Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Hello Mother, Hello Fodder
Due to an online class I’ve been taking this month (“Defeating Your Self-Defeating Behaviors” by Margie Lawson, a practicing psychologist who works with a lot of writers), I’ve largely given up my chronic negativity.
What? You didn’t realize, after reading umpteen entries here at fallible, that I’m not exactly Pollyanna? Awww….that’s sweet. But I don’t believe you! Not for a minute! ;)
Anyway, in spite of all the brilliant techniques I’ve learned from Margie, and in spite of the many ways my life has changed for the better in the past three weeks, I gotta be honest with you. Some aspects of 2008 are turning out to be a piece of work.
So far during January, Doug and I have spent two entire nights in the ER with Mom. I’m the type of girl who—like Glen Campbell who kept his sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind her couch—always has a duffle packed. I’m sorry, but with mothers like ours, a chick would be nuts not to have an overnighter stuffed with reading material, a crochet project, spare change, phone numbers, the old gals’ insurance information, a list of current meds and conditions, and power-of-attorney papers.
And clean panties. Don’t forget those! Not to mention a toothbrush, deoderant, snacks, and room to pop the laptop in at the last minute. I may not travel light, but trust me, I travel often.
Besides the two ER soirees, Mom has managed to fall twice since Christmas. Amazingly, she did not hurt herself either time. But I’ve had to line up some PT visits for her, since she apparently has misplaced the skills required to either sit from a standing position or to stand from a sitting position. Maybe some brush-up lessons will help—we can only hope. (See? I’m a bloomin’ optimist—really!!)
In the meantime, she’s been having precipitous spikes in blood pressure. The last ER doc prescribed Clonidine for her facility to have on hand when it happens, which it did yesterday morning.
She called me a few minutes ago, quite frantic. “I need to telll you what’s going on here,” she said.
I just saw her Wednesday afternoon and nothing much seemed to be happening then. “OK,” I said.
Her voice shook and she spoke in something of a tremulous whisper, as if she imagined her room was bugged. “They took my blood pressure yesterday morning and it was so high, they told me to stay in bed for the rest of the day.”
“Hmmmm….” I said, thinking if it were THAT bad, they would have called me.
“Then today it was high again, so I’ve been in bed for two whole days….they called my doctor at 6 yesterday morning, and he still hasn’t returned their call. I am so nervous, I won’t get out of bed until he calls…..”
“I hate to point this out, Mom, but you don’t get out of bed anyway.”
She sounded insulted. “Well, that’s another story.”
I told her I would call the nurse’s station and try to get to the bottom of things. I did and then called her back.
“The nurse says that Liz is on her way there to take you out to dinner.”
“Yes. Even if I don’t eat, I’m going to go out.”
“Mom, why wouldn’t you eat, if she’s taking you out to eat?”
“It has to be the right time.”
“But it is the right time.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, the nurse is here to take my blood pressure again.”
“Do you need to get off the phone?”
Because Mom has a permanently broken humerus, they can only take her BP on her good arm, which is also the only side she can use to talk on the phone.
“The nurse says I can switch the phone to the other side.”
Dear Lord, are the staff members even AWAKE at this joint? Her arm has been broken for 2.5 years and counting.
“Mom, I don’t think that will work with your broken arm…”
And then this, spoken with utter incredulity: “I don’t have a broken arm.”
Who says I’m not a positive person? I’m positive she’s driving me bonkers.
- Oh, our Mama....
She didn't call on my birthday, by the way. That's three years and counting. Guess I should give up hoping. (But, that's so depressing.)Posted by Bridget on 01/28/08 at 02:14 PM
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