Dos Voces, Un Destino: Dejarlo Ir
“¿Qué pasa con mi lengua?” ¿Que dice papá, que es lo que siente? Es que no puedo hablar. Papá, si puede hablar. Está hablando bien. Yo lo puedo oÃr. Me puse a sobarle el pecho, y el cerro sus ojos. “Es hora de dormir. Nos vemos en la mañana. Buenas noches dad, buenas noches mamÃ. Que Dios los bendiga y que sueñen con los angelitos.” Les apague la luz, cerrando les la puerta del dormitorio, y respire.
Papá empieza darse cuenta que está entrando al otro nivel de su enfermedad. El Parkinson le va robar su voces y con tiempo su habilidad de tragar. Hay dÃas cuando la voz de papá es difÃcil oÃr. El habla bien suavecito. Uno tiene que concentrarse en lo que está diciendo para poder entenderlo. Masticar la comida es más difÃcil para él y se le montona la comida en el cachete. El acto de tragar también se le está poniendo más difÃcil. Si le damos lÃquidos ralos se le van por el mal camino y empieza a toser. Nosotros hemos cambiado su dieta a comida más suavecita para masticar. Papá está reconociendo que está perdiendo control de los músculos, en su garganta y su lengua. Es la crueldad de esta enfermedad, el Parkinson’s, de tener claridad de mente y el entendimiento de lo que está pasando.
Con lo que le está sucediendo a papá hemos empezado a considerar el uso de hospicio. Tenemos el entendimiento que lo mejor que podemos hacer para él es que no sufra de dolor. El servicio de hospicio es para eso, pero tomar la decisión no es fácil. Cuando hicimos una cita con el representante del hospicio y vino a la casa, aprendimos que ellos se concentran en que el enfermo este confortable en sus últimos meses de vida. En palabras simple, le dan medicamento para que no sienta dolor. Lo que nos complica la decisión es que nuestro sistema medico deja de pagar las otras medicinas de papá y los doctores de especialidad que tiene, como su neurológico. Poner a papá en hospicio resultara en nosotros pagar de nuestras bolsas la insulina y Carbidopa. Estas son dos medicinas que papá necesita para funcionar.
Esta es una falta de nuestro sistema médico. Cortarle la insulina a papá es una manera de asegurase que no pase más de los sÃes meses que paga el hospicio. Sin la insulina no dura más que unos dÃas. Nuestras preguntas y sentimientos hicieron que la representante del hospicio se sintiera incomoda. Pero es algo que tenemos que entrar con ojos abiertos.
La semana pasada llevamos a mamá y papá a El Centro de Ancianos y Memoria de la Universidad de San Francisco. Los doctores confirmaron que las enfermedades de mamá y papá están bien avanzadas y soportan la decisión de hospicio para papá. El consejo de ellos es que los medicamentos se le tienen que seguir dando a papá son la insulina y Carbidopa. Sin Carbidopa papá se pone tieso, como una tabla, y es muy difÃcil darle su cuidado necesario.
Lo que nos sorprendió fue cuanto peso a perdido mamá. La última vez que mamá fue a su doctor propio, peso 125 libras, y hora pesa 104. No podemos pesar a papá porque no se puede parar, pero pensamos que él pesa como unas 115 libras. Los doctores recomendaron que les moliéramos todas las comidas, hasta la sopa. Ellos nos explicaron que la probidad es que mamá y papá no mueran de sus enfermedades pero de complicaciones de pulmonÃa. Los resultados de la comida pasando a sus pulmones. Lo que apreciamos del Centro de Ancianos y Memoria es la compasión que nos dieron y el servicio social.
Nosotros entendemos que estamos en una situación que no es común, teniendo dos padres con enfermedades neurológicas al mismo tiempo. Es difÃcil. Nos ponemos a discutir en nuestras mentes si estamos tomando buenas decisiones. Preguntas como, “¿Si le damos medicinas necesarias, le estamos prolongando sus vidas? ¿Están sufriendo de dolor y no nos dicen? Tal vez el sufrimiento viene de reconocer lo que está sucediendo con sus cuerpos. ¿Si los ponemos en el hospicio y le dan drogas para que no sienta dolor, tal vez no va a reconocer lo que le espera? Lo que si entendemos es que no hay respuestas que son claras o fáciles.
