Wednesday - Worrisome Agitation

 Dad (and Dave) had a tough night last night.  From midnight to 4 AM Dad was very agitated, kicking off his covers, wanting to take off his t-shirt and pants, asking for a knife to cut away his clothes -- he believed he was caught, and stuck on barbed wire or something, and he could not get away.  Sometimes he thought he was in a prison.  Even after getting his meds, it took quite a while for him to calm down and sleep again.

When I came over at 8 in the morning, he sat on the side of the bed and we administered his morning pills (crushing them and putting them in water).  He then easily let me feed him half a bowl of Cream of Wheat.  He was tired, so we got him situated in bed (which involves getting him to lie down then moving him up towards the head of the bed using a sheet under him, as he cannot  move himself - at 6' tall he needs to have his head only a few inches from the top.  It's difficult for the two of us to move him.)  He talked and half-slept for only an hour before he wanted up again.

He was still kicking off his covers, trying to rip away his shirt, and wanted scissors to cut his pants.  I had to wonder if this dream was metaphorically related to being stuck on Earth (call me crazy).  I told him that being stuck is only in his mind, that he really is free, that he needs to concentrate on happy thoughts and don't think he is stuck.  I am saying all this as he is pulling at this shirt, moaning (but breathing fine, he was not gasping for breath), and telling me to help him get free.  Finally, he says to me, Don't give me that psychological sh*t.

I gave him a good wash up, including shampoo, and he seemed very relaxed, until he laid down again.  He talked and talked, sometimes aware I was there, sometimes when I thought he didn't notice, I left for a little while until I heard him talking louder.

At 2 PM our Hospice nurse Beth arrived.  Since Dad hadn't had a BM for 6 days (though he has eaten hardly anything) she needed to alleviate that problem.  Fortunately Dad was very cooperative.  He kept asking for a doctor, though, as he felt we didn't know what we were doing.  Eventually, the conversation came around to his dying.  Beth was very sensitive and let Dad lead the conversation.

We finally got him settled back in bed, calm and with his covers - until Beth left, and the same agitation started all over again.  Keep in mind, Dad had not slept soundly since midnight, and he normally takes a good long nap mid-morning and in the afternoon.

I sat with him longer - Other than when Beth was here, I was at his side virtually all day.  This time he wanted me to give him a gun so he could shoot himself.  He was actually the most lucid I had heard him in days.  He said it was his plan to shoot himself if he was sick, but he let this sickness go too long and now he is too weak to get his gun.  He told me Dave and I should give him his gun, then leave the room, then no one will know who to blame when it's all over.  I've been telling him I don't have a gun, and he's going to have to let his life run its course.  He says he will have to think of some other way.

He had his 'dinner' of pears and pudding and his evening pills, but has been restless ever since.  We called Hospice to see what can be done, and they suggested we increase his anti-anxiety medication.  I tell you what, it's hard enough to see Dad in this physically declining state, but to have him so agitated he can't sleep, with the awful dreams, makes it even harder.  I have another 30 minutes before I can give him his next dose, so I'll go talk to him for a while longer.