What If It's Ok? 2025 Edition

This is what I have to remind myself on days like today.

Yesterday mrguy was in the middle of his infusion. We were feeling great after another clean scan and I'd gone to work, which is about 3 blocks away from where he gets his treatments. I got a call asking me to come over there. They couldn't tell me what was happening.

Today it is as if nothing has happened, but at the time it looked like he was having a stroke mid-infusion. His mind got jumbled while he was listening to a podcast, then he lost his ability to control his right hand. He took his left hand and rang the bell. When the nurse arrived he was unable to respond to commands. It passed quickly. 

He'd had a small version of this during the previous infusion. And after the last infusion and the one before it he had large fevers.

He took an ambulance and I took the car to the ER. Our issues seemed less than everyone else's, so it took a long time for him to be seen and attended to. He had two brain and neck CTs and then they sent us home. In the meantime the guy next to us who was sucking all of the attention in the ER was complaining about how racist it was that nobody was seeing him. They eventually arranged home health care and transport for him and he got to go home. There was nearby moaning. And the guy who went home was replaced by a lady with congestive heart failure who needed her meds tweaked. This sounded familiar from my dad's problems with the same thing. Except she needed a translator, who was a family member and later a professional translator. I was pretty impressed that they found an Amharic translator that quickly. Once I knew the language I was able to look up where she was from: Ethiopia. If only she'd been at the rehab facility where my mom went those two times. Everybody working over there was from Ethiopia. Reminded me of the kindness of all of the great nurses, CNAs and doctors who worked there. And out of thin air I was even able to remember the name of the doctor: Biranhu. One of the prettiest names I've ever heard. Anyway this inadvertent pocket photo sums up my state of mind.

I found us some dinner in the cafeteria, which was quite perfect. Turkey sandwich for him, caprese for me, and some upscale chips. I was very surprised to see that there were two different kinds of cracklins at a hospital cafeteria.

We were able to get home around 8:30. And now we wait. He had half an infusion and a stroke-like thing that only happens when he's getting the infusion that saves his life, and now we really don't know what to do next.

At least he doesn't have a brain tumor.

Ah Yes. Out Of The Relaxing Pan and Into The Hospital

The ringer on my phone was still off, because my sister was here with mom for the weekend and would be taken care of. Of course that's not how it panned out. Mom got up in the middle of the night and fell, and she was in a lot of pain. It could have happened to anyone, I guess, but my sister didn't have to come out for Thanksgiving at all. It was a choice. When she and other sister caught up with me, there was fun to be had. We decided she had to be taken to the hospital. My sister has some pretty severe anxiety about this because my mom turns into The Beast lately when confronted with authority. But I (who was with her through the situation -- only one person allowed) had a comparatively good time:

• They gave mom fentanyl before moving her onto the gurney, and she was sweet as pie
• I got to ride in an ambulance with her (my first time)
• It was quiet at the ER
• Mom kept telling me that it was such a nice hospital and that she was only the 2nd person to be a patient
• She thanked me for being with her
• She had no additional injuries since her last ER visit a month ago
• We were out of there in three hours. When has that ever happened? 

The paramedics, by the way, were so great with my mom and everybody. They exchanged short hellos with people at my mom's building that they'd met before, and were telling the lady in charge of showing them around stories that she didn't even know about residents -- "Bob was an engineer during World War II..."

Anyhoo, the mom was much better when she got home. We felt more reassured that any pains were going to be not serious, and after buying them some McDonalds (traditional post-medical mom treat), I slipped out, feeling like I could go home without guilt.

Womens' March...To The ER

Saturday was filled with unknowns, but I'd decided to go to the Women's March. I didn't have a plan or a hat or playmates, but I figured that I'd head down there and meet new people at the event.

I was lacing up my shoes when the phone rang, and it was the Wellness Office at the mama's complex. Uh oh.

Let me just say that everything is fine. Everything. But we had a hell of a day.

The mama's eye burst a capillary, we think. I've had it happen, and my dad used to carry an eye patch in his glove compartment because it happened to him so regularly and is so scary to look at. For those who are interested, once it does happen, you're more likely to have it happen again in the same capillary if you sneeze too hard or exert too much effort (say, in the bathroom).

But because she's got glaucoma we had to have it checked out because bloody sclera could be indicative of something more serious. So I put on a different shirt, drank some coffee, and drove over to take the mama and her caregiver to the ER, where we spent 5.5 happy hours.

Anyone who has been in the ER knows what a scene it can be. There was the lady having a psychic break. Not sure what she was in for, but her psychosis probably wasn't helping. There was the rock musician in town on tour who said he had been jumped by someone who had beaten him with the butt of a pistol (but who actually looked like he'd gone through the windshield of a car). There were a bunch of quiet people, almost all African American or Pacific Islander, some college town ladies who for sure didn't vote for Trump, and a giant television in the waiting room blaring Fox News. So unfair.

Next to us was a woman who was coughing like crazy. She was also speaking to her relative on the phone in a deep Southern accent. And when one relative would conclude a call, she'd move on to calling another one. She was both conversing with these people and giving them a running commentary of everything on television and in the room. She liked Donald's hair "they colored it different, and it looks like they're parting it now. It looks much better"..."What? I think she's funny. I like her sense of humor but it's her lifestyle I can't stand. She's a degenerate. No, I don't think she ever dated Ellen." "It's on whatever channels you have, there. You can see it on *your* tv if you want." "Ronnie's an alcoholic." 

