54 posts tagged “mom”

Yesterday my Aunt Patsy, mom's only sister, learned she is in Stage 3 Kidney Failure. She's two "points" away from Stage 4. Stage 5 is dialysis. Then one of two things happens. You get a kidney transplant or you die.

Mom got her second steroid epidural yesterday.

I can't be in the room when they do it, so it would've been nice if they'd warned me it hadn't gone well. Instead I walk into the room and mom is near hysterical.

Apparently the pain while she had to lay on her belly was unbearable. The doctor even came back two or three times to check on her. She said something like, "I've never seen her this bad." I just nodded with a this is what it's like face. It took her a full 30 minutes to settle down. I tried to help by reading some of the parts of a Vanity Fair story on Ann Bass.

As we left, I joked that maybe our primary care doctor needed to give us matching anxiety prescriptions. She laughed, but I really was serious.

Well, I feel like I am making head-way getting other people to do stuff for me:

• got the yard done yesterday
• got huge bush trimmed back to scale today
  
• having ceiling fans installed right now
  

Today, I got some dog food. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and to visit Gerry. Yep, that about sums up my participation in the cleaning/organization process. If only I could afford to pay someone to do *that* for me!

*sigh*

Yesterday mom cried on the phone. She was down because she feels like she complains a lot. She doesn't. I mean, not really. Pain is what her life revolves around right now. Feeling it and trying to relieve it. How do you not talk about that?

She cried that she thinks this is how I will remember her. As a whiner. I assured her that won't be the case at all. That I will always remember her as the woman who ran circles around me until she was 80. That she is my inspiration of how to live life as I age. That seemed to make her feel better. Which is good, because it's the truth.

Good gravy am I ever glad this week is over.

Neighbor was moved into a skilled nursing facility late last night. She has to be on antibiotics for four weeks for the MRSA. She seems to be doing ok (the dementia helps with that). Her kids? Not so much.

Chemo started this week for my friend. It wasn't until the third day that she started feeling puny. It sounds like right now she is really pukey.

Mom gets another shot next week. I sure hope another one will help even more. I think she's shown good strides in improvement. The leg cramps are still around and she equates that with not doing well, not matter how many times I tell her the two issues are not related.

Gigi is doing better. Still not eating much. Just not quite back to her perky self. The brownie she ate was huge. I had to cut what I ate into bite sizes with a knife and fork. Her heart rate was 200 and her temp was 102.7. Even though I am broke because of it, I am still so glad that she woke me up.

I am off this week and am so hoping to have a reprieve from everything. My goal was to get the house more organized and now I'm two days behind. I'm not going to get too wound up about it and just do what I can.

I'm just home from the hospital. Neighbor has MRSA in the heart valves. Not good. She is quarantined and will be moved to a skilled nursing facility because it could take weeks on antibiotics to kick this thing. She's 87, so the odds are working against her, but you never know . . .

Mom's breathing has started acting up again -- she just finished the antibiotic yesterday.

And my Spurs lost tonight to the stupid Lakers. Sheesh.

I went with mom to the doctor today about some severe shortness of breath she's had for several days now. It is not congestive heart failure. One of her best friends died of congestive heart failure several years ago, so I know that was top of mind for her. Her heart rate and lungs are good, so they are treating it like they would bronchitis.

Yesterday I faxed the doctor about mom's driving comment. She was very nonchalant in following through with my concerns and verifying for me that she is ok to drive. She did several tests on her to determine her strength there and gave me a great sense of relief.

The doctor looked me in the eye as she left and nodded. I mouthed "thank you."

I've mentioned here before how much I love my doctor, right?

Mom said something yesterday that absolutely devastated me.

She admitted to the pain doctor that she has to sit "just so" when driving because sometimes her ankle hurts if she pulls back a certain way, making it hard to move her foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal.

While she was getting her shot, I sat in the waiting room and wept. I tried our doctor's office, but knew the answering service would be on. I knew that if I left a message she would surely call me back while we were still together and how would I explain that to mom?

So I wrote a note to the pain doctor. I asked her to tell our doctor what mom said. I told her that she drives a 26-mile round trip to work four days a week. That her "confession" scared me.

The day we take away my mom's car keys is the day I might as well kill her.

For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. ~ James 1:3, NLT

This was the Bible verse of the day from K-Love this morning. Whew, this was an endurance growing day.

Mom got her shot today. I think we were both really worked up with negative expectations over what the experience would be like. In the end, she said the idea of it was worse than the shot itself.

She's feeling some relief already. She's supposed to be on "bed rest" today and very low key tomorrow. I told her that even though she is feeling good that there are reasons she's supposed to take it easy, even if she's feeling better. Fingers crossed that she does what she is supposed to do.

OK, something to share that drives me nuts regardless of my mental state. After the appointment we had some lunch, then came to hang out at my house for a while. As I am unlocking my door, she says that she noticed the clothes I'd thrown in the (outdoor) trash can, had pulled them out and put them in her car.

What??

"Well, I'll wash them and donate them to the shelter."

At which point I tell her that even I can tell the difference between clothing appropriate to give away and those that are stained, worn, yicky items.

The truth is, my mom can't throw away anything. No, really. I'll post pictures some day. Truthfully, I'd already thrown two used pee pads (complete with poop) on top of the clothes and she still dug them out.

I told her that is why I don't like her around when I clean. She thinks everything can be used again. EVERYTHING.

An actual reader with an actual question.

You know, we're fine. More than fine really.

When I am whining about my mom, I am in a depressive state. When I am fine, we are fine.

Generally, I know when I am whining that it is the depression getting the best of me. But at the same time, it's a real emotion. That I have to express. And better here than to her. She's taken enough of my crap in her lifetime.

I was chatting with some friends recently who all had similar experiences with some pretty dysfunctional parents. I had to sit silently because in my life it was me who was the psycho.

It was my mom who never knew who she was going to get. At any given moment. I could go from happy to angry in a split second. She (we) never knew when my wrath would sweep in, cutting a swath against her heart.

I know she lived in fear wondering what she might say or do that would set me off. Sometimes even nice things would get an "It's about time" outta me.

I've been on medication for six years. Our relationship has done a 180.

It hurt me for a long time. Those moments when I could hear her guard herself against what might be coming. If she was late to meet me. Or early. If she forgot something. Or did something without asking me.

It hurt a long time to know that I was the terror in my mom's life. But I can tell you with all honesty that there was something wrong with me. Something that medicine has fixed.

At first she was very upset when I went on the meds. I'm sure she thought she would get the blame somehow. But the reality is my brain was broken. It was like I had the spark plugs, they just weren't connecting.

I thank God for giving me the courage to go to the doctor that day and admit that something was really wrong with me. I am so grateful that I have this new relationship with my mom. Even though this may be the shortest time of our lives together, I am so thankful that these will be the memories I keep.

I had dinner with mom tonight. Between today and yesterday it is literally like night and day. She is walking faster and taller than I've seen in months. I asked her to compare pain levels. Yesterday was a 10. Tonight was a 6!