Papá es mi héroe. Es duro para el corazón dejarlo ir, cuando la mente reconoce que si ya es el tiempo. Le celebramos a papá sus 93 años el 9 de Septiembre. Papá ha tenido una vida buena.
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It’s bed time. I was helping dad to bed when he asked, “What’s the matter with my tongue?” What do you mean dad? What’s wrong, what are you feeling? I’m unable to speak. Dad, you’re speaking fine. I can hear you. I rubbed his chest for a few minutes and he closed his eyes. “It’s time to go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night dad, good night mom. God bless you and may the angels look over you while you sleep.” I turned off the light, closed their bedroom door, and took a deep breath.
Dad is starting to become aware of the next stage of his disease. Parkinson’s will take his voice and eventually his ability to swallow. Dad’s voice has become difficult to hear, it is very soft. You need to concentrate on what he is saying in order to understand him. He has difficulty chewing; food will pocket in his cheeks and there are times when I need to remove the food with my fingers. When we provide dad thin liquids, they at times will go down his windpipe. We’ve needed to shift to feeding dad soft foods and having him drink through a straw. Dad is recognizing that he is losing control of the muscles in his throat. The cruelty of Parkinson’s is having the clarity of mind to understand what is happening.
As dad loses control of the muscles in his throat we’ve began to consider hospice care. We know it is the right thing to do but have struggled with determining when the right time is. When the hospice representative came to the house for a consultation, we learned hospice care is focused on making the patient comfortable during the last few months of life, commonly referred to as comfort care. In other words, dad would be provided with medication to reduce any pain he may be feeling. The difficulty we’ve had with the decision has been in order for dad to be in a hospice program the healthcare system will no longer pay for his medication or doctor visits to his specialist, neurologist or nephrologist. Hospice will only pay for his primary physician. This would result in dad being cut off from most of his medication. If we would like to keep dad on those medications, insulin and Carbidopa, it would become an out of pocket expense.
As for our healthcare system, cutting off dad’s insulin is one sure way to ensure he doesn’t exceed the allocated months of hospice care. In fact, it would end his life rather quickly. Voicing our concerns to the hospice representative made her uncomfortable. She was unable to commit to being able to keep dad on his necessary medication.
Last week we took our parent’s to the Memory and Aging Center at UCSF. The physicians there confirmed they are in the advanced stages of their diseases. They would support our decision for hospice care for dad, agreeing he needs to remain on his insulin and Carbidopa, the Parkinson’s medication. Without the Parkinson’s medication dad becomes ridged. Moving him would be like moving a board.
We were shocked to learn how much weight mom has lost. The last time mom’s primary physician weighed her she was at 125 lbs., mom now weights 104 lbs. We are unable to weigh dad, because he is unable to stand. We suspect he is at about 115 lbs. The doctor and nurses recommend puree foods for dad, even for his soups. Fortunately, we had already shifted towards this, providing dad with baby foods. We were provided with additional education on what to expect as they move into the late stages of their diseases. The likelihood is that mom and dad will not die from their disease but from phenomena, caused by food entering the lungs. What made our visit to the Memory and Aging Center worth the time and effort was the compassion from the staff and the Social Service Support.
We recognize we are in a unique situation, caregiving for two parents with neurological disorders at the same time. There is no sugar coating it, it is difficult. We’ll find ourselves questioning right from wrong with greater frequency. “Are we prolonging their life by providing essential medication, such as a Dad’s insulin? Are they in pain and just not telling us? Is the pain, caused by being aware of what is happening and should we be placing dad in hospice care in order to reduce his level of awareness?” What we do know is there are no easy or clear answers.
Dad is my hero. It’s hard for the heart to let go even when the mind knows it’s the right thing to do. Dad celebrated his 93rd birthday on the 9th of September. He has had a good life.