'Probably the best thing for him', I thought, watching his hand tremor as I drank my morning coffee.
I went in and began to read up on strokes and TIAs. It is hard for me to believe that Tim has had one. He's never had high cholestrol. He is faithful in his BP medication. He is active. He doesn't have any of the risk factors. I could not set aside my stubborn idea that this cold that turned into a cough that went on and on, disrupting his sleep, exhausting him, wearing him down for weeks had something to do with it. The two rounds of antibiotics that are believed to have caused his c-diff. The c-diff leading to dehydration, dangerously low blood pressure. His kidneys were not doing an effective job, and the toxins were building up in his body. And what IS a TIA anyway, but decreased/interrupted blood flow to the brain?
So, following up on things, I began to read, and discovered that I was right, that there IS a link between strokes and dehydration. There was an awful lot of information about it, even. I cried with relief. I'd been so worried about the chances of another stroke. For the first time, I got the idea that if we keep Tim hydrated and healthy, we will not have this problem again.
What a cheering thought that was.
Tim woke up. I gave him his medications and then he laid back down. He was sound asleep almost instandly. I debated whether to wake him for lunch but decided against it, thinking that I could just fix him a late lunch when he woke up. Except....he slept straight through 'til supper time. He ate a few bites of supper, but went right back to sleep. While he was sleeping, I watched him and realized that his right hand was no longer twitching.
My sister was excited about this, sharing some information she found on line that indicated tremors and twitching could be a sign of the body 'reconnecting' and that it was a good thing. She also said that sleeping was a good sign as well. I could hardly believe that and had to go read it for myself.
I felt myself even more cheered.
I also want to take a moment to tell all of you thanks. I haven't had a lot of time, but your comments were so very appreciated. Many times when I read other blogs, people facing a hard time, or struggling a little, it touches me to see how everyone rallies around with kind and encouraging words. Someone always says that we have become a little community. I agree with that. This scary time was the first time that I've been on the receiving end of it. That little community gathered around me, and I have rediscovered the importance of an encouraging word. I am grateful for all of you.
Houdini has watched the activity going on from the safety of his cozy bed. His supper time is not as regular as it was. He always has his dry food, but his evening helping of canned catfood, slightly warmed in the microwave doesn't appear with the clockwork regularity he has become used to. His favorite human (William) has been away having a fine time with his cousins. For four days, someone has been stopping in at night to give him his canned catfood and make sure his kibble and water dishes are full, but for the rest of the time, he's been exploring a suddenly empty house.
Now we are home again. Tonight, sitting on the couch, I noticed him at the kitchen door staring across the hall into the livingroom. Guiltily, I said, "Oh, no, you haven't had supper yet." He looked at me as I spoke, dropped to the floor and laid on his side, He almost looked playful. I got up and went to the kitchen talking to him like I usually do, and went to the refrigerator. He followed. I took the cat food over to the counter, and got the freshly washed cat dish that was waiting at the side of the sink. I filled it and popped it into the microwave. He followed me. When I carried his bowl over to the mat where he eats, I always pick up the dirty food dish and bring it to the sink to fill with soapy water and let it sit over night. Much to my surprise, Houdini did not stay over with his food. He followed me back to the sink.
I reached down my hand and he approached for a pet. He has never come to me to be petted, although he does tolerate being petted in his safe place, his bed. I sat down on the floor and I petted him while he rolled around in delight. When I stopped petting, he sat up and brushed his head against my leg. I patted my lap, and he looked tempted but he didn't get up the nerve to be quite that friendly. We played so long that Tim came out to see what is going on. "I'd like to see more of that," said the man who doesn't like cats.
I noticed his hand was twitching again. "Why don't we go to bed?" I said.
And so we did.
I lay in the dark being very grateful.