Yesterday was always going to be a busy day. Get up early to zoom over to the house and pick up some much need items (books! need books!), over to Mom's doctor's appointment, two different banks, and then back to Karen's in only a couple hours. It's tight, especially given that I didn't sleep a wink the previous night and Mom, even though she's walking independently w/o the walker, still needs me for support and tires easily.
So I'm walking around like a zombie getting everything ready, but when I get out to the CR-V the little remote open-the-doors clicky thing doesn't work. Great, on a day like this, the battery died. But it's a slight inconvenience and it doesn't really matter. Until I put the key in the ignition.
And turn it.
And nothing happens.
No little red signs. No ticks. No rr-rrrs. No nothin'.
My sister tried it, but she too lacked the magical touch. By the time AAA was called and the technician came out, we had passed the point of no return for Mom's appointment. She missed the doctor. And the worst news of all: the battery is completely dead. Not one volt left. The little printout said it's supposed to have something like 400 amps and it had 200. This is an ex-battery.
Great. Now we have to go home to leave the CR-V and pick up another car, like my Pathfinder. So we make it, no trouble. Dad's there and he takes it to our mechanic to get the battery and oil changed. Everything's hunky-dory.
Until I walk into my room. My nightmare this whole time at Karen's is that Dad might feel compelled to clean my room. It's a mess. Even for me, it's a complete wreck. I favor an organizational scheme based on piles, which drives Dad nuts, and he's always trying to get me to clean it, even when I consider it fine. Now that I'm gone, I feared he might take the initiative and just do it.
And he did.
And now I can't find anything. All my books, which were so lovingly organized, now pishaw! Just higgledy-piggledy! Everything is now re-arranged and I don't know where to find anything anymore. Yargh. Turns out he didn't even do it for me: someone's coming to see the bathroom off my room and he didn't want them to walk through a messy room.
Okay, so I get past that; Mom and I get ready to leave. A storm comes! I get rained on while I pack up the Pathfinder.
At this point we're still trying to make it back to Karen's for Mums' 4:00 physical therapy appointment. Despite having to go the bank. And my unfortunate stomach ailment, which I won't discuss here for reasons of tact.
So we get to the bank just fine - despite the rain! - but when I turn the key in the ignition, guess what? In the ignition of a DIFFERENT car from this morning? Oh, wait! It starts and then phizitch!!
Nothing.
I turn it again.
The air bag light comes on.
I bang my head into the steering wheel, "Not again!"
Oh, yes. Again.
I wait a couple minutes and try it. There's that pesky air bag and a few ghostly lights on the dashboard, but that's about it. So. We call AAA. Again. For the SECOND time THAT DAY. Do you know when the last time I called them was? Pro'lly 8 years ago. I must be breaking a record.
We wait, with my unfortunate stomach, and call Karen, who declares Mums and me 'car jinxes'. Until Bret, his rock star blond hair, and his tow truck arrive. It's the battery this time, but it's good. The connections, though? Awful. They're corroded and loose and we should take it to get maintenance as soon as possible or it's just going to happen again.
We've now completely missed Mom's physical therapy appointment, but at least we get home safe. I try to drive my poor, little Pathfinder (Ethel) as softly as possible so as not to shake something loose. But evidently something must have happened, because it won't start today.
Sigh.
I need a horse.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Train of Thought derailed at the station
There are 818 messages in my inbox. I'm not usually good with email, but this is extreme, even for me. Thank goodness for gmail's new 'important' filter. Haven't done more than skimmed the subject lines since June, really. Haven't had the time, what with Mom being sick and taking care of her. Haven't even had the time to write in complete sentences. 'Course, i' they were commands, then they'd be complete sentences, 'cause the subject of the phrase would be understood.
I'm sorry. But I can't sleep. It's 1am, and I've been lying here for an hour waiting to ride the soul train to the sweet Land of Nod, but the engineer got stuck in traffic and everything's runnin' behind schedule. This is not good, because tomorrow starts bright and early and lasts long 'til the 'noon sun sinks to the Western hills. I need my beauty rest. No, I need my let's-not-get-a-migraine-and-forget-how-to-drive rest.
