Feelin' a Little Sick to My Stomach

My mom is still in the hospital and she said tonight that the neurologist wants to talk to us together tomorrow morning.  She had an MRI and an EEG today, but the results weren't told to her, so I don't know what to think.  I'm somewhat concerned at this point.  I feel a little sick to my stomach, as I know I don't deal with this kind of stuff very well.  And my father's response is always anger.  But I will try to put it in God's hands, just as I heard it preached yesterday morning.

The service was good and the preaching was better.  We sang songs we used to sing at Calvary, many, many years ago.  It was fun to sing them again - it brought back a lot of memories.  There is no drummer or keyboard player, no guitar and the only music are some tambourines.  The singers are off key a lot, but it really doesn't matter - the sweet spirit of God was in that little church nonetheless.  We prayed for my mom and I felt the power of the Holy Ghost very strong at that time.  I left there feeling very content and at peace.

We went to see my mom in the early evening and she looked good and was doing fine.  Apparently they found out that it's not a blood spot on her brain, and it also wasn't caused by the Mersa.  But what it is, we will find out tomorrow. 

I don't understand why hospitals tell you early on what they think it is then change their mind and say it's something else - sometimes over and over again.  That is really stupid.  When I was very sick about 6 years ago, I ended up in the hospital and at first they said I had congestive heart failure, then they changed that and said I had something else. After running many tests, they finally realized that I had Sepsis - a blood infection.  That's a far cry from congestive heart failure.  They should just wait until they're sure and then tell you and your loved ones what the problem is.  Up until that point, they should just admit that they don't know yet. 

I'll never forget the doctor who I had when I was pregnant with Leah.  During delivery, it went very wrong and they had to call in a specialist and then he was able to deliver Leah.  My doctor, as he was wheeling me to the recovery room, actually apologized to me, that he had me pushing too early.  He admitted that he was wrong and admitted that the baby could have brain damage because of that.  That doctor's character spoke volumes to me and I will always remember his honesty.  How many times can one say that about any human being, much less a doctor?

Well, it's early but it's time for bed.  I'm exhausted as usual, physically and emotionally.  But that's ok.  God always gives me the strength for a brand new day.

A Sign of a Greater Problem

Well, I guess my mom's dizziness was a sign of a greater problem, or so the doctors think.  This morning, my mom was so dizzy that she couldn't sit up in bed and so I called 911 again.  This time, the guys that came out took my mom into the hospital by the stretcher.  When they picked her up, she groaned because she was so dizzy.  I'm not sure if that hurt her or just made her feel weird, but they took her into the hospital about 9:30.  I unfortunately had a physical therapy appt at 9:45 and I didn't know what to do because I missed my first appt with Linda, the physical therapist.  So I called them and told them that I was running late and expained what was happening.  I also called Danny and he came down to the hospital as well.  I took my dad to the ER and dropped him off to be with my mom and I went to the physical therapist.  I came in there kind of frantic, kind of antsy and feeling guilty that I just left my mom in the ER, but by the time I left, I felt very relaxed and "centered" - a term we used to say back in the 70's.  Maybe people still say that today, I don't know.

In any case, I went to the hospital after my appt and Danny was there with my dad.  I went in to see my mom and she was fine, feeling ok, but they did a cat scan on her brain and they saw a blood spot in the back of her brain.  They don't know what it is or what it's doing there, so they admitted her to do more tests later today and tomorrow.  It's probably what is making her dizzy, but the question is why and where did it come from?

Danny left to take my dad home because my dad can only deal with this for a short time, and then he went home, and I stayed with my mom for awhile.  They gave her some lunch and she seemed fine talking to me.  Her birthday is tomorrow and my dad and I were going to take her out for dinner, and so she was telling the nursing staff that they had to have a birthday party for her now.  They really didn't understand my mom's sense of humor - well, very few people do - as sometimes she says and does strange and out-of-place things.  It's just her and it's always been her, although she's gotten much worse since being sick.  And I think it's because she's never received this much attention before.  Whatever the reason, if she was worried, she covered it up by her acting silly.

