Sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital I’m catching my breath from a manic Monday morn. My daughter’s school bus didn’t show up so amid trying to get my bag repacked for possible overnight stay with Mom, flat ironing my otherwise Bob Dylan-like hair, and stepping over the dogs who were all keeping close eye on Mama, I had to revise my plans to include picking up a prescription, getting gas in my car AND driving 14 miles out of my way to the high school.
Yup, it’s Monday.
I didn’t get to the hospital until 10am, two hours later than expected. Yesterday Mom had been moved from ICU to the cardiac floor due to overcrowding and a need for ICU beds.
Her new room has a great view. The same view we enjoyed 18 months ago when she was admitted with a pulmonary embolism. The IDENTICAL view as it’s exactly the same because it is the very same room she was in during the last visit.
Luckily I caught the surgeon’s PA this morn who told me that she would not be discharging her today. A relief. She’s not maintaining her oxygen levels and her blood pressure is very low. Physical therapy has her walking with a walker and being evaluated for oxygen at home. All very disappointing to Mom who came in listening to the surgeon who said: “Two days in and out and then you’ll be good to have the second surgery in a week or so.”
No way that’s happening.
For now it’s rest, receive breathing treatments, get the pain managed, learn the biopsy results, and pray that a turning a corner towards recovery is near.
Last night I wasn’t optimistic. This morning with some rest and the knowledge that she’s not being shoved out the hospital’s doors too early, I’m at least able to carry on a conversation without weeping just a little.
Strange observation: Whenever I sit down to relax in the hospital I hear Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”. Must be time to pack up and head upstairs once again.