The "H" word . . .

Bob and Rocco, sharing a meal . . .

As of last Friday, we've officially made the transition from Fairview's TLC program to hospice. {{{deep breath}}} There. I said it. The "h" word. A word that heaves and bends under the weight of so much emotion . . . the main reason we made the transition (besides the obvious) is that, after talking to the social worker last week and telling her how completely and utter overwhelmed we felt with the number of home visits we were getting, hospice seems more appropriate. First of all, we aren't seeking any more treatments, so having so many people checking in on Bob is overkill. Seriously, some days, we had three or more visits from nurses/therapists/social workers/whatevers coming in and out of the joint, I was ready to scream. Felt like a new mother with a baby—forget about showers, putting on real clothes, eating a real meal, not to mention grocery shopping or other errands . . . not that they all weren't incredibly nice and helpful, just that it got to be so disruptive and more than a tad unnerving, having so many strangers in and out of here. . .

Maybe a quick explanation is in order before I continue: Fairview has three levels of home care. The first is your basic home health care, the goals being to help the patient achieve as much independence as possible, given the specific circumstances. Many medical professionals are likely involved in achieving this independence, and curative/ongoing treatments are part of the plan (chemo, dialysis, rehab, etc.), though terminal illness isn't really a factor. The TLC program is a "bridge" between home health care and hospice, providing a little bit of each, some treatments may still be pursued, but mostly focusing on palliative care/comfort (these patients may be terminally ill, but there is no "timeline" per se on the prognosis). Hospice focuses on quality of life, comfort, pain management, but there is no real focus on 'getting better,' or on curative treatments. Time frame is usually six months or less . . .

Anyhow, all that's heavy stuff that's much too much for this blog any more . . . on Sunday, we

got Bob out for breakfast, to the Woodbury Cafe, with his mom and dad. Get this: it was the first time in over a year, peeps that Bob's done anything beyond the confines of hospital walls or our house. Ruminate that one for a moment or two, if you will . . . all went pretty well, though as Bob said, you don't realize how handicap in-accessible the world is until you're handicapped. We got to the restaurant, found no handicap parking spaces available, so Jim let us off at the door, where Bob had to maneuver across the slippery, snow-packed road, make his way between ice chunks, up the curb, onto the icy sidewalk and into the building. With a walker and a bum leg encased in an ortho brace and heavy Darco boot, to boot . . .

In spite of the obstacle course, Bob expertly dodged and maneuvered the route, as though he'd done it countless times already. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything less. . . After a short wait, we were ushered to a booth and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast at the cafe. I believe the same people who own the Louisiana Cafe in St. Paul run this same operation, and we all highly recommend it. All four of us had a wonderful meal, great portions, reasonably priced, and pleasant atmosphere/service. They're only open for breakfast and lunch, so get there early.

Tomorrow (Thursday), we're going to try to venture out to meet my sisters and my mom for a late lunch. Coincides with a house showing, so it should work out just fine . . . maybe head Punch pizza, maybe a burger at the Groveland Tap. . . then again, knowing Bob, it could very well be White Castle, god help us all . . .

Life in the "h" lane is slow, for the most part, uneventful and despite the many heavy emotions, thoughts, feelings and all, as peaceful as it has been all year. . . for that, ever so grateful, if not heavy hearted . . .