Saturday, January 12, 2013

leash - the O2 situation

I'm on 12 litres per minute of oxygen - It's a pretty high dose as far as the home care O2 company is able to handle. It requires two machines put together which makes it very noisy and very hot. The output of heat from one machine was enough to make the bedroom warm. With two machines together they've had to be moved to the adjoining room. A hole was drilled through the wall and the O2 cord goes through it to where I sit, in my bedroom. The room that now houses the machines used to be my office/sewing room. It is currently 26 degrees Celsius in there, with the window opened to the winter air. When the window was closed it was 35 degrees. Ma belle has a thermometer in there to keep track. This feels like a band aid solution because honestly, with the heat in there our entire house is out of whack. Apparently the heat is not going on in the basement due to the sensors reading wrong. I am currently on a leash as the O2 cord only reaches the to the washroom. I cannot answer the door to visitors nor can I fix myself lunch. I have access to my room and the washroom. I am a little prisoner in my own home. Then again, many days I do not even have the energy to walk to the living room if I could.

When professionals come, from the agency I'm working with, they use the lock-box. Soon ma belle will be back to work and I will be alone all day, virtually stuck to the house. If anything happened in this house, I would be screwed. Her return to work worries me, but what can she do, remain unemployed until I die? Knowing me, that could take a long time, longer than traditional compassion leave will allow. There's no sense in her life being interrupted any more than it already is just because mine is.

I know this sucks to say this, but I'm not sure I could go through this is it lasted that long, injecting myself every time I can't breath. Feel like I'm dying over and over again? I'm just not that fearless, brave or graceful. I know people have been writing to me lately using those and other words to describe me but the reality is, as much as I'm an ox, a fiercely stubborn woman, I am full of fear. I am just not able to embrace with grace the decomposition of a living body, MY living body. It scares me. Dying quickly in an instant scares me also.

I don't want to be going through this. The only two options make me very very mad and both end (badly).
Why does death have to be as difficult/painful as birth?