My Mom had been sick for a week or so... she said she had the flu, so she wasn't hungry and in bed a lot. The following week, however, she was acting funny - almost sleeping all day long and slurring her words. My parents live in San Antonio, I live in the Dallas Forth Worth area, about 5 hours apart. My Dad and I decided to admit her into the ER on Friday, March 23rd. I got the call about 10am that Friday and frantically left work and went home to pack. What do you pack? Will I be coming home that weekend or not? Would I be going to the Frio River and carrying out her wishes of spreading her ashes across the river? I didn't know. I got in a big fight with my husband, not wanting him to have to deal with this, but also needing him. I finally asked him to go and he reluctantly packed and got ready... he needed to stay back in case his work needed him, but I thought this was more important.
I irrationally packed, not knowing what to pack, but I somehow thought to pack some pictures for her so she could have them with her in the hospital. I'm glad I thought of it, although I can't tell you why I even had enough sense to think to bring photos for her in hospital. Some jeans, some nice pants, what the hell did I need? I was walking around like a zombie, not knowing what to pack, yet overpacking, not knowing how long I would be gone, if my Mom was dying or not, was she okay, etc. I was crying as I tried to pack stupid shit, barely able to see through my tears. As an only child, my worst nightmare was falling before my eyes.
On the drive down, I cried and cried. Was she dying? How long would she be alive? I imagined all the people I would have to call and tell... I imagined the people Tony would have to call because I wouldn't be able to talk (like my boss). A few friends happened to call me just to shoot the breeze and I blubbered under my tears that I was on my way to San Antonio and I didn't know what was going on with my Mom. I obviously caught them off guard and they didn't expect me to say what I did - wow. Blubbering = crying so hard, you can't understand me, but you can obviously tell something is wrong.
As we drove up to the ER, my heart raced. Would my Mom be awake or unconscious? What was going on? I immediately ran to her inside the waiting room (she was put in a wheel chair) and I hugged her and cried. It was so good to see her awake!
She said she was cold and I ran to the car that Tony was parking and got my blue sweater and sleeppants for her. We sat there for a couple of hours and we were finally led into a room. Tony doesn't like hospitals, so he was in the car. They took her vitals and asked her questions. After a couple more hours, we found out her breathing wasn't good (she has emphysema) and her heart rate was up and she had a-fib (atrial fibrillation). She was admitted into the hospital for observation. While we waited to get a room, Tony took my Dad to Pappassittos and then home after they both visited with my Mom some more. She was moved to the heart floor (4th floor) and I spent the night with her - that was a no-brainer. I didn't know if they would allow it, but I am glad they did, because I didn't want her to be alone. Tony picked up my Dad the next morning, but he wasn't in a good mood. I felt bad Tony had to be the receiver of my Dad's bad mood - it was something I never wanted him to witness and wanted to shield him from, but he saw it first hand that day. I guess he now knows, though, why I would get so upset when my Dad was upset.
The doctors observed my Mom some more and her heart rate was still up. I had to decide what I was gonna do - go home or stay - and since she wasn't let out of the hospital yet as of Sunday, I decided to stay. They wanted to do an MRI and since that couldn't be done until during the week, she wasn't going home over the weekend. So, Tony left to go back to our home in Mansfield, after I repacked my suitcase - again, what would I need? I would drive my Dad home each night and bring him back each morning, then put him in his wheelchair and take him to my Mom's room. I only had their car and used that for all our transportation. My Dad is disabled also (both my parent's are) and so I was really taking care of two patients.
By Monday morning, my Mom took a turn for the worst - she was unconscious for some reason. My Dad and I were by her side all day and when the doctor finally came in in the late afternoon (they only came in once a day) we begged him to tell us, as tears fell from our cheeks to our clothes, "if she is dying, just tell us and we will take her home." He said he didn't know why she was unconscious but he didn't think she was dying. He decided to do another round of different tests. They were also testing her to see if she had had a stroke that one week she wasn't feeling good or eating. Lots of cat scans and x-rays of her lungs, neck, head, vital organs, etc. We found out she was anemic, had a-fib, COPA, and a calcium deposit on the back of her brain that could only be diagnosed with an MRI. They tried to do an MRI on Monday, the day she was unconscious, but she can't lay down flat because of her emphysema and so they couldn't perform it. My Dad and I were so scared and panicky. It was all very surreal. We cried all day long as she lay there in her bed, just simply not awake, only sleeping. We tried to wake her up to eat and/or get her vitals taken, but we couldn't wake her up.