Okay, have run out of things to say. Except this: Alexander Hamilton? Omigod. Handsome! Have you looked at a $10 bill lately? Do so immediately. Chiseled jaw, strong brow, sleek cheek. Mm-hmm. If given my choice of the founding fathers, I'm taking Hamilton. I can't quite get past Washington's wooden teeth. And the name George. Not sexy, the name George. Sort of like Esmerelda. Just not sexy. Alexander, though? Good name! I approve. It's all strong and Alex-Baldwin-like in 'The Hunt for Red October'. Good movie, that. I approve of that, too. Sean Connery as a Russian defector with the worst Russian accent ever; 'course he was Bond, once. My sister asked me how old James Bond is supposed to be in the movies. I thought 30s - 40s, max. She said 40s to 50s! Bond! 50?! I don't see it. Daniel Craig preparing for AARP? I shudder at the thought.
Um. So, that's what happens when I let my mind wander. Imagine that, 24/7! With some random literary references, and you've basically got my brain. Especially sleep deprived. Time for bed, I think, and, hopefully, sleep.
I'm sorry. But I can't sleep. It's 1am, and I've been lying here for an hour waiting to ride the soul train to the sweet Land of Nod, but the engineer got stuck in traffic and everything's runnin' behind schedule. This is not good, because tomorrow starts bright and early and lasts long 'til the 'noon sun sinks to the Western hills. I need my beauty rest. No, I need my let's-not-get-a-migraine-and-forget-how-to-drive rest.
Okay, have run out of things to say. Except this: Alexander Hamilton? Omigod. Handsome! Have you looked at a $10 bill lately? Do so immediately. Chiseled jaw, strong brow, sleek cheek. Mm-hmm. If given my choice of the founding fathers, I'm taking Hamilton. I can't quite get past Washington's wooden teeth. And the name George. Not sexy, the name George. Sort of like Esmerelda. Just not sexy. Alexander, though? Good name! I approve. It's all strong and Alex-Baldwin-like in 'The Hunt for Red October'. Good movie, that. I approve of that, too. Sean Connery as a Russian defector with the worst Russian accent ever; 'course he was Bond, once. My sister asked me how old James Bond is supposed to be in the movies. I thought 30s - 40s, max. She said 40s to 50s! Bond! 50?! I don't see it. Daniel Craig preparing for AARP? I shudder at the thought.
Um. So, that's what happens when I let my mind wander. Imagine that, 24/7! With some random literary references, and you've basically got my brain. Especially sleep deprived. Time for bed, I think, and, hopefully, sleep.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Good news!
I've slept! It was the most beautiful thing in the world. Mmm, sleeping. Better and more welcome than a snog. Saturday night I laid my head on my pillow and drifted happily to the Land of Nod, escorted by a cotillion of sheep. Absobloody amazing.
The trouble, apparently, was not the flu, but detoxing. Ah, detox. How I hate thee. It's sort of a long story, but the gist of it is that one of my migraine meds ran out while my mom was in the hospital and I didn't have a way to get to the doctor so he could renew the prescription. I just titrated myself off the dose gradually over the course of a week-and-a-half and thought it was okay. When I started feeling like the black death, I just figured I'd picked something up from the hospital or my sister's kids. But while browsing the web yesterday, I happened upon information about that drug. And apparently it takes 6 MONTHS to titrate off. Um, yeah. That's just a teensy longer than a week-and-a-half; no wonder I've been feeling like a plague rat.
On a bright note, though, I lost 7 pounds! Not eating for a couple weeks will do that for ya - not recommending it, mind you.
My dad has stopped calling. The first week we were here, he called every night to check in and came by on Sunday. But now there's nothing. No call or voicemail or even e-mail. This is probably the happiest my parents have ever been in their married life. Dad gets to do exactly what he wants, when he wants, in the manner he wants to do it without having to check with anyone else; and Mom is free of Dad's presence. It's an ideal arrangement for the two. I very sincerely hope that this time at my sister's helps Mom either divorce him or legally separate. There's just been too much misery there for too long. It's not healthy for either of them.
Well, that killed the mood.
On a happy note, my mom is doing great. She's been feeling better than me these past two weeks. She's upbeat, perky, and back to her old self. I was beginning to lose hope, but she's really rallied.
