... attendant showed up to take the night shift.  All day, Jack seemed... stable.

Despite this mis-hap in the morning, the rest of the day had been uneventful.  He ate his meals.  His breathing was clear.  His blood pressure and pulse were strong.   

He'd pretty much slept through a visit from some old friends.  That was weird.  Jack lay there, his eyes closed, breathing heavily, propped up on his pillows, while about six of us talked around him.  I dazzled the visitors with all the things an iPhone can do.  Jack snored right through the whole dazzlement.

When the attendant -- Anna Marie -- arrived, she looked Jack over and said that, so long as he was breathing on his own, and eating, and his vitals were strong, it would probably be at least a week, maybe two before he finally shed the mortal coil.  "It's not until they stop eating or drinking," she said, "that they're in the final phase."

So, after we left, Ann started talking about maybe heading back to Nashville tomorrow or Tuesday.  This morning, while we were having our coffee, it sounded like we'd probably leave Monday in the afternoon, spend the night half-way somewhere, and get home Tuesday.  We could pick our dog up from the kennel when we got home.  I started wondering what impact Hurricane Gustav might have.

At about 9:30 this morning we got to Jack's room, and it looked like the "final phase" that the Anna Marie was describing before we left the night before -- the condition she predicted was still a week away -- had kicked in over night. 

Jack was asleep, one eye slightly open.  Anna Marie said he hadn't eaten any breakfast, hadn't even woken up.  "He had a hard night," she said.

At around 1:30 this afternoon, a hospice nurse arrived to re-assess his condition.  She gave a quick listen to his breathing and turned to Ann and said "that's a death rattle." 

After sitting with Jack since about 9:30 this morning, watching all the coverage of Hurricane Gustav, Sarah Palin, Bush showing up at FEMA, McCain going to Mississippi -- all over and over again on MSNBC, I decided it was time for a break and retreated across the street to my refuge here at Panera Bread Co. 

Which was great until some woman showed up and turned the comfy chair section into her personal church.  She's reading the Bible out loud to her son. I'm getting my own Bible lesson here.  She needs to go across the street and see the hand of God at work. If she did, Jack would probably wake up just long enough to tell her to get the fuck out.  Jack didn't care much for Jesus.

Ann just text messaged me.  The other sister is coming in at 6:40 this evening.

Comments

[dotsie]

tell me again why people insist there is a god? Tell Fran to hurry up and get Jack there with her.