This woman's psychic presence was enormous, and her physical presence was, as well, so it was really difficult to ignore her. I wanted to tell her to get off the phone, but was worried about how I could do this without completely causing a scene and embarrassing my mom. Luckily the mama's hearing is so bad that she was missing most of this. She'd wake up, say something snarky about being cured and wanting to go home, and then go back to sleep.

After a while we were treated to a live broadcast of the President speaking to the CIA. And after about 3 hours in the ER I was a little cranky, so this happened:

I was really unhappy at this point, but there were people in there with much worse problems than my sweet mama, so I didn't think it was worth saying anything. Yes, it took less time when we were in the ER last time, but she'd broken her hip, I reminded her.

Anyhoo, I started posting some of this to Facebook, and a friend asked why I hadn't changed the channel. Right. Why hadn't I? Because my mom watches Fox? She was asleep. So I asked the guy at the desk if he had the remote. He couldn't find it, so I started pushing all of the buttons on the tv. Then people started heckling me to get the remote, so I went back to the desk and found it on the desk. "Is *this* the remote?" I asked, pointedly. Then I shut off the tv from across the room. The guy at the desk asked politely if I could turn it back on, just to a different channel, and I was a bit stumped. An API guy who seemed like he was in pain said quietly "Anything but news." The lady on the phone was literally still talking to her relative in Alabama about whether Ronnie had found a church to go to since the funeral and calling out "Channel 5!! Channel 5!!" I said "No!" and she said "It's not news!! Let me see, what day is it?" Someone suggested PBS, and it was a blessed relief. They were promoting a program that was literally images of the Sonoran desert and classical music. It could not have been more soothing at that moment. People thanked me. Arkansas lady said "No words, only music". A different desk guy came by to retrieve the remote. Eventually Arkansas got a room and our long national nightmare was over.

But we still had a few hours to go. At one point I had to move the car for the third time and  desk guy (#2) let me back into the curtained area where the mama was going to be seen. "You're the PBS lady!!" he said. "When you did that, the whole room changed."

It took some prompting from people on FB, but I helped people after all, it seems.

And the mama's doing fine.

You won item Pair Of Life-Size Figural Garden Sculptures Of Antelope

Best subject line, ever.

I have missed you, my blog, but I've been busy with my mama. I keep thinking of finishing up my Europe blog before embarking on this new chapter of life, but that might be a pipe dream. While mama's sleeping in the hospital bed nearby, I'll catch this up.

The grand mammoo has had a tough six months. After our family vacation at the big round river, her cognitive state began to shift. After some anaesthesia required by an endoscopy and a cataract operation, it declined further and it became clear that she couldn't be left alone.

We siblings came to this realization in various stages, as different people do. We took turns hosting her at our houses or coming over to hers to stay. While she was with me I made her check out retirement communities with me, and go to physical therapy. We moved the needle really far that week. The sibs have been moving it further since then.

After the week with me we decided to see whether she could be at home for a week by herself. She hadn't been on her own since the first of the year. She lasted precisely a day and a half before she went rogue. Got her calendar messed up, cancelled all of the pt appointments. Wasn't really tracking well. So my bro came down to be with her.

We've been trying to prevent her from falling, because she fell twice in December and because she has a steep set of stairs to the bedroom. Basically, her house is a death trap for an 87-year-old woman with poor balance and muscle tone. We'd talked about pt for a year. Most recently I reminded her that pt would give her strength, a better sense of balance, and help her be independent for longer. Failing to go to pt might mean that she'd end up moving to a retirement community that she doesn't like as well as the one we've picked out for her.

You can imagine what happened next. While sitting in the kitchen with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew, she bent down to pick up a piece of paper. Fell out of the chair, landed on her hip and broke it. The femur, actually. So ironic. We were trying to protect her.

So here I sit at the hospital, bidding on antelope sculptures live online with Mom, while my sisters check out physical rehab facilities that she can hopefully move into on Monday or tomorrow. This shit happens quickly. Our bro, who has to have his spleen removed, went back home. I ducked out to have my chronic cough looked at yesterday (gastric reflux) and we're not sure exactly what happens next.

Luckily, my sibs and I are operating as a good team. Lots of emails. Middlesis has finally gotten a phone from which she can text, which helps. And I paid an ungodly sum for two life-size antelope sculptures in order to dampen the pain.

Back to work.

Much Better

All in all it's been a depressing holiday, what with tiny mammoo in the hospital and all. I feel so sad for her and uncertain about her ability to make a comeback from her injuries and many chronic conditions. There's so much going on in her body.

Yesterday we drove down to see her, went to her apt. and gathered some clothes for her release to rehab. Soon she'll be moving from here:

to a facility nearby where they'll work with her to rebuild the muscles that were broken down after the fall. This is common problem in falls by the elderly, and leads to something called rhabdomyolysis. Fascinating. Scary. She hasn't been strong recently, but now she can't lift her head by herself. Recovery will be slow, but we're glad that it's necessary and will require a residential program so that she can't escape and must stick to an exercise routine. And counseling will be a necessary part of the healing process. She's clinically depressed.

While running errands and visiting tiny mammoo, we made sure to take care of ourselves as well. A pit stop at a local taqueria was comforting:

The visit with tiny mammoo was productive. We happened to be there when the orthopedic surgeon came to consult, and learned many things. Does she really have diabetes? That's new information. And she's a candidate for back surgery? That'd be cool.

After the hospital mrguy cleaned the apartment for a while, I gathered laundry and looked at family photos. We hooked up with sweet cousins later for dinner and listened to their wise counsel. They've walked some of this path before.

Thank goodness for family :)