The trouble, apparently, was not the flu, but detoxing. Ah, detox. How I hate thee. It's sort of a long story, but the gist of it is that one of my migraine meds ran out while my mom was in the hospital and I didn't have a way to get to the doctor so he could renew the prescription. I just titrated myself off the dose gradually over the course of a week-and-a-half and thought it was okay. When I started feeling like the black death, I just figured I'd picked something up from the hospital or my sister's kids. But while browsing the web yesterday, I happened upon information about that drug. And apparently it takes 6 MONTHS to titrate off. Um, yeah. That's just a teensy longer than a week-and-a-half; no wonder I've been feeling like a plague rat.
On a bright note, though, I lost 7 pounds! Not eating for a couple weeks will do that for ya - not recommending it, mind you.
My dad has stopped calling. The first week we were here, he called every night to check in and came by on Sunday. But now there's nothing. No call or voicemail or even e-mail. This is probably the happiest my parents have ever been in their married life. Dad gets to do exactly what he wants, when he wants, in the manner he wants to do it without having to check with anyone else; and Mom is free of Dad's presence. It's an ideal arrangement for the two. I very sincerely hope that this time at my sister's helps Mom either divorce him or legally separate. There's just been too much misery there for too long. It's not healthy for either of them.
Well, that killed the mood.
On a happy note, my mom is doing great. She's been feeling better than me these past two weeks. She's upbeat, perky, and back to her old self. I was beginning to lose hope, but she's really rallied.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Status Report
It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I can't sleep. I haven't been able to sleep for the past two weeks. For the last couple of nights, it's because of restless legs - if the CIA could do it, they'd use it at Gitmo. My muscles and sinews are being played like the harpsichord and it's damned awful.
Of course, sleeping problems could come from my sudden and drastic change in living quarters. My mom and I are living with my sister Karen, now. My sisters and I had been thinking for quite a while that our dad was more of a hindrance than a help to mom's healing. They, um, have some issues. So when she was in the hospital for pneumonia the last time - oh, did I mention she went back into the hospital?
To review: she had bilateral pneumonia in July and spent basically the whole month in a hospital of one form or another. When she came home, she was doing really well, but after a week of weird neurological events that no one can seem to explain, she started going downhill. My dad refused to accept her frailty, state of being, and general illness, and instead demanded that she get up, do chores, and threatened to get rid of her wheelchair. Anyway, she got to the point one Saturday that I took her to the ER, who did a CT scan showing she had pneumonia again, but discharged her saying, essentially, there's nothing wrong with her. We followed up with one of her docs and she was admitted to the hospital, where she stayed for 5 days. She came home Saturday and on Sunday I packed both of us up and drove to Karen's. It's across the street from Sabino Canyon, so it's gorgeous and peaceful. But small. But not like a Tardis. So Mom's on a hospital bed in the living room and I'm on a mattress squeezed between boxes in the loft Karen's using for storage. It's atop a tight spiral staircase and a bit of a risk to traverse when you're tired or not paying attention.
My beautiful, blessed dog is staying at my other sister's, Amy, house. No room for her here; besides I'd have to get up at 5 and stay up to walk her. That's no good. Especially since I've had a rat-nasty flu for the past two weeks. TWO WEEKS! I haven't eaten anything in a good week-and-a-half, which, on a bright side has helped me lose some weight. Did I also mention that I've gained like 30 or 40lb.s? I'm getting cellulite on the front of my legs. THE FRONT!!!Despite what you might expect, hospital cafetrias do not have healthy food: a sad&measly salad bar, pizza, fries, hot dogs, vending machines full of chocolate. A rolling stone may carry no moss, but god, once I started putting on weight, it just padded it on.
So this is my new life. Living in a loft on a mattress, without my dog. Haven't seen anyone besides my family or medical professionals since June. I am exhausted. I'm chubby. My legs are restless. My head hurts. And damn it, I need a good snog. One day I will feel better, and one day I will have a social life. Just not right now.
Of course, sleeping problems could come from my sudden and drastic change in living quarters. My mom and I are living with my sister Karen, now. My sisters and I had been thinking for quite a while that our dad was more of a hindrance than a help to mom's healing. They, um, have some issues. So when she was in the hospital for pneumonia the last time - oh, did I mention she went back into the hospital?
