My Battle with Merkel Cell Cancer

used it), some stuff for my mom, and materials to modify his glasses to fit the BiPAP
mask. He never did wear his glasses again -- by the time I had the materials to modify the
glasses, he never got to the point where he was interested in wearing them.
The thing I think he didn't consider about the BiPAP mask is that it is like a mini hurricane
when the patient tries to lift the mask to talk. If the patient doesn't lift the mask, the
sounds are muffled. So once they fitted him with the mask, there would be no intimate
whispers, no final lengthy conversations. Communications reduced to signs, words,
sometimes sentences. We, of course, talked with him a lot. His inability to respond was
probably more frustrating to him than anybody else. He couldn't see clearly or talk clearly
due to the BiPAP mask. Layered on top of the hearing loss from the earlier chemo round,
he was limited in his interactions with the world. Perhaps it was how he wanted it. He
started to close his eyes more often, and at times he looked like he was dreaming
peacefully. My heart imagines him dreaming of good days during those moments.
They finally took dad to the ICU. This marked the second time my mom and I were forced
to spend time away from dad. We followed his bed to the ICU, but they stopped us at the
door and said they needed to be alone with him to get him set up and do the intake. We
waited in the ICU waiting room. The ICU waiting room was decorated with borderlinedepressing
images so bland they were probably unnoticed by the others in the room. The
television was blaring with an A&E show about a bounty hunter. Mom and I sat next to
each other. We were told we would be called back soon, but it took nearly 45 minutes.
Ultimately, we got back in by following a nurse through the doors. Not following protocol,
but nobody complained.
When we got in, I introduced myself to the nurse and asked the questions I had learned
to ask during the last stay. The first question -- did he get Dilaudid yet? Yes. In better
times, dad wasn't a big drinker and didn't use painkillers in a serious way. In fact, he often
ignored his Vicodin prescription during the weeks leading to this day in favor of a simple
Advil. So he was very sensitive to painkillers. And he'd asked for more than he usually
asked for during his prior hospital stay. A smart doctor, in respiratory distress, very
responsive to low dose Dilaudid, yet receiving a higher dose than normal. He wasn't
going to suffer on the way out, and cancer wasn't going to get extra days of artificial life
support during which it could torment him.
Soon they wheeled dad out for a CT scan and again banished us to the ICU waiting
room. They again took a long time before letting us in to see him. I suspect he was
instructing the nursing staff at this point and wanted privacy to give some blunt
instructions to them.
** Email: Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2012 17:11:24 -0700
Subject: Ct done
Dad just got back from ct scan. They wont yet let us in to see him. No real news for the
moment but hopefully know more soon
Sent from my iPhone **
We were in no mood to remain banished to the waiting room, so we were appreciative
when the cardiologist came by, got us from the waiting room, and took us into the ICU so
we could participate in the conversation with dad.
As I wrote two months ago, during dad's past hospitalization, around 2:30 a.m. one night
he developed a sinus tachycardia of around 120 beats per minute, and around 3:00 a.m.
My Battle with Merkel Cell Cancer
147