There's a man in my window...

Yesterday, after a long hug with Dad and Diane and a visit to Mom's grave site, I headed out of Stillwater for Maryland. I drove as far as the familiar McDonald's just beyond a Tulsa Turnpike toll booth when Jill called. She said something changed with Craig, something was different and she didn't have a good feeling about it.

After returning to Denver, Craig has fallen into increasingly deeper sleeps from sheer exhaustion; he sleeps longer through the day; hallucinates even when awake; and winces more from pain. Over the weekend, his hallucinating took a metaphorical turn that seemed to reflect growing unease and distress relative to his cancer burden. (Jill can explain the intricate details of these waking dreams.)

Hallucinations aren't really anything new for us. Back in the day, I'd walk into his room to give him his meds and find him swimming in air. He'd eventually wake himself and explain that he was swimming freestyle, and that he can never swim again with is TPN--something he deeply missed. Other occasions, he'd put shrimp back into a basket, count money, play cards, eat food, you name it. It would always bring a smile to my face despite how sad it was to witness. One time he said "there's a man in my window". I zipped around and looked out his 31st floor window as if to actually see something. Why I looked is beyond me--perhaps it was from a lingering childhood fear of Salom's Lot and vampires scratching on windows (it could happen, right?). I turned back to him and said, "Boy that's scary". He followed up with "and he's carrying a filing cabinet". "Not so scary anymore, buddy", I said. Pretty sure I was never scared of flying admin assistants when I was young.

In any event, as a standalone, hallucinations wouldn't necessarily be that alarming, but when paired with increased pain, labored and shallow breathing, and a relatively sudden distended belly that would put any beer-drinking college boy to shame, we grew concerned. I recall having a conversation with Dr. Flaig in which we discussed when it would be appropriate to take Craig to the hospital after realizing that hospital visits would not likely yield much success in terms of helping Craig, despite running a battery of tests. His baseline of nausea, pain, fatigue and the like is simply part of the package. If this is so, we tried to identify what new symptoms or conditions would necessitate a visit. Dr. Flaig identified a change in cognition or awareness such that it would take more time and more effort to arouse C from a sleepy or foggy-headed state; any respiratory changes; dramatic increase in pain; and, an increase in vomiting as reason to take further measures. Any one of those conditions would warrant further attention; Craig was exhibiting symptoms in all categories, plus fluid in his abdomen.

Jill called his palliative care team and someone who was on call for urologic oncology over the weekend. (Good ol' weekend). She wisely decided to take Craig in with their support. I decided to turn around and head to Denver to be with him; Diane arrived today. Craig has his sisters with him as he battles these new hurdles.

Family is everything--ours has dropped from 6 to 5 not even three weeks ago with the threat of it dropping further. We hope that time will be kind to Craig and the family. If it isn't, I'd like to spend what time is left by his side as I was with Mom, taking each day as it comes.

~E