“I wishwe’d gotten involved sooner,” Creedtoldme.
Whensheandthehospice’ssupervisingdoctor,JoAnne
Nowak,evaluatedGallowayuponhisarrivalathome,he
appeared to haveonly a few days left.His eyes were
hollow. His breathing was labored. Fluid swelled his
entirelowerbodytothepointthathisskinblisteredand
wept. He was almost delirious with abdominal pain.
Theygottowork.Theysetupapainpumpwithabutton
thatlethimdispensehigherdosesofnarcoticthanhehad
beenallowed.Theyarrangedforanelectrichospitalbed,
sothat hecouldsleepwith his backraised.Theyalso
taughtSharonhowtokeepDaveclean,protecthisskin
frombreakdown, andhandle thecrises tocome.Creed
toldmethatpartofherjobistotakethemeasureofa
patient’s family, and Sharon struck her as unusually
capable.Shewasdeterminedtotakecareofherhusband
totheend,andperhapsbecauseshewasafirefighter,she
hadtheresilienceandthecompetencetodoso.Shedid
not want to hire a private-duty nurse. She handled
everything, from the IV lines and the bed linens to
orchestratingfamilymembersto lenda handwhenshe
needed help.
Creedarranged fora specialized “comfort pack”to be
deliveredbyFedExand storedin aminirefrigeratorby
Dave’s bed. It contained a dose of morphine for
breakthrough pain or shortness of breath, Ativan for
anxiety attacks, Compazine for nausea, Haldol for
delirium,Tylenolforfever,andatropinefordryingupthe
wetupper-airwayrattlethatpeoplecangetintheirfinal
hours. If any such problem developed, Sharon was
instructedtocallthetwenty-four-hourhospicenurseon