Today they tell us they are providing “supportive care.” It means there is nothing they can do except hope and pray that her body can fight hard enough to survive.
The dialysis should be working by now. They have filled her with so much fluid these past four days, but none of it is coming back out. Her kidneys are refusing to function.
She’s puffy and uncomfortable. Constantly asking for water, begging us to get the tube out of her throat. I’ve been sitting in this room for four days and have to look at her and deny her all of the things she wants most.
She has had so many visitors. Some she has been awake for, others unable to rouse. I can;t quite tell if she knows who everyone is. But she does her best to nod and squeeze people’s hands. Even after all that got her here, she is trying to comfort every person that walks in the door.
All we can do is sit and wait. I’m watching the clock, reading the results of her blood work every 6 hours. Hoping for small improvements, anything that suggests she is getting better.
Tonight we’ll watch Wheel of Fortune. It will give us thirty minutes of normalcy we haven’t had and we don’t know how important these moments will be to us once it gets worse.
And it will get worse.