Midnights...

The night terrors visited Thursday night around 11pm. He awoke with a start and became extremely agitated asking me what that noise was. 

I turned on all the lights as he asked and listened.

Nothing.

But he heard it. And said: Something's trying to kill me. [It came out a bit garbled, but he repeated it several times sometimes missing parts of words]

He tried sitting up and couldn't. But there was no stopping him. It was awkward, but I got him up sitting safely. He took off his 02 cannula and claimed it was upside down. It took forever to have him see that the cannula was indeed okay to use.

Everything was wrong and he kept grabbing his O2 hose and tried to pull out his catheter.

Since I recognized it as hallucinating and agitation, I offered his meds to calm him down. He actually raised his voice and told me to go away. He seemed very angry.

Having lived with his severe PTSD for many years I wasn't too fazed. At least not right now. The anger hurt but I understood he was just lashing out and I was in the room to receive it.

I made sure he was safe and went into the kitchen to prep some liquid meds. 

I was quiet and calmly asked him to open up his mouth.

He did and I sat next to him and waited.

After 25 minutes passed, I could gave him  his nebulizer treatment. More silent waiting while his hands adjusted invisible things. Those hands were busy. It actually looked as if he were talking with someone and expressing the conversation points as he used to all the time.

He then reached up and brushed his facial hair as if he had a long beard. The 02 line seemed to be a lifeline for him to hold. He held it in both hands as he looked across dim lit the room.

For a while he seemed lost. With the meds and the NEB, he was back to breathing in an acceptable manner. But his mind was in and out of places only he could see. Some of this is natural to his state of being right now and some of it is aggravated by the fact he can't swallow his meds well anymore.

Because his psych meds were stopped cold, it can lead to a number of difficulties that we have to try to deal with. 

Why? In such a forlorn voice.

Oh did you? That is flat over...look.

Garbled, stop, isn't...the language turned into several grunts and many moans.

He sat up for nearly an hour with me sitting next to him. He fell asleep and woke, shut his eyes and swayed, then finally I asked quietly, "Do you want to lay down?"

Yes

Off and on for the next hour he made sounds and some words before falling back to sleep.

I fell back to sleep on the loveseat around 2AM. It seemed we'd made through one more big event.

This may seem odd, but I find this part of his 'journey' somewhat interesting. 

Yes, it feels a bit scary too. I'm that person that studies it. I suppose it keeps me from freaking out if I look at what is going on with an analytical eye.

Friday morning was startling. Rich had pulled his cannula off while I was asleep and when I checked him his 02 was a mere 66. I put it on and he pulled it off again a while later. Another hurdle overcome as I changed cannulas and got a more comfortable one for him.

Steve and his daughter showed up early and Steve sat with Rich so I could sit and enjoy some coffee and chat with Steve's daughter [she is the one who got our horse '15' now ... named Honey]. Gina told me she had to come with her dad as he was pretty upset and anxious regarding his Fishing Buddy.

I'm happy to give Steve all the time in the world with Rich. He seems to know exactly how to be quiet or to chat a bit. Rich is calm when Steve is there. 

Nurse Jason has been here every day and each day we construct a new plan to deal with his psychosis, anxiety, and end of life issues. This morning was pretty intense, but I'll talk about that later. Aside from being tired, I am doing what folks would say pretty okay.

Friends make the world go around...especially when they bring me something to eat.