To review: she had bilateral pneumonia in July and spent basically the whole month in a hospital of one form or another. When she came home, she was doing really well, but after a week of weird neurological events that no one can seem to explain, she started going downhill. My dad refused to accept her frailty, state of being, and general illness, and instead demanded that she get up, do chores, and threatened to get rid of her wheelchair. Anyway, she got to the point one Saturday that I took her to the ER, who did a CT scan showing she had pneumonia again, but discharged her saying, essentially, there's nothing wrong with her. We followed up with one of her docs and she was admitted to the hospital, where she stayed for 5 days. She came home Saturday and on Sunday I packed both of us up and drove to Karen's. It's across the street from Sabino Canyon, so it's gorgeous and peaceful. But small. But not like a Tardis. So Mom's on a hospital bed in the living room and I'm on a mattress squeezed between boxes in the loft Karen's using for storage. It's atop a tight spiral staircase and a bit of a risk to traverse when you're tired or not paying attention.
My beautiful, blessed dog is staying at my other sister's, Amy, house. No room for her here; besides I'd have to get up at 5 and stay up to walk her. That's no good. Especially since I've had a rat-nasty flu for the past two weeks. TWO WEEKS! I haven't eaten anything in a good week-and-a-half, which, on a bright side has helped me lose some weight. Did I also mention that I've gained like 30 or 40lb.s? I'm getting cellulite on the front of my legs. THE FRONT!!!Despite what you might expect, hospital cafetrias do not have healthy food: a sad&measly salad bar, pizza, fries, hot dogs, vending machines full of chocolate. A rolling stone may carry no moss, but god, once I started putting on weight, it just padded it on.
So this is my new life. Living in a loft on a mattress, without my dog. Haven't seen anyone besides my family or medical professionals since June. I am exhausted. I'm chubby. My legs are restless. My head hurts. And damn it, I need a good snog. One day I will feel better, and one day I will have a social life. Just not right now.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
No love for the food
My mom is a wonderful person who loves people unconditionally. This is not to be said of food. When we go to an Italian restaurant, she always orders fettuccine alfredo, but asks for the alfredo sauce on the side. Garlic bread, like at Olive Garden, is asked for without garlic. She is picky, picky, picky.
Which is fun, fun, fun for me! Tonight for dinner she wanted a baked potato and ham, but I couldn't just bake the potato - oh no. First, in the microwave in a minute, thirty. Then, back in for another minute. Then out! Stripped of peel and cut into big chunks. And only big chunks. If they were too small, I would have had to bake another potato. Would that annoy you? 'Cause, yaurgh!, I'm about to wring her neck!!
Sigh. I love her, it's just been such a sudden and strange switch. A Freaky Hospital Friday. She took care of me and now I'm taking care of her. And she still must feel that I'm the child that needs taking care of, because she still micromanages me. Helpful when I have a migraine and can't remember my name; notsomuch now. She was sitting in the chair, covered in the blanket from the bed, and when I took it off her so she could get up, she said, 'Put it back on the bed, hon.' No, really? Put the blanket back on the bed it came off of? I never would have figured that out
Which is fun, fun, fun for me! Tonight for dinner she wanted a baked potato and ham, but I couldn't just bake the potato - oh no. First, in the microwave in a minute, thirty. Then, back in for another minute. Then out! Stripped of peel and cut into big chunks. And only big chunks. If they were too small, I would have had to bake another potato. Would that annoy you? 'Cause, yaurgh!, I'm about to wring her neck!!
Sigh. I love her, it's just been such a sudden and strange switch. A Freaky Hospital Friday. She took care of me and now I'm taking care of her. And she still must feel that I'm the child that needs taking care of, because she still micromanages me. Helpful when I have a migraine and can't remember my name; notsomuch now. She was sitting in the chair, covered in the blanket from the bed, and when I took it off her so she could get up, she said, 'Put it back on the bed, hon.' No, really? Put the blanket back on the bed it came off of? I never would have figured that out
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Getting ready for bed
It's half past midnight and I'm just climbing into bed, because Mom only finished getting ready for bed herself and will be lying her head on the pillow as we speak. Usually I'd still have to get ready for bed myself, but I was smart this time and did my nightly rituals while waiting for her tonight.
