I was staring at my computer screen, absorbed in my work. Sometimes work creates a rhythm that helps the day move along...sometimes it's just helacious. It turned out that today would be a very helacious one.
I get a message on my computer screen. My buddy Paul wants to go out for lunch today. Yay...for a person that just had weight loss surgery I'm strangely preoccupied with food. Why is that? I lost 28 lbs in the three months leading up to the surgery. Lost 10 in the week after...and then gained five back. Now I'm teetering along the edge of losing and gaining 2 and 3 lbs.
|I think this is 2 days after weight loss surgery|
Hmmm my preoccupation with food. It's like this song by Dionne Farris; Food for thought
Using food for thought and thought for food
All I have is my attitude, the hour glass, and my
Ever changing mood...
Paul says meet me outside at 12:30, and then we'll decide where we're going to eat...which really means HE'LL decide where we're going to eat. He has the car after all. Just as I'm signing off my computer my cell phone rings. I think its Paul telling me he's early. I check the clock, 12:25, but it's not Paul it's Mom.
"Kim, it's broke! It's broke so bad." I start pacing.
"Okay, where are you?"
"I'm at the house! Kim it's so bad!"
"Okay, did you call 911? Do you need me to call 911?"
"No, I already called them. Their on their way." I realize that I've already put on my coat and I turn back to my computer and sign out of all my programs. I have to get out of here.
"Kim! I need you!"
"Okay, Mama I'm coming. I'll meet you at the hospital. Which one? I took the bus so..." Then I remember Paul--with his car. Mom tells me what hospital. I hang up my phone and hurry to my co-worker to tell her that my mother broker her leg and I have to leave and she has to do the last two cases and ...well bye! On the way out I call my manager and then Paul and explained what was going on. He said he'd take me to the Hospital.
"We need to eat first," I say as he pulls up to the curb and I slip into the car.
So yes. Yes I did eat Taco Casa while my mom was in emergency with a broken leg. What? An apology, remorse? Shame? Hell no. Okay, a bit of shame. Though I did need to eat, I could have taken it to go...
At the hospital, my Mom is in a private triage room. I've never seen one. I begin to fuss over her. She describes how her ankle just twisted while she was in the back yard and how she had to reach under it to put it 'back on' and then how she yelled for help but to no avail, and then dragged herself up the porch stairs and into the house where she called 911. I took plenty of pictures, rubbed her good foot, braided her dreds and pinned them up (they reach the small of her back) I helped her pee and kissed her and told her I loved her. I listened as she talked to my sister and described how her foot had broke off, and how the doctor said it was a terrible break and was so bad.
I was looking at her thinking...the doctor never said that.
TOP 5 SIGNS THAT THINGS ARE GOING TO TURN TERRIBLY WRONG IN EMERGENCY:
5. When the doctor tells your Mom that he has to pull her foot to straighten the break BEFORE giving her a nerve block.
4. When your Mom screams HELP!
3. When your Mom says she's going to act a fool up in here.
2. When she finally gets her shot of demerol and morphine and begins to lift the broken leg up and down up and down...(an hour later she will yell that it hurts even worse. OHHHH IT HURTS!!)
1. When your Mom is no longer under the influence of pain killers but still proclaims, "I'm not taking off my bra and panties! They just want to see what a naked 65 year old woman looks like!"
My sister gets there later that night. Now its her turn to show Mommy all kinds of attention while I pace and watch and wait for the doctors to assign her a room so that she can finally get some sleep. My sister asks her how bad it hurt when they put on the splint and straightened the break. Mom shrugs and says it didn't hurt that bad.
I didn't even bat an eye at that. Mom sure enough acted like it hurt! She even apologized to the doctor and he was visibly shaken when he was done. I will admit that there was a small part of me that was on the verge of 'acting a fool, too.' I wanted to hit the doctor in the back of the head and yell, 'Stop hurting my Mama!'
Well she did end up getting surgery the next day. Two broken bones in her leg and two days in the hospital but she seems to be doing good. She's getting around on a walker--and she's getting a sliding, seated walker to put her knee on.
Before I wrap this up I have to tell you that I'm a bit of a germaphobe. The hospital is a bad place for a germaphobe. I developed a bump on my knee during the last hour of my stay--My mom said it was just an ingrown hair but it just DEVELOPED! This was about 9:00 and I felt very strongly that it was MRSA. I went home and stripped off all my clothes, washed them and took a long long shower and then climbed into bed. I talked to my other sister on the phone and my throat began to close up as if I had strep throat so I took 2 shots of Nyquil--convinced that I had caught something at the hospital (and YES I did! My nose is running as I type!)
The phone rings at 4 am as I'm in a Nyquil induced haze. It's Mom. They had moved her surgery up to seven am and she was all alone. I rushed to the hospital but...why was she still wearing the bra and panties?! I did manage to convince her to take them off--want to know how? I told her she'd probably develop MRSA if she kept her undies on.
We really are very much alike.
|Mom's broken leg|