Poor Sally

In my moments of self reflection, I have often found myself saying, "Poor Sally." I have several reasons for such thoughts. First, poor Sally is home alone with Boney for the next five days--the next two of which will be her worst days. I am in Omaha NE while I write this having had to leave my wife and my dog (oh, and the cats) behind for several days. Let me digress for a moment and say that after being in Omaha for about five hours, I would MUCH rather be at home with the family. But back to "poor Sally." She is at home having to take primary responsibilty for all the medicine, all the walks, all the cleanings, and the ointment spreading over the next few days. Today was a particularly sad day for me because as we were doing this morning's cleaning, (and you all know Sally was doing wound care while I was holding Arrow's head and whispering sweet nothings in her ear) Arrow actually wimpered for the first time.

Second, I say "poor Sally," because as hard as it will be for her to do all of the caretaking while I am gone, I'm not so sure that she is any worse off than when I was at home. I found myself quizzing her about what medication was given when and how many times a day. I would ask her to double check a medication before she gave it to her to make sure that she was administering the right one. I would ask her how she would handle different scenarios while I was gone. I was kind of like a gnat.

I am pretty attentive to Arrow. And let's just say, while she begins to go to sleep, I hear EVERY move she makes, EVERY breath that she takes. "Poor Sally" is trying to sleep because she has to get up at the ungodly hour of 4:45am for crew practice (which I will add is her choice) and I am popping up in bed every 5-15 min SURE that I hear Arrow licking her wound (through the t-shirt we have put on her). Invariably when I pop up, she is lying peacefully in her bed. Sometimes, I think she heard me pop up and so lies down before I can see her and then I try to pop up without making noise to trick her. But again, I am 95% of the time wrong about what I have heard.

Last night, I popped up about four times in the first hour after going to bed. Once was to make sure she wasn't licking her wound, one time was so that I could turn the TV and lights off downstairs, another time was to go to the bathroom, and the final time was because she was breathing heavy. I do have to say, her breathing was labored and I was convinced we perhaps had overmedicated her (long story, a pill I gave her got stuck in her throat and less than half was ingested. Sally followed up with a whole pill). Her breathing was shallow and noticeably heavy. I got up and sat with her for awhile. Sally was at first annoyed and then agreed that the breathing was odd. After a fifth "pop up" to take off her polo shirt (perhaps she is too hot) and put on her e-collar, it appeared that her breathing returned to normal. But alas, the silence didn't last long before she resumed her heavy breathing. So a sixth "pop up" resulted in my going to the computer and googling side effects of her medication. Finally, I convinced myself she would be OK. At this point "poor Sally" was down to a maximum of four hours of sleep (assuming no more pop ups).

Finally, "poor Sally" is getting a glimpse of how I may respond to her as my partner if she were to get sick and need care. Although it is likely that she will be soothed by the way I hold her head in my arms, stroke her hair, and tell her I love her, I think she is also clear that I'm not going to be so good at preventing infection in her bed sores. She may be upping her retirement savings so that she can pay for a visiting nurse to handle that aspect of her care.

I realize as I write this that many of you might have your own "poor Sally" thoughts to add. Be gentle. Its been a rough few weeks :)