Mom started getting ready for bed around 9 tonight, but she's only finally getting to sleep 3 hours later. First on the list: night meds. But she has to have something on the stomach. Okay, I have to prepare a small meal, tonight was pineapple and cottage cheese (it's actually pretty good). Because of her swallowing issues, she can't have any thin liquids besides water, so first I have to drain the canned pineapples. Then, since she's only supposed to be eating tiny, tiny bites, I have to cut up each and every pineapple chunk on her plate. This takes a while. And eating takes a loooong while. She has to follow swallowing techniques; drink every three swallows, then cough to make sure her airway is clear.
This takes an hour.
Then she takes her meds. In applesauce, following the same precautions.
So, 10 o'clock, she's finally in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. She starts with her teeth. She got pneumonia because she aspirated a little bit of a thrush infection while under anasthetic during foot surgery. Mom is prone to thrush and to aspiration in general, so the idea is to keep her mouth clean. Swallowing tests showed that liquid started down the back of her throat before she swallowed; that's another way for water to get into the lungs and pneumonia to start. That's why she can only have water. The lungs can handle water, but not so much with fruit juice or soda. So before she drinks water she she has to go through a crazy procedure which she repeats before bed:
And then there are all the other things that she does to get ready for bed, which isn't much anymore, because she seriously downsized in bathrooms moving from the upstairs bathroom to the downstairs.
Pretty soon it's 11, or after, and she's finally in bed - the big hospital bed we're renting and which is taking up a sizable portion of both the living room and kitchen. Mom's always tired by now, if not from the day, then from just getting ready for bed, and she can be easily confused. It can be hard talking to her and figuring out exactly what she means. So insistent, but so meaningless. The hardest part of the day, trying to find the woman you grew up with in that troubled face.
Invariably, we look at her foot - the one that was operated on, of course! It's actually not that bad. Her first operation was awful - this is nothin'.
And then it's midnight.
Almost time for another day.
Mom started getting ready for bed around 9 tonight, but she's only finally getting to sleep 3 hours later. First on the list: night meds. But she has to have something on the stomach. Okay, I have to prepare a small meal, tonight was pineapple and cottage cheese (it's actually pretty good). Because of her swallowing issues, she can't have any thin liquids besides water, so first I have to drain the canned pineapples. Then, since she's only supposed to be eating tiny, tiny bites, I have to cut up each and every pineapple chunk on her plate. This takes a while. And eating takes a loooong while. She has to follow swallowing techniques; drink every three swallows, then cough to make sure her airway is clear.
This takes an hour.
Then she takes her meds. In applesauce, following the same precautions.
So, 10 o'clock, she's finally in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. She starts with her teeth. She got pneumonia because she aspirated a little bit of a thrush infection while under anasthetic during foot surgery. Mom is prone to thrush and to aspiration in general, so the idea is to keep her mouth clean. Swallowing tests showed that liquid started down the back of her throat before she swallowed; that's another way for water to get into the lungs and pneumonia to start. That's why she can only have water. The lungs can handle water, but not so much with fruit juice or soda. So before she drinks water she she has to go through a crazy procedure which she repeats before bed:
- brush each section of the tooth with a toothbrush with a little bit of toothpaste
- cleanse that section with a swab or clean toothbrush
- rinse mouth with water for 1 min
- rinse mouth with hydrogen pyroxide rinse for 1 min.
And then there are all the other things that she does to get ready for bed, which isn't much anymore, because she seriously downsized in bathrooms moving from the upstairs bathroom to the downstairs.
Pretty soon it's 11, or after, and she's finally in bed - the big hospital bed we're renting and which is taking up a sizable portion of both the living room and kitchen. Mom's always tired by now, if not from the day, then from just getting ready for bed, and she can be easily confused. It can be hard talking to her and figuring out exactly what she means. So insistent, but so meaningless. The hardest part of the day, trying to find the woman you grew up with in that troubled face.
Invariably, we look at her foot - the one that was operated on, of course! It's actually not that bad. Her first operation was awful - this is nothin'.
And then it's midnight.
Almost time for another day.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
A short update, a taller one to follow
Sooo...long time, no see. How's life?