It would take them "several hours" to find a bed on one of the floors for her, so I decided to leave.  Later I found out that they put her in a restricted area in case of the Mersa that some of the doctors are claiming is the reason for the blood spot.  Others are saying it's something else.  I came home, went into the pool, then took a long nap - I was exhausted - emotionally and physically.  My dad woke me up because he was hungry and wanted to eat, so I got up and fixed him and me dinner.  I think watching movies and tv is my dad's escape of reality.  All of this is wearing on my dad as well.  He was always the one who needed to be taken care of, now my mom is in that position and he doesn't really know how to handle this.

After dinner, I watched a movie with my dad and he narrated it as we watched it, as he had seen it before.  This is his way of dealing with the situation with my mom.  I know he is concerned about what they found and doesn't know how to express his feelings or talk about them.  Neither of them do.  That's really sad to me, as I learned that a long time ago when I was in the hospital, and I think it is a very important thing to know how to do. 

But there is something that I find incredibly hard to do and always have.  That is, telling my parents how much or even, that I love them.  I can tell friends, my kids, the neighbor down the street or Mr. Magoo - but I can't seem to get it out of my mouth to either of my parents.  When I do say it, it sounds very forced (which it is), and it creates a very awkward situation.  My father has never been able to say this (until very recently) to me or my brothers or my kids.  My mom will say it often but for some unknown reason, it's very difficult for me to say this back to her.  Sometimes, it's even difficult for me to look into her eyes.  I don't understand it.  It makes me very uncomfortable, but I have to push past my comfort zone and do this more and more, especially now.  Why else would I be down here?  

 

Who is Who and What is What, Page Two

So, I had to take a picture of my dad but that is really hard to do because he does not like getting his picture taken.  But I got one of him and my mom eating dinner.  The second one is when he looked up and asked me what I was doing.  I told him I was trying to figure out something on my camera, which is true, but not completely. 

Notice in the picture below, and you can barely see it but it's there, the bottle of BBQ sauce on the table.  I went to the store today and they had two for one - I was so excited for my dad.  Also, if you can see it, they are watching the Military Channel.  This is the den/kitchen area where my dad and I watch movies and talk when my mom is asleep.

Below, is their swimming pool, as Kita looks at her reflection in the water.  This is where I pray and relax and feel wonderfully pain-free for an hour or two each day.

This is a terrible picture, really, but I was in the screened porch and the sun was reflecting off of it.  This is the canal in the backyard where the alligators and poisonous snakes roam.  I actually saw an alligator yesterday when I was in the pool, and as I opened my mouth really wide to shout and tell someone to look, I realized there was no one to tell or see.  It was cool nonetheless.  It's back rose up above the water so I could see how big it was and then went into some bushes on the other side of the canal to continue lurking. 

Well, that's all the photos for now.  If something comes up and it would make it clearer to see a photo, I'll photograph it and include it in here.

Today was a busy, frantic day.  I went to the grocery store early in the afternoon and I actually saw an old lady fall on the floor.  She just went skidding like she was skating or something.  The man with her was using a cane and just stood there.  A big guy came around the corner and picked her up.  I went over and picked up some paper that she had dropped and when I gave it to her she just laughed.  Kind of a weird response.  All the suits in the store came rushing up to her to be of help.  They brought a chair for her to sit on and it was quite a big deal.  I'm sure they're afraid of a lawsuit, but I can see both sides of something like this now, since my mother has fallen several times.  Yes, there might have been something slippery on the floor and if that was the case, they should be held responsible for it.  But if there was nothing on the floor and she was as fragile as she looked, she should have had a cane or a walker or something.  I wonder what store owners do in situations like this where the majority of residents are old and frail.  They probably have really good liability insurance.

When I got home, I proceeded to take the food out of the bags and my mom called from the bedroom.  I went in there and she said she was dizzy.  Dizzy laying down and dizzy trying to get up.  So I called the home nurses because when they came over this morning, they took her blood pressure and it was very low - enough for them to be concerned.  They told me to take her into the ER.  So, Danny was on his way over to my mom's and suggested we call 911, which we did.  They came in and took her blood pressure and hooked her up to all these pads and apparently she was just fine.  They briefly examined her and let us decide whether to go to the hospital or not, but my mom and I decided to just stay home since they did all her vitals already.  The rest of the evening she was just fine, so maybe, hopefully, it was just some weird glich. 