I called my friend Sharon who lives in San Antonio and blubbered to her and asked her to call my Mom's nail person - a lovely woman named Kay. Kay called me immediately and said she would add her to the prayer list (turns out a lot of people were doing that - how amazing!). It made me cry even more, as I paced outside her room and talked to a few people, including my Mom's sister, who was obviously just as upset.
I also called Julie (Hunter Tour Board Member) and told her I couldn't go to the tournament that was the following weekend and she would also need to get her own hotel room (we were to ride and stay together in Tulsa). I blubbered to her, also.
On Monday night/Tuesday morning, my Mom woke up at 4am to go pee and she was talking to me! My Mom was back! We chatted about 20 minutes, and then she went back into unconsciousness. I cried and cried as I lay beside her in that cold room, wondering what was going on with her. I was so upset and scared.
The next morning, I go and get my Dad from the house and they take my Mom to get a cat scan or ultrascan in the chest/neck area. She was gone for a while and when they wheel her bed back in her room, my Dad and I are waiting for her in the room and she's awake! We talk to her all morning and in the afternoon, we mention to her she had been "sleeping" the entire day before. She's confused and doesn't understand why and she is bothered that she scared us so much.
We find out the acid level in her blood was too high and her mixture of oxygen from her lungs wasn't right and that's why she was unconscious. We still don't know if she had a stroke or not. The new cat scan again shows a small area in the back of the brain that only an MRI can prove is due to a stroke or just "age".
We find out that her emphysema is now diagnosed as "advanced." So advanced, she now has to be on oxygen all the time while she in the hospital and will need it 24x7 at home as well. She gets tired and out of breathe easily just by going to the bathroom (and that's using the bedside commode).
I don't know how much she was aware I stayed each night with her in the hospital, but I wouldn't have done anything else. I have an amazing connection to my Mom - she's the only person I am that close to.
I helped her go to the bathroom, was there for every blood test and vitals test all night long. I enjoyed spending the time with her, even though we mostly just slept. In the mornings, toward the end of her stay, she would stay awake for an hour after they took blood (every morning at 4am) and she would get weepy and I would crawl into bed with her and try and console her. She was told on that Wed that her advance emphysema means she only has two years to live. It was so very hard for everyone to hear, but obviously to her the most. Of course, she could live longer, but it all depends on her will to live if she even lives two years.
After 9 nights and ten days, we finally left the hospital. My Mom didn't want to leave - she was scared to go home and be on oxygen all the time - it would be a new change in her life. I had been getting her room at her house ready during the day by cleaning it out so she would have more room to move around and also feel more comfortable at the house. We also had to get her oxygen ready - she was to be on oxygen 24 hours a day now...something that will take weeks to get used to. Also, because she was in bed for three weeks, she has apethy real bad and is real weak. It will take a long of time for her to get her energy and strength back, so to get her strength back while learning to live with oxygen is a true challenge. No wonder her will to live would be an amazing challenge.
I stayed in San Antonio the entire next week. I ran errands, cleaned parts of the house, donated to Good Will, stopped by Half Price Books to sell some videos, took my Dad to a doctor's appointment, went grocery shopping, picked up prescriptions, etc.
I also made some phone calls and I was able to pick up a bedside toilet for her for free and also a walker for free. Without health insurance for my Mom, the cost of things can be overwhelming in situations such as these. The generosity of people is amazing, though. There's also this place called Project Mend that donates hospital beds, wheelchairs, etc., and all we needed was proof of her income and a doctor's prescription. I don't know why, but they allowed me to sign for her and I brought all the paperwork needed and went downtown and got her a better walker (one with wheels) and they would deliver a hospital bed the following Tuesday. This meant I needed to get rid of her current bed and the Salvation Army was able to come and pick it up [and the unused, large treadmill (the one taking up space in their living room)]. My Mom needed a reclining bed because she can't lay flat due to her emphysema. I then dived into more rooms and was able to get rid of more things (like old magazines, old canned foods, etc). I even had to borrow my neighbor's trash cans - the neighborhood has the type of trash cans that a machine picks up, so you can't put as many bags of trash out as you want - only the amount of trash the can can hold. So, I borrowed our neighbor's trash can, and also his recycle bin - I was able to fill up two of the large recycle trash cans, also! I was fretting over the trash because I would have to leave about 20 bags somewhere in their house because I was leaving Sunday and yet the next trash day was Monday and already the two trash cans were again full. Luckily, my dear friend Sharon (who graciously let me stay at her house each night) let me bring some trash to her trash day (Thursday) and I brought ELEVEN bags of trash! Oh my! But, it was an amazing thing to be able to get that off my mind and take care of the trash bags like that before I left. It might sound minor, but if I kept the trash bags in the house, they would smell or the dogs would get into them. If I left them outside, the rain would ruin the trash and may make it worse.