(long sigh)
Okay, so I haven't written in over a month. After my mom was extubated she spent another 5 days in the ICU and 2-3 days in the Medicine Ward. She was eventually transferred to Health South, a medical rehab hospital, where she spent another 2 weeks before coming home with a walker. She couldn't come straight home because she had a nose feeding tube and wasn't walking.
Nose feeding tube? Yes. Mom has a very small mouth and, apparently, throat and trachea and when they tried to intubate her, the doctor couldn't do it. After several tries, they had to call for an ER doc. So Mom's throat got the hell torn out of it and after the tubing was taken out, her throat was too swollen and sore for her to swallow. So she had a tube that went all the way up her nose, down her throat, and into her stomach. She had it for three weeks, poor dear. Even now that it's gone she has to be careful about what she eats and drinks and how she eats it.
She's home now, and I'm helping to take care of her. There's more to say, but I'm very tired and it's late and I have to get up early to make a doctor's appointment.
I will fill everyone in on everything! Just, not now!
(long sigh)
Okay, so I haven't written in over a month. After my mom was extubated she spent another 5 days in the ICU and 2-3 days in the Medicine Ward. She was eventually transferred to Health South, a medical rehab hospital, where she spent another 2 weeks before coming home with a walker. She couldn't come straight home because she had a nose feeding tube and wasn't walking.
Nose feeding tube? Yes. Mom has a very small mouth and, apparently, throat and trachea and when they tried to intubate her, the doctor couldn't do it. After several tries, they had to call for an ER doc. So Mom's throat got the hell torn out of it and after the tubing was taken out, her throat was too swollen and sore for her to swallow. So she had a tube that went all the way up her nose, down her throat, and into her stomach. She had it for three weeks, poor dear. Even now that it's gone she has to be careful about what she eats and drinks and how she eats it.
She's home now, and I'm helping to take care of her. There's more to say, but I'm very tired and it's late and I have to get up early to make a doctor's appointment.
I will fill everyone in on everything! Just, not now!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Difference between night and day
Try as I might, I can not approve of my dad's behavior throughout this ordeal. In the words of my sister, Amy, he has not acquitted himself well.
Mom should have gone to the ER before last Tuesday; he should have realized that. Our front fence has been in sad shape, so my parents had some builders scheduled for last week to come and build a new one. But with his wife in ICU, he obviously canceled the work and stayed at the hospital, right? No. He kept the work scheduled and left my mom to go supervise the fence.
On the morning Mom took a turn for the worse and had to be intubated, he dawdled for 2 hours by browsing through all the different gate and security door styles he could choose from. On the way to the hospital, his boss called andDad answered the phone as if he were in the hospital room! "She's doing better, but the name of the game is keeping her oxygen saturation up..." And then we get to the hospital - or I get to the hospital, since he dropped me off and left - and she was the worst she's ever been.
My mom, on the other hand, asked Amy if she take my dog, Mia, while the fence guys were there because she might get upset by the noise and people in the yard. My mom, miserable with double pneumonia, three or four iv's stuck in her, can barely talk or breathe - still remembers to look out for her granddog. Dad, meanwhile, can't be bothered to change a construction schedule because of a deathly ill spouse.
Mom should have gone to the ER before last Tuesday; he should have realized that. Our front fence has been in sad shape, so my parents had some builders scheduled for last week to come and build a new one. But with his wife in ICU, he obviously canceled the work and stayed at the hospital, right? No. He kept the work scheduled and left my mom to go supervise the fence.
On the morning Mom took a turn for the worse and had to be intubated, he dawdled for 2 hours by browsing through all the different gate and security door styles he could choose from. On the way to the hospital, his boss called andDad answered the phone as if he were in the hospital room! "She's doing better, but the name of the game is keeping her oxygen saturation up..." And then we get to the hospital - or I get to the hospital, since he dropped me off and left - and she was the worst she's ever been.
My mom, on the other hand, asked Amy if she take my dog, Mia, while the fence guys were there because she might get upset by the noise and people in the yard. My mom, miserable with double pneumonia, three or four iv's stuck in her, can barely talk or breathe - still remembers to look out for her granddog. Dad, meanwhile, can't be bothered to change a construction schedule because of a deathly ill spouse.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
ICU Chronicles
What is today? Woops, it just turned Tuesday; happy Tuesday, everyone. It's onlya minute old.
