Another Wednesday In The Hospital

What a day. A day to make me distrust hospitals and doctors more than ever and boy, that's saying something.

I got a call right after Lily came with Owen that they were going to do a heart catheterization on my mother. You gotta be there for that. Major invasive procedure. So I took Owen back to his daddy who is on crutches, ripping my heart out as I handed him over. Jason's brother was there to help and I drove on up to the hospital, found a parking spot on the upper-most level, got there and met my brother who lives in town who was accompanying Mom down to where the procedure was to take place, which was where I was.

The mother looked fine. She sounded fine. Her color was good. Neither the EKG nor the blood work had shown anything at all which was suspicious of heart problems but...
The doctor, and I think he was a new resident, had been in her room when she'd started having one of her attacks.

Now. If my mother had been in her right mind (the one she was in about ten years ago, anyway), she would have remembered that this happened before. She presented with signs and symptoms of heart problems but after they did the EKG and the blood work that time, they'd given her a GI cocktail which is stuff like Maalox, Pepcid, etc., all in one little cup. If the person drinks that and the pain subsides, it's probably not heart and it's probably reflux. They can mimic each other. But Mother didn't remember this and the doctor was young and inexperienced and so they did the heart cath.

Which showed that her eighty-three year old heart is JUST FINE!

Which got me and my brother thinking. Gas. Reflux.
He went down to the gift shop and bought Alka Seltzer and after her procedure, when she was recovering, she started having the pain again. We popped two of those tabs in a glass of water and she drank it and guess what?
Yeah. The pain went away.

We told the doctor about the Alka Seltzer and the history. He sat there, probably completely exhausted, and insisted that yes, it was probably reflux but that they should do a scan of her lungs to rule out a pulmonary embolism.
She's had no shortness of breath at all. None of the symptoms of a clot in her lung. BUT- what do I know?
Not much.

So while they were waiting for someone to take her up for that scan, Chuck and I walked over to the drugstore and bought her Alka Seltzer, Zantac and Tums. Then Mean Aunt Jessie came up for a visit which delighted Mother so much that she was probably happy to have gone through heart catheterization and all the attendant danger just for that visit.

And Chuck and I left and when she's done and they clear her to leave, he's going to go pick her up and take her home.
Jesus.

Now if she DOES have a pulmonary embolism, I'm going to have to eat my hat, but I don't think she does. I think she has acid reflux. She's had it for years but it just got really severe in the last few weeks.
And if someone had just given the woman some antacids instead of morphine they could have figured that out.
But of course, I could be wrong. That would not surprise me either.

And so I spent another day in the hospital and it was nice to hang out with Chuck. It was odd being with Mother for that long because it made me realize how the gears are slipping in that brain of hers. Whenever we'd discuss the previous time she'd come to the hospital thinking she was having a heart attack she'd say, "Wasn't that at the beach?"
And I'd say, "No. You had pneumonia at the beach."
And then it would happen again.
And again.
This is not a good sign for The Moms as Ms. Bastard would call her.
But she's eighty-three years old and we can't all be Jimmy Carter when we grow up. Her life is filled with routine and every day events and she manages fine, so far, at home. So who cares (usually?) if her short term memory is shot? Or her long term memory for that matter?
Eventually that's what we'll have to deal with.

And now I'm going to go finish the laundry and make supper.

I hear that the play is in dire trouble because Colin has hurt his back and can't build the set. The play opens in two weeks. Okay.
I need to get my ass back there and see what the hell I can do to help. I have to.
And, and, and...
Just keep stepping.
I'm sorry this is such a blah-blah-blah post. I apologize. It is certainly not filled with wisdom or any sort of creativity. There is no message of hope here or of any Great Spiritual Meaning.
I did not find enlightenment in the waiting room and I did not turn into a loving daughter. I did, however, make a pot of coffee.

Step, step, step.
Don't stop. The path gets rocky, the path gets steep but you can't stop.
If you do, they put you in the hospital and let me just say- not a good place to get well.

All right. Thank-you all for your kind and caring words. I cherish them. I am holding them in my heart and I am hoping that tomorrow is a better day for us all.