So Maybe He's Not a Wimp

Oh, sure. Now I just feel terrible for calling him a wimp.


Yesterday was probably the worst day Johnny Brawley has ever had. Ever.

When he woke up, he wasn’t feeling well, but just couldn’t figure out what was going to happen. Constipation vs. Firerhea. He had stomach pain up high and said his stomach felt “tight”.

Other than giving him anti-nausea meds, I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t give him Colace if he was going to end up with diarrhea. I couldn’t give him Imodium if he was going to end up constipated. Since this was our first time with this chemo, we just kinda had to wait and see.

That was probably a mistake.

When the diarrhea and vomiting started, it was like chasing down a runaway train. He couldn’t keep anything in, and even if he tried, medicine wasn’t going to stay in if we actually got it in. Things spiraled downhill pretty quickly.

Again, without being graphic, there were times that the potty was occupied, and he still needed the bucket. I was there to empty the bucket in the other bathroom, as quickly as possible, because he needed it almost non-stop for a while. He was so weak he could barely keep his head held up, and most of the time rested his head in a towel that he held in both hands. I tried to keep him cooled off with a cold washcloth, but I think that was more for me than him.

I finally called the MHO office (after hours) and the nurse on-call gave me a call right back. She told me to wait until he had gone 10 minutes or so without vomiting and to double up on some of his anti-nausea meds. I also started the CPT-11 Imodium protocol which basically means I have to give Imodium every two hours continuously until he has had no diarrhea for 12 hours. Let me just say, that is a lot of Imodium.

Sometime after midnight, he managed to get the anti-nausea/anti-emetic meds down and they stayed down. I think that was our turning point.

At one point I can remember thinking to myself that I was so happy he had put on 20 pounds while on the other chemo protocol, because that was already melting away before my eyes. His legs, arms, and booty look so thin already. I just prayed and prayed that it wouldn’t continue like this for the next chemo rounds. I could sense that Johnny was feeling beaten down from being so sick so soon. It was on his face, and in my heart.

As his wife, there are so many times that I feel so completely helpless. I can’t take it away, I can’t make it better, I can’t stop it from happening. I just have to concentrate on doing what I can do: keeping his cup filled, giving his meds on time, warming up his feet before bed, and telling him I love him.

No matter what I do to try to make him comfy, he always says, “Thank you.” Most of the time, that makes me cry. I usually say something like, “You don’t have to thank me.” And he always say, “Yes, I do.”

Man, I love him.

So, during the night last night, I woke him every couple hours for his Imodium pills. When he would take them, I would tell him to drink as much as he possibly could. I think he actually managed about 12 ounces through the night. I was really happy with that.


When he woke this morning (for more pills) he said he felt a lot better already. He basically stayed in bed until about 1:30, when I told him he really needed a shower. No, really. Bad. I envisioned those prison movies when they hose down the new detainees. That’s the kind of shower he needed.

We settled for one at our house. I put a step stool in the shower for him to sit on and he actually managed very nicely. He said that made a huge difference in how he felt. After he rested for a little bit, I gave him a delightful pedicure (DON’T GET ME STARTED ON NASTY FEET!) and then made him some soup for lunch. Ok, well, my dad made the soup, but I warmed it up to the exact right temperature. He ate a little and had a bit more to drink. I was satisfied and told him if he kept drinking throughout the day, I wouldn’t nag.

Basically, that was all he ate today, but he’s had almost 40 ounces of fluids. Probably not even close to re-hydrated, but we are still walking a fine line here.

He is already in bed for the night (8:30), but I will force fluids on him when I wake him for the Imodium and other meds he still has to take.

I’m hoping (and praying) that tomorrow will have a more normal rhythm to it, for his sake.