Mom's Journey Continues

Here I sit in that "Limboland" parking lot outside a trauma center, knowing I have to go inside and face the latest news about my mom. Darling 86 year-old Marianne was home for a week enjoying time with Jack and Bailey the Porkster Poodle, and re-connecting with friends after six weeks of rehab following hip replacement surgery. She was being a good soldier, never moving without her walker, but had two minor falls last week, both while getting out of bed. Two days ago she fell while getting out of bed, injuring the hip that isn't a prosthetic. She was able to pull herself up and didn't tell anyone. This afternoon the home health nurse arrived and GASPED when Mom displayed the hematoma on her "good hip." The nurse called me at work insisting Mom should go to the ER.

Backtrack about 15 hours...a rough night at the Ingram home. Our puppy, Bindi Sue, was spayed on Monday. She came through surgery with flying colors. I took her to work with me yesterday so I could watch her. She was sentenced to wearing one of those god-awful "lampshades" that render paint chips on walls and big bruises on legs. Bindi was ok at first. Then last night she suffered nasty stuff coming out of both ends while in her crate. I was up most of the night doing clean-up for "the baby." After three hours of sleep, I called the vet at 7:30 AM and was told to bring Bindi in immediately.

Thankfully I'd already washed Bindi's hind quarters, hosed down her crate, plus done the laundry, cleaned the cat box, cleaned up the big hairball in the laundry room, placated Vanna Dog with a walk and treats, emptied the diswasher, and washed my hair - so the day started out no more stressful than a category 4 hurricane.

The visit to the animal hospital was a breeze. The vet said Bindi was probably having a bad reaction to her med's. She would require soft food for a few days - and two cans only cost $10. She needed a sponge bath because, in my middle-of-the-night fog, I'd missed washing a couple of spots on her tail and hindquarters. The vet advised me to go to PetCo and get an inflatable collar because it was obvious Bindi hated the "lampshade" and that may have contributed to her nausea. The animal hospital didn't carry soft collars because of the high cost and even higher mark-up. So at 90 minutes into my work day, I was at PetCo buying a fancy blow-up collar for the baby and stressing about all the work I had to do.

When I finally arrived at the office, everything went smoothly. Bindi liked the new soft collar; and she REALLY liked the "Bully Bone" the guy at PetCo recommended. I felt productive and life felt good.

Then the nurse called to say Mom needed urgent care attention. They asked me to tell Mom she had to go to the ER. That wasn't an easy conversation, but Mom understood, the ambulance came and I raced home to drop off Bindi before rushing to the hospital.

The good news: Mom's hip was fine. The bad news - her brain was not. The doc informed us the CT scan showed Mom was suffering bleeding in her brain. BOOM - they called around to find a trauma center that could take her and I had to explain to her that she wasn't going home to Jack and Bailey.

Around 9 PM, Mom was transferred by paramedics to Western Medical Center. Amazingly, the paramedics were the same ones who had brought her to Irvine earlier. She loved seeing them again, even called them by name (so much for short-term memory loss). They told me how beautiful she was - and she was in heaven hearing their compliments.

I couldn't keep up with the ambulance for long. It was flashing lights and sounding the siren. I wasn't about to exceed the speed limit, after a recent citation in San Juan Capistrano that is taking me to traffic school soon.

When I arrived at the trauma center, there were dozens of people in the ER. I saw Mom's favorite EMT's at the ambulance entrance and they told me where she was, which helped me get inside quickly. When I said "Bed 9," the security guard gave me a nametag and took me right to her. About five minutes after I sat down in the comfiest chair I've ever encountered in a hospital, a young man with a badge said he was moving Mom to ICU. Good-bye comfy chair. A nurse accompanied us and when we reached the end of one of those long, super white hospital hallways, I was told to go into the waiting room and someone would come and get me later. Mom blew me a kiss. I watched an entire rerun episode of "Grey's Anatomy" while sitting in a very uncomfortable chair.

At last a nurse in a bright flowery shirt came out and called my name. She led me to the bed and asked a bunch of quetions - the same ones I've answered dozens of times over the past five years. She took me inside the ICU to Mom's bed.

Mom has been a trooper this evening. She talked about the challenge of staying on her feet. She reminded me she wanted to be cremated. She said she tried to get a sip of Jack's scotch before the paramedis wheeled her out of the apartment, but Saint Norma the Caregiver said "NO!" She said she wanted Bailey at her memorial service. We cried together. We laughed out loud. She hated the potassium drip through her IV because it was hurting, and told the nurse to go ahead and cut off her arm. We laughed some more. I read her snippets from PEOPLE Magazine and she said she "might like to see" the movie Get Smart before she leaves the planet because she loved the TV series.

I wolfed down a Whopper Junior burger and a Diet Coke just now, when I should be home in bed. Gary and I have been in constant contact and he says she'll be ok....again. I called my brother's cell phone number and left a message that Mom was asking for him.

Richard the nurse told me that Mom will be in ICU "at least until Monday" so the neurosurgery team can get her stabilized - or understand more about what's going on. They'll let me know tomorrow. The neurosurgeon says Mom has no obvious neurological disorders (I could have told them that - she's an Energizer Bunny), but he needs to stabilize her. My guess is that she will off blood thinners for the rest of her life, heralding a different set of challenges.

I'll go and kiss Mom good night. Earlier she said, "You need to go home and get some rest before work tomorrow." She added, "And be sure to have a glass of wine for me." She and I can still laugh...and that's good medicine!