Our bodies are like time bombs - we just don't know if and when something will go wrong with them unless we've had some warning signs.  And then, we still may not know because some of us don't know what to look for.  The bottom line, I believe, is to be ready to meet our maker whenever that time may be.

Who is Who and What is What, Page One

I thought it would be great to give a visual of what and whom I talk about, so I will use the next few pages to show who is who and what is what.  I'm partial to books with pictures -- I usually don't read books that don't have pictures in them.  Tomorrow I will continue with Page Two.  It took me all evening to figure out how to load pictures onto this Blog thing and I'm tired and going to bed.

 Below is my son Micah and his wife, Jasmine.  Micah was about to say something, but decided not to.

This is my mom, Eunice, holding my dog, Kita.  The wheelchair is holding my mom.















This is my youngest grandchild, Jade, playing Itsy Bitsy Spider with my mom at the nursing home.  My mother takes these games very seriously. 

Below is my daughter-in-law, Jasmine,  holding my grandson, Donovan.  Donovan in turn, is holding Spider Man.

Below is a picture of my daughter, Leah, with my granddaughters Shania, Latavia and Ashanti.  My daughter is not a queen - she wore this as an accent piece to her hairdo on her Golden Birthday/Graduation party celebration.

Below is my son, Jason with my grandchildren, Donovan and Jade when she was born.  Jas looks like he hasn't gotten much sleep here with his newborn...

Below is my son-in-law, Parris, and Micah, at Micah and Jasmine's wedding.  It was on the beach in Long Beach and was a beautiful wedding.

Sweating Must Be Good For Something

It's a huge production getting my mother out of the house and into the car. First, we have to keep yelling at the dog and telling her to "stay" to make sure she doesn't run out the door. Next, my father has to walk behind my mom and guide her through the house, out into the garage and to the car door, as if she doesn't know where it is. If she goes too slow, he'll give her a little push to get her going faster.  When he is pushing her wheelchair, he bumps into the walls and goes too fast as she holds on for dear life. He's got even less patience than I do. I try to close the laundry room door before opening the garage door because then Kita won't be able to run out the garage door and eventually run out the big garage door wandering into the street.

This morning, the lady who comes to clean the house, opened the door wide, letting Kita run out, after I just specifically told her why I keep that door closed. Kita was running around my father's car as we were all shouting for her to come to us. She of course, has a mind of her own and was trying to get in the car with me and I grabbed her and returned her to the cleaning lady, and she went back in the house. I wanted to scold the cleaning lady, not Kita. 

At this point, my father is shoving my mother's legs into the car as my mother is practically laying down in the seat. She has a difficult time sitting up so she kind of leans back and her legs are slanted sideways because they hurt too much to straighten up. This is the ritual every time my mom comes with me in the car.  My dad then says, every single time, to "wait until I get out of the way before backing up," as if I was too dumb not to know that already.  He has to walk around the vehicle to get back in the house and after he yells that, he still makes hand gestures, just in case I didn't understand English.  He's also telling me at this point to close the garage door, which I always do, but he feels necessary to tell me every single time I drive out of the garage. 

Now if I have to take her out of the car where we are going, like the doctor's office, it becomes an even greater ordeal.  I have to schlep the wheelchair from the back of the car, unfold it and lock it in place by the side door. She, very slowly, slides out of her seat, hanging on to the seatbelt because there is nothing else to hang on to in the car and I help her get her legs out first, then she carefully sits down while holding onto the sides of the wheelchair. I am sure to get all of our papers and paraphernalia that we have to take with us and lock the car.  We then proceed to the doctor's office in 95 degree humidity as sweat pours down my face onto my neck. When we finally reach the doctor's office, they check her in and look at me as if I'm a Martian, with sweat pouring from my head, into my face and neck.  I look like I just got out of the shower.   Before I have a chance to catch my breath, we are called by the nurse and walk the long walk to one of the rooms.  Again, the nurse looks at me rather oddly like I have a sword sticking out of my head and I try to ignore it as I wipe more sweat from my brow.  When the doctor finally does come into the room he also looks at me with interest for a moment, then focuses on my mother and not on my sweat.  After all is said and done, we have to go back downstairs and out to the car to do the procedure we just did, in reverse.   By the time I have to lift and throw the wheelchair into the car, I’m near death and I barely make it into the driver’s seat, sweating and wheezing and turning the air conditioning on “extreme high.”  It always takes me several minutes to just sit there to gain my composure, even though the sweating doesn’t stop for a long time afterward.  You’d think I’d be a twig at this rate, but alas, I am more like a really wide trunk.

