The weekend has been long and rough. Dana and I spent the majority of our time by the side of my mom’s hospital bed. Her emotions are raw and she cries to go home most of the day. Saturday was quite horrifying in this respect. She cried to go home while she pulled bandaging from her hand where they had recently drawn more blood. I understand the reasoning behind all these blood draws but it doesn’t make it easier when I look at my mom’s frail hand. It is completely black and blue from her wrist to her fingertips and it turns my stomach each time I see it. I pray each day that the doctors and nurses continue to realize that she is not just a number in a clinical trial. This is the woman who gave me strength and taught me determination, who showed me that a little common sense can go a long way and that life’s most difficult moments should always be handled with honesty, integrity and a little bit of pride, this is my mom. She has always made sacrifices for me in the past and will continue to do so in my future, I’m sorry God, she is just not yours for the taking right now.
Some days it feels like the only way our family is able to function is by being dysfunctional. As things become more difficult and a great deal more serious our sense of humor seems to step up a notch and become a bit more twisted and I guess some would say they were in bad taste, but this is how we survive the unimaginable. Dana and I arrived at the hospital early Sunday morning , we actually beat my mom’s breakfast tray and were glad we had come bearing danish. After she devoured a lemon-filled pastry she informed us that she had had a “spill” that morning and proceeded to tell us the story. My mom’s one bit of dignity throughout this entire illness has been that she has continued to use the bathroom, although most days she needed my stepfather’s assistance it was better than a bed pan. In the very early hours of Sunday morning my mom’s nurse managed to convince her to use the portable toilet kept in her room and she and my stepfather helped her to it. As my stepfather stepped away to get toilet tissue the nurse did not keep a hand on my mom’s shoulder and she leaned to far forward and fell. She hit her face on the hospital floor and then came down on her knees as well. Of course, the doctors were called in to assess and have decided that no harm was done but they have also decided it is too dangerous for my mom to leave her bed and she is forced to resort to the bed pan. My mom insists that she is fine and told me that her doctors are severely lacking in the sense of humor department. She informed me that the fall was not a big deal and it was simply her attempt at an “Elvis Presley impersonation.” I let her know that Dana and I got the joke and that she was a damn good impressionist but doctors just don’t seem to have that “Death by Commode” humor thing going for them.
The nurse assisting when my mom fell came in to explain to us how to help mom use the bed pan and explained to us that it would be safer and easier on my mom and all of us. Dana laughed, “It may be safer, but she is sure as hell not going to make it easy for you.” I know my mom well enough to agree with Dana and besides none of us are looking for the easy way out, just the happy dance at the end of this fucked up roller coaster ride. Dana and I left around noon when Chris arrived as the second shift visitor. We received the update phone call a few hours later telling us that the nurses had to set up a catheter as my mom had a full bladder and refused to use the bed pan. I am not sure if her condition has deteriorated to the point of her not realizing she has to use the bathroom or if she is stubbornly holding to her bluff because it is her only bit of control. I am leaning toward the latter and thus have added the Rhoads nursing staff to my prayer list.
Some days it feels like the only way our family is able to function is by being dysfunctional. As things become more difficult and a great deal more serious our sense of humor seems to step up a notch and become a bit more twisted and I guess some would say they were in bad taste, but this is how we survive the unimaginable. Dana and I arrived at the hospital early Sunday morning , we actually beat my mom’s breakfast tray and were glad we had come bearing danish. After she devoured a lemon-filled pastry she informed us that she had had a “spill” that morning and proceeded to tell us the story. My mom’s one bit of dignity throughout this entire illness has been that she has continued to use the bathroom, although most days she needed my stepfather’s assistance it was better than a bed pan. In the very early hours of Sunday morning my mom’s nurse managed to convince her to use the portable toilet kept in her room and she and my stepfather helped her to it. As my stepfather stepped away to get toilet tissue the nurse did not keep a hand on my mom’s shoulder and she leaned to far forward and fell. She hit her face on the hospital floor and then came down on her knees as well. Of course, the doctors were called in to assess and have decided that no harm was done but they have also decided it is too dangerous for my mom to leave her bed and she is forced to resort to the bed pan. My mom insists that she is fine and told me that her doctors are severely lacking in the sense of humor department. She informed me that the fall was not a big deal and it was simply her attempt at an “Elvis Presley impersonation.” I let her know that Dana and I got the joke and that she was a damn good impressionist but doctors just don’t seem to have that “Death by Commode” humor thing going for them.
The nurse assisting when my mom fell came in to explain to us how to help mom use the bed pan and explained to us that it would be safer and easier on my mom and all of us. Dana laughed, “It may be safer, but she is sure as hell not going to make it easy for you.” I know my mom well enough to agree with Dana and besides none of us are looking for the easy way out, just the happy dance at the end of this fucked up roller coaster ride. Dana and I left around noon when Chris arrived as the second shift visitor. We received the update phone call a few hours later telling us that the nurses had to set up a catheter as my mom had a full bladder and refused to use the bed pan. I am not sure if her condition has deteriorated to the point of her not realizing she has to use the bathroom or if she is stubbornly holding to her bluff because it is her only bit of control. I am leaning toward the latter and thus have added the Rhoads nursing staff to my prayer list.
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