Whoever says “if you go early with your first you’ll probably go early again” is full of shit.
My Mom is back in the hospital. After a fall, a few shocks from the defibrillator, and an ambulance ride she was right back where she left off less than a week ago.
I spent a lot of time on Saturday just staring at the heart monitor. I’ll never get the image out of my head. Thankfully it stayed steady at 60 beats per minute for the whole time I was there. Last week it was 70. Apparently without the pacemaker it only beats 40 times per minute.
After the emergency room, they transferred her to the CCU (Critical Care Unit). Most patients there are in really bad shape and you have to pick up a phone outside the door and call for them to buzz you in. On one of my many trips out to the bathroom I walked out with a woman who had come out of the room next door. She was sobbing. She was met in the hallway by someone with open arms and all I heard was “I’m so sorry.”
I knew something really bad must have happened. We made eye contact for a split second. I looked away and was immediately ashamed of the way I felt, of what I was thinking.
Thank god that’s not me.
Not now, not yet, I’m not ready.
Over the course of the next hour or so I saw several people walking back and forth in front of our room crying. Eventually a man came in and close the curtain to our room. My brother saw them wheel out a body with a sheet over it.
Shortly after that my Mom was transferred out of CCU. Sitting upright, in a wheelchair.
She’s still got a long way to go. Her heart is very weak. They’re changing her medication in hopes of preventing any more episodes. This time I think she’s going to be sent to rehabilitation before she goes home. I’m very happy about that, she needs it.
I’m hopeful that everything will be ok.
So my Mom seems to be doing much better. She’s home and finally eating and starting to get around. I’m finally breathing that sigh of relief.
On a totally unrelated topic. Have any of you seen this? It leaves me speechless.
Every other time my mother has been released from the hospital, and there are too many to count, I have been relieved. I’ve walked out the door of the hospital or hung up the phone with a sigh of relief……..we made it through again.
Yesterday I left the hospital sick to my stomach. Sick with worry, sick with doubt, sick with fear. It was too soon, even though she’s been there almost 2 weeks she wasn’t ready to go home, even though she wanted to.
Apparently when they resuscitate you, which happened after a bad spell on Tuesday, they don’t worry about being gentle. She has bruises on her back from the defibrillator. She’s so sore that she can’t get dressed by herself, she can’t walk to the bathroom, she couldn’t even open a straw with a paper wrapper. But she managed to sign her name on the bottom line.
When I saw her on Thursday she had a droopy eyelid. It worried me, but I just associated it with exhaustion. Yesterday that same eye was crossed. It looked like a glass eye. She had no control of it. I asked her if she could see out of it and she said yes, but her vision was doubled at times. She didn’t tell the doctors about it. She just wanted to go home.
She looked so tired. Run down. Beaten. Her eyes were almost blank, except when she moved and she gasped in pain.
She shouldn’t have gone home yet.
On a positive note, I’ve actually talked to my father. Whom I haven’t had a normal conversation in three years.
He’s worried too.