Okay, let's see, Tuesday means that Mom's been in the hospital a week and the ICU for, um, let's see, 5 days. And I'm very happy to report that she's doing better!!! Yay! Yesterday she was extubated, which sounds dirty, but is really a complicated word for saying the intubation tube out of her mouth. So Mom is breathing on her own and her oxygen stats are up. It's wonderful! Today she was able to get up out of bed and sit in a big recliner for a couple hours. Yesterday and today she's been awake and talking with us, although we don't let her talk much, because the intubation just tore the hell out of her throat and vocal cords. It's so good to have her back. She's still sick and has a long way to go, but she has improved incredibly.
I didn't see her Monday because I've been exhausted. On Sunday I fell asleep in her room for four hours and slept through everything: beeping monitors, nurses working, my family talking. Nothing. Flat out. At home I fell asleep while trying to find something in a drawer. Sitting up, in front of an open drawer, completely asleep. Monday night I slept 13 hours. My sister Amy got either food poisoning or the stomach flu from the hospital, so to ward off another such little nastie, I thought it best to catch up on sleep.
But I'll be back today. The person most oft with mums, Karen, has to be home tomorrow, and Dad's working and I'm not letting her be by herself at the hospital. How lonely and awful. If I weren't falling asleep every other word I would go into the difference between Mom and Dad. But there isn't any space and I'm literally falling asleepeverh othe =r wordl atijef.
Okay, let's see, Tuesday means that Mom's been in the hospital a week and the ICU for, um, let's see, 5 days. And I'm very happy to report that she's doing better!!! Yay! Yesterday she was extubated, which sounds dirty, but is really a complicated word for saying the intubation tube out of her mouth. So Mom is breathing on her own and her oxygen stats are up. It's wonderful! Today she was able to get up out of bed and sit in a big recliner for a couple hours. Yesterday and today she's been awake and talking with us, although we don't let her talk much, because the intubation just tore the hell out of her throat and vocal cords. It's so good to have her back. She's still sick and has a long way to go, but she has improved incredibly.
I didn't see her Monday because I've been exhausted. On Sunday I fell asleep in her room for four hours and slept through everything: beeping monitors, nurses working, my family talking. Nothing. Flat out. At home I fell asleep while trying to find something in a drawer. Sitting up, in front of an open drawer, completely asleep. Monday night I slept 13 hours. My sister Amy got either food poisoning or the stomach flu from the hospital, so to ward off another such little nastie, I thought it best to catch up on sleep.
But I'll be back today. The person most oft with mums, Karen, has to be home tomorrow, and Dad's working and I'm not letting her be by herself at the hospital. How lonely and awful. If I weren't falling asleep every other word I would go into the difference between Mom and Dad. But there isn't any space and I'm literally falling asleepeverh othe =r wordl atijef.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Mom's sick again. Really, terribly sick. And, god, I wish I were joking.
Last weekend my mom stopped making sense. She couldn't answer questions or follow conversations. Then on Sunday she developed a cough and Monday it got worse. Tuesday we took her to the ER.
It's double pneumonia, which means both lungs and the last x-ray, taken this morning, shows the right side is worse. Yesterday, after most of the day spent on the bipap machine - essentially air blowing down a tube to a mask, effective but not comfortable - she was able to get off and just be on regular air. But today, I get there and Mom is back to a mask clamped around her face, eating her words and rubbing her nose raw. She sleeps a fitful sleep, her face contorted in agony, the agony of breathing when you have no breath to take.
The doctor comes in and says, we need to intubate. Stick a tube down her throat to breathe for her while she's put to sleep - real sleep, not 'put the dog to sleep', sleep. She needs the rest; she needs the break from all the pain she's been in. I call my sisters and they are true to form; Amy takes it in stride, "Good, well that probably needed to happen." Karen explodes, "What!! Why is this happening??!! Why did it reach this point? Put me on with the nurse! Where's the doctor - let me talk to the godd**n doctor!"