I didn't think I'd get all the things done I wanted, but I was able to to get a lot of it done. I also knew I was already coming back in three weeks so I could get more things done then. By Saturday, Tony came down from our home and he ran some errands for me that I needed to get done at my parent's house - took my Dad to Pappasittos [ (we had to check his mood first) but my Dad was doing a lot and I figured he could use a break ], then Tony changed the oil in their car and checked the tires, stopped by Good Will again for me, and packed the car.
I cried just at the thought of leaving my parents. When I finally said goodbye to my Mom, I cried and cried. I felt guilty for leaving. I had been with them for two weeks, but I felt so guilty for leaving, but I had to get back to work. It broke my heart to leave. I then said goodbye to my Dad and again cried and cried. When I was finally able to weakly walk out the door, I climbed in the car and just bawled as Tony drove away from their house, the house I grew up in, the house that my Mom was dying in. I bent over in the front seat and cried as my head lay in my hands. Tony was saying my Mom was okay, and she had her oxygen, but he didn't understand what I was going through; why I was crying so badly and uncontrollably.
I got enough energy to call my friend Sharon and told her I'd buy some junk food for us to sit and talk and eat ourselves into a stupor as we talked about my Mom and Sharon's boyfriend (they were in a big fight). Tony dropped me off and went to his parent's house and I sat with Sharon as long as I could. I was tired and exhausted. All the sleepless nights and working during the day finally caught up to me, I guess. But, we chatted and ate bad - it felt great! However, I woke up the next morning around 630am and proceeded to have diarrhea for hours. Tony and I were suppose to leave at 9am, but I was too sick. I then threw up a few times. I kept going back to bed and a fever finally came and I was real sick. I couldn't even get enough energy until 6pm to watch Tony pack my things in the car as I was doubled over with such a fever, I couldn't even stand up straight. I don't know if exhaustion finally caught up to me, or if I ate something bad, or if eating junk food right before bed caused it (I had been hardly eating for two weeks). Either way, I was bad off.
I had to call my boss and ask to take off Monday because I was so sick. So, I was out the last two weeks, then had to take off that Monday and was already taking off the following Thursday and Friday for a tournament in Dallas. I would only be in the office for two days! Ugh!
My Dad called several times during the day each day after I left and my emotions were still unnerving. My Mom had good days and bad and the bad days really affected my mood at work. I was a walking zombie, not smiling at anyone, racing to answer my cell phone (in case it was my parents), and yet trying to get things done at work, knowing I'd be out for the other half of the week. I made it through the week and my Mom was eating more and walking more. I went into my tournament knowing she was okay (for the time being).
I didn't describe much emotion. I mostly gave facts above - sorry. To be honest, however, I need my friends more than I thought.
Going through this, also makes you think of death and life a lot. I thought about my Mom's life. My life. My future deathbed. Etc.
Also, it may not make sense, but it was emotional to clean my parent's house - it was a mess and yet embarrassing to them that I had to do that. I didn't look at it like that - I like doing things like this, but to them, it was embarrassing their daughter had to clean for them and also to see that their house had become piles of mess and dust.
Taking care of both my parents at the same time was taxing, exhausting, and surreal. Almost losing my Mom made the news of "two years to live" seem like, "that's okay - at least she's alive now." But, it isn't. I became selfish and yet amazing unselfish. I felt bad for mostly spending the second week around the house, instead of in the room with my Mom. I went back home not knowing what was to come.
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