Carol's condition seemed worse to me today. According to the nurse, she was talking nonstop except when they sedated her so she could get some sleep. The talk was mostly about Henryetta, Dorothy, Carl, her parents, and other unknown persons from that period. Her voice is quite hoarse from the talking, as she can't drink anything and won't take ice. When I arrived I thought there was a man in the room talking to her but it was just her monolog.
Sometimes it seemed to be dialogues between Carol and another person, in which she was recalling both sides of the dialogue. When the stomach pain increases she gets very restless and agitated. Her doctor has authorized pain medication on demand, but I hope she can be at least as lucid as she was Friday, when she talks to Dorothy and Granville tomorrow. But the drugs tend to make her groggy.
I am going to try to call Dorothy from Carol's room tomorrow morning. She desperately wants to be free of her IV and stomach tubes and catheter, but she can't eat anything or manage her urination, so I don't see any way around that. To prevent her from injury from tearing the tubes out, her hands are tied down, as they were after her stroke surgery.
I wish the news were better. On Monday, Granville plans to arrange some kind of hospice situation. It may be that she can stay at Mission Hospital, or it might be better to transfer back to Aliso Laguna Village or elsewhere.
I hope the Chinese genetics are dominant. I don't want to be like my grandmother when I'm old. I don't want to be sickly and have my brain taken away from me. I don't want to be trapped in a failing body. I just don't want to be old.
If I have a biggest fear, this is it. Right there. I don't want to be like her.
I haven't visited my dad's parents because seeing Grandma like that just makes me think "That's in my genetics; someday I'll be like that" and I just can't bear it.