I was hoping that sweat was good for something, but I really don't know what.  I mean, I could let it drip into a container and sell it for pete's sake, if there was some value in it, but that's nonsense.  What is really nonsense is that my whole head, hair and all, is soaking wet after an afternoon like this but I still have to wash my hair on Saturday nights.  It's not fair, I tell you.  I don't lose weight from it and I still have to wash my hair once a week.  Ah, but I've been told life isn't fair and I see that the older and older I get...

World Traveler

We waited an hour and a half for my mother to get in to see her doctor, who looked at her for maybe 5 minutes.  This was the infectious disease doctor and he thinks the mersa infection that she had is gone, although he did say it's possible that it may return.  Her legs were starting to really hurt her, sitting in the wheelchair and I was about to get up and complain when one of the nurses came out to get her.  It's true that we were surrounded by old people all waiting to get in to see a doctor, and one by one of them disappeared as we sat and waited.  But seeing my mom in pain was making me angry that she had to sit that long.  It was a good thing they finally came and got her or I would have had to make a complaint.  I'm not a patient person, but I had just changed my pain patches and was a bit foggy, so I was a bit more mellow than I normally am.  So if you ever want to argue with me, wait until after I put the new pain patches on and you'll probably win.

Waiting is not an easy thing for me to do.  I'm not a good waiter.  I wasn't even a good waitress.  I wasn't blessed with an overabundance of patience, like some of my friends who I greatly admire.  I really do think highly of those who are patient and mellow - 2 characteristics I always wished I had.  But then I came to realize that we're all made different and we should appreciate all the idiosyncrisies we each have.  (Now I know I didn't spell that right, but there is no spell-check on here and that drives me crazy.  Being an administrative support person all of my adult life, I always notice spelling or grammatical errors and then when I misspell a word, it annoys me, but not enough to get up and get a dictionary, so let's pretend I spelled it right.)

Kita is sitting on my shoulder, on the back of the chair I'm sitting on.  She likes to perch up there so she's right next to me.  She has to touch me when we're sleeping and when we're just chillin'.  I love her so much, but I'm thinking she should go back to Virginia for good because I just can't walk her.  She's so tiny, only 6 pounds, but really she should be taken on walks.  She does get outside though.  When I go in the pool, she's right outside there with me and likes it.  I've even brought her in the pool a few times and watched her "dog paddle."  Imagine that!  It's really cute, but she can really swim.  She just can't get over the side of the pool so I have to help her a little bit.  Usually, I let her swim to the steps and she can get out that way, with a little help.

She stands at the sliding glass window at times and growls and barks at something outside but there's nothing outside.  I don't know if it's her reflection that she sees, or if she senses something else -- like an alligator or something.  We were in the pool last night, but I was sure to get out of there before it turned dark.  Those alligators lurk around and come out at night and even though there's a screened in porch, it gives me the creeps.  Besides, Kita would be a tiny appetizer for them.

Did you ever notice when you're writing something like I'm writing this Blog, that you use the word "I" a LOT?  I this and I that, I went here, and I went there.  I, I, I, I.  Blah, blah, blah, blah.  Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I just noticed that I say "I" alot.  But then I guess if I was writing about someone else, I would be writing about "them."  Dumb commentary but I guess it's just hard to avoid using the word "I" when you're writing about yourself and your family.   

