I've set him up with nutritional snacks because I have to go to work this afternoon.
The yogurt smoothie he had last night really helped with the diarrhea and he hasn't mentioned nausea all day.
I let him sleep in until 9 am. I however did get him up and 'made' him take fluids and Pedialyte.
At 10, we ate scrambled eggs and English Muffins slathered with homemade grape jelly. He said it was very good.
We shared a cup of coffee together and then he went back to sleep.
I told him at noon I would get him up for a small meal, he should have some of the peach yogurt stuff I'd made.
Yep, he agreed that it would be a good idea.
I came in just after noon and he was up. Good thing, I thought. I grabbed the smoothie and started to fix it for him.
He grumbled at me and waved me away.
"I have a fever, I'm cold." He grumbled.
I whipped out the thermometer and took his temp and showed it to him.
"Fine," he said as if I'd just insulted him, "I'm still cold."
I got him a flannel and shut the windows telling him that yes, it was a bit chilly and I'd turn the heat on for him.
He got up and looked out the window at the cattle.
I asked, "Do you want to walk out and see them? The calves are separate from the moms. The apple trees are pretty and everything smells nice."
"No, I don't want to walk a f*cking mile, no I don't want your peach stuff." He turned and walked to the pantry and rummaged until he found a Hostess cupcake. He ate two while glaring at me.
I held up the lunch we planned together only two hours before.
He shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said, "You don't know what it is like. I don't mean to be...like..." he waves his hand in the air.
I replied,"No I don't know really. I'm not walking in our shoes."
"I'm just so tired. I can't do what you want me to do. I just can't."
I watched my husband go up the stairs and then went and tucked him in.
"Will you promise me to do one can of Jevity tonight through the feeding tube?"
He shrugs, then mumbles, "Yes."
And I wonder. I'll be at work. I'll have to chore at 1 am. I look out the kitchen window. Perhaps the cattle do look as though they are a mile away to someone with no energy.
So I pack my dinner to take to work. I feel guilty, like I need to be at home to nag him into drinking fluids and eating nutrition. He wants to get better he says.
I want him to get better.
Maybe he will have the Jevity. He is supposed to every day. He refused it last night claiming he'd eaten well.
I guess I'll know when I get home tonight.
Come Tuesday, our next day of Chemo Infusion will be a telling one.
I wish Nurse Ronnie were here, she wouldn't put up with anything from him.
He is angry.
He is sad.
He is frustrated.
He feels sick.
He sees no end.
I want the strength to get him through this.
I want to trust that he will follow through and use the PEG tube we call Miss Peggy.
I want him to remember that at the end of this, the tumor will be gone, it has already shrunk.
But perhaps you can't see that when you are miserable.
Just once I'd like him to try and fight back at this awful thing called cancer.
Get angry and decide to try everything to make yourself better.
I have no choice, I have to trust him to do the right thing.