The wrath of mom
I stood in the hall near my mothers’ room waiting
for the nurse. I was torn between
desperately wanting to know my mother was OK and really not wanting to suffer any more of The Wrath of Mom.
My thoughts were filled with moms’ pleas, “get me out of here”; the hatred I heard in her voice, “You know you
could, if you wanted to”. I still had a pit in my stomach from her saying, “I thought I could trust
you”; It broke my heart. I hoped the
nurse had been right about it being the effects of the anesthesia.
They had used ketamine. I knew nothing about it, so I spent the some
time researching it on my “smart phone”, which was really stupid. I have a bad habit
of researching myself in to hysteria. http://www.cesar.umd.edu/cesar/drugs/ketamine.asp
On the up side, my crash course indicated the nurse had probably been right regarding moms’ state of mind. I wondered how long it might last; what was normal with this drug?
On the up side, my crash course indicated the nurse had probably been right regarding moms’ state of mind. I wondered how long it might last; what was normal with this drug?
The nurse stood in the hall with me and further explained the dissociative
effects of the drug. We quietly entered the room. I humored myself briefly as I imagined using
the nurse as a human shield against moms’ attacks if she was still angry with
me.
Mom was awake and looking quite contrite. “I’m sorry”, mom was near tears. She was replaying the previous night. Mom told me about thinking she was ruling the
world and trying to decide which button to push. “That really scared me”, mom admitted, “I didn't know what the buttons would do”. She continued, “I thought I was controlling
the world”. She quickly added, “I wouldn't want that much control”.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, mom”, I hoped
that meant she still trusted me! “You
had me worried”, I smiled to let her know it was OK, now. Throughout her rants, I had assumed she thought she was in the other hospital. Turned out that was only partly true.
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| Mom in her HBOT "display case" |
To the best of my knowledge my mother had only been in a glass case twenty, maybe 30, times in her life; I don't remember how many HBOT treatments had been approved my Medicare to treat her osteomyelitis. We sat quiet for a few minutes, both in our own thoughts.
I needed to tell mom about the second surgery,
but I didn't have the heart. They might
decide it wasn't necessary; maybe I had misunderstood. I certainly didn't want to worry mom
unnecessarily. Mom’s progress, or lack
of it, would determine the next step. I
hoped mom could take a next step.
Within a couple hours, mom was gingerly helped to
a sitting, then a standing position. I
held my breath as mom attempted that first
step. The attempt was immediately aborted and mom was
helped back to the bed.Within the hour mom was moved from the step-down ICU to the Neuro/Trauma unit. Again, we were greeted by smiling, caring nurses and CNA’s. They immediately tended to moms needs as we voiced our concerns.
I was impressed.
The nurses patiently listened to us.
Everyone seemed to understand the importance of keeping us informed; of
making sure we understood what was happening and why. Moms nurse wasn't afraid to say “I don’t know”; she finished her sentence with, “I’ll see what I
can find out”. She seemed genuine; I
like that in a person!
I wasn't sure if it was the confidence I felt with the nursing staff or pure exhaustion, but I knew it was time to sleep. Mom had another dose of morphine and was finally resting. “I’ll see you in the morning”, I kissed mom and my sister. I made sure the nurses had my contact information and slipped out the door; in search of my bed.
I wasn't sure if it was the confidence I felt with the nursing staff or pure exhaustion, but I knew it was time to sleep. Mom had another dose of morphine and was finally resting. “I’ll see you in the morning”, I kissed mom and my sister. I made sure the nurses had my contact information and slipped out the door; in search of my bed.
I was sound asleep before my head hit the pillow. Obviously, nothing in my life was normal.
Will it ever be normal again?
Was it normal before?
What is normal anyway?
How will I know when I get there?
4 comments:
I want to let you know at some point in the future this may become a favorite family tale. I went through a similar event with my Mother. I spent an emotional week with my Mom accusing me of horrible things, including pimping my then 12 yr old daughter out for drugs, locking her (mom) in a department store for ransom, and other such nonsense. Years later we would laugh and tease Mom over it.
"Normal" is a constantly changing paradigm; sometimes we don't realize what it was ... until it's irrevocably gone. All we can do is take each new change as it comes and make the best of whatever situation we're in. You're doing very well at that by now!
Tanya, it is true that we are now able to laugh at some of the bizarre things that we have experienced, however some of them still send shivers up my spine. There are days that the humor is the only thing that keeps me going!
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on my post. I really do appreciate it.
It is so true that "normal" constantly seems to change and evolve in to something different. It is also very true, that sometimes we don't realize it until it's gone.
I have had to learn to take each day as it comes; realizing that it may or may not resemble the day before!
Thank you for taking your time to read my post. I so appreciate your thoughts and comments!
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