So I just got my tickets tonight to go to Madison in October.  I made my doctor appointments and so I scheduled the flight around that and seeing my grandkids.  I can't remember if I wrote this or not, but the short-term disability insurance granted my application, but they are requiring me to see my doctor every 3 months and to have physical therapy regularly here in Florida, which I will have to pay for because my insurance doesn't cover costs out of county.  The next several months will be really busy for sure.  After the October visit, my kids and I are planning on going to Micah and Jasmine's for Christmas, but first I have to fly to Madison for Shanti's birthday party.  I can't miss that.  Then I'll have to fly back in January for my next doctor's visit.  Boy - I've become a world traveler without seeing the world!  One day I want to travel - some friends and I have already talked about going on a trip together.  That would be a lot of fun and I look forward to wherever we go.  But right now, my focus is here with my parents, and that's exactly where I'm supposed to be...

Sometimes I Just Have to Whine

Last night, I spoke for a couple of hours to a friend who I had lost contact with about 30 years ago.  It was great to talk with her again and we laughed just like we used to.  I knew Cheryl when I was pregnant with Leah and our kids played together when we lived on Simpson Street in Madison.  She and Melody were with me in the hospital when I gave birth to Leah.  I'll never forget their faces when I asked them how the baby was after she was born.  They both tried their best to cover up the truth that Leah was not breathing when she was born, so she was blue, and there was a possibility that she would have brain damage.  I kept passing out between contractions and when the doctor figured out that her shoulders were stuck, he called in a specialist to pull her out.  The specialist came in and I remember him saying, "We have to get this baby out of here right now."  And so they did.  And because I was in so much pain I kept passing out between contractions, I didn't see them whisk her away to the infant ICU.  Cheryl and Melody did - they told me much later that she was blue and that it was best that I didn't see her.  My doctor actually apologized to me while wheeling me to the recovery room.  I asked my pastor to come to the hospital and pray for her and he did.  He prayed for her through the incubator, while all the nurses watched.  I believe Leah was healed that day because of the power of prayer.  It was great to hear from Cheryl again, and hopefully we will keep in contact.  Friendships are very important to me and those I have been particularly close to, I hope to keep in contact with for many years to come.  

I was awoken early this morning, around 3 am, by my dad letting out a blood-curdling scream I have never heard before. I was in a deep sleep and I immediately jumped out of bed and ran out in the den and asked him if he was ok. He said yes, and kept apologizing for waking me up. He said that he must have had a nightmare but he didn't remember what it was. This bothered me all day.  It was an awful scream, and coming from my dad is even more bizarre since he is so self-controlled. 

Church was good this morning.  Pastor Dagan has so much exhuberance and zeal, he makes me tired just watching him.  At the end of the service, he is always sweating through his shirt even though the air conditioning works fine in the building.  I remember when I had that much zeal - well, maybe not as much as him, but more than I do now.  I've thought a lot about why I don't do the things I used to do in church or at home, and I realize that I am in constant pain and that prohibits me to do much of anything anymore.  I'm even on stronger drugs the last two weeks and it doesn't do a whole lot - it doesn't even take the edge off, but it does make me even more tired than I already am.  I get tired of talking about it, thinking about it and explaining to others why I am not able to do the things I used to.  The bottom line is that if you don't experience this for yourself, there's no way for another person to understand.  The only time I am not in pain is when I'm in the pool, or in deep sleep.  Otherwise, it's constant, no matter what position I'm in.  Ok, enough complaining.  Sometimes I just have to whine.

Danny came over today and helped me (well, he did it all - I didn't do any of it) move the furniture around in my room.  There is a huge bed that was in the middle of the room, so now it's pushed up against the wall and a few things were taken out.  I shipped my tv and vcr/dvd player down here and they should be arriving this week, so I can go in my room to work on my computer and watch tv, and hopefully my mom will sit out in the den more with my dad.  She said something to me the other day that was kind of weird.  I asked her if my dad had breakfast yet and she said, "No, he wanted to wait and eat with you (me)."  That made me slightly uncomfortable and I think it made my mom feel a little bad too.  Maybe it's because I don't critique everything he puts in his mouth and she does.  Oh well, I know how he feels.  I moved my chair at the kitchen table because I don't want to face her when I'm eating, so now I'm sitting on the side and can watch tv instead.  So now I deliberately don't see the looks and I can't hear the sighs of what I'm eating because the tv is always blaring.  She's gone to sleep by now, so I think I'll go and get an ice cream cone to enjoy in utter peace and quiet...