I hold Mom's hand before the procedure and sing songs she sang to me when I was little, "Mareseatoats" and "Jesus Loves Me" and try to think of ways to keep her mind off of what's coming. But finally I just lean down and say, "Just focus on one thing. A song, a Bible verse, a memory - and when something hurts, just think back to your one thing, just focus in on it.' She looks at me and says, halting between labored breaths, "Coulda used this three days ago."
But it's time to intubate and suck some of the infection from her lungs, so I go to the waiting room to call my family. I run into Karen, or rather she runs into me and accuses me, in a roundabout way, of being at fault for this. Saying Mom got this way because she didn't have a strong enough advocate; when I'd been there already. Really, she is upset and is looking for someone to blame, even herself. She keeps repeating, "If only I were here this morning; I knew something would happen if I didn't show up this morning." I ask her if she could have held off the infection, breathed for Mom, or made her better. Karen reluctantly replies, "No...but I could have asked about her antibiotics and got her on a stronger one and staved off the infection, or worked with Mom...(etc.)".
The first view of Mom after the intubation was...ragged. Wires everywhere and from her throat, a gaggle of tubes. One, the ventilator; one, a small, clear tube full of blood that was being suctioned from where her throat had been banged up during the intubation; the third, a clear tube of a yellowish brown ick, which the nurse informed us was stomach bile.
Eventually my dad and sister Amy arrive, but we are shooed out so a picc line (a central line) can be installed. Mom is diagnosed with Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome. It is a very serious condition. The doctor said it's about a 70% recovery rate; Karen, who works with people at a rehab facility who catch this thing, says it's more like a 40%. So. We'll see. Your prayers are deeply coveted.
I'll try to keep you updated, but I won't have time or energy for email. I love you, darlings.
It's double pneumonia, which means both lungs and the last x-ray, taken this morning, shows the right side is worse. Yesterday, after most of the day spent on the bipap machine - essentially air blowing down a tube to a mask, effective but not comfortable - she was able to get off and just be on regular air. But today, I get there and Mom is back to a mask clamped around her face, eating her words and rubbing her nose raw. She sleeps a fitful sleep, her face contorted in agony, the agony of breathing when you have no breath to take.
The doctor comes in and says, we need to intubate. Stick a tube down her throat to breathe for her while she's put to sleep - real sleep, not 'put the dog to sleep', sleep. She needs the rest; she needs the break from all the pain she's been in. I call my sisters and they are true to form; Amy takes it in stride, "Good, well that probably needed to happen." Karen explodes, "What!! Why is this happening??!! Why did it reach this point? Put me on with the nurse! Where's the doctor - let me talk to the godd**n doctor!"
I hold Mom's hand before the procedure and sing songs she sang to me when I was little, "Mareseatoats" and "Jesus Loves Me" and try to think of ways to keep her mind off of what's coming. But finally I just lean down and say, "Just focus on one thing. A song, a Bible verse, a memory - and when something hurts, just think back to your one thing, just focus in on it.' She looks at me and says, halting between labored breaths, "Coulda used this three days ago."
But it's time to intubate and suck some of the infection from her lungs, so I go to the waiting room to call my family. I run into Karen, or rather she runs into me and accuses me, in a roundabout way, of being at fault for this. Saying Mom got this way because she didn't have a strong enough advocate; when I'd been there already. Really, she is upset and is looking for someone to blame, even herself. She keeps repeating, "If only I were here this morning; I knew something would happen if I didn't show up this morning." I ask her if she could have held off the infection, breathed for Mom, or made her better. Karen reluctantly replies, "No...but I could have asked about her antibiotics and got her on a stronger one and staved off the infection, or worked with Mom...(etc.)".
The first view of Mom after the intubation was...ragged. Wires everywhere and from her throat, a gaggle of tubes. One, the ventilator; one, a small, clear tube full of blood that was being suctioned from where her throat had been banged up during the intubation; the third, a clear tube of a yellowish brown ick, which the nurse informed us was stomach bile.
Eventually my dad and sister Amy arrive, but we are shooed out so a picc line (a central line) can be installed. Mom is diagnosed with Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome. It is a very serious condition. The doctor said it's about a 70% recovery rate; Karen, who works with people at a rehab facility who catch this thing, says it's more like a 40%. So. We'll see. Your prayers are deeply coveted.
I'll try to keep you updated, but I won't have time or energy for email. I love you, darlings.
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