Okay, so......Mom and I spent a really "lovely" three and a half hours (midnight to 3:30am) in the Port Angeles ER. Got two new high scores on Sudoku, as well as a surprisingly sharp performance playing Fling. (Note to everyone out there: When you have to go the ER, ALWAYS bring in your iPod.)
It was particularly quiet during this visit. Not sure which I prefer. It was really exciting two visits ago, when the chopper airlifted out a motorcycle crash victim. Some lady, in 2C, was moaning like crazy, and there was somebody in the special "Psychiatric" room with the door closed. The place was so busy that day that they had to put Mom and I right out in the reception area, where I could see everything that came in or went out. Really tantalized my "inner doctor."
But last night was quiet. Only two other patients there--one for a suspected kidney stone that turned out to be constipation (Is it possible to be THAT constipated?), and a guy curled up in the fetal position in the "Psych" room with a cop standing guard outside. (I didn't ask.)
They gave Mom a whopping dose of intravenous Vicodin. (Isn't it weird what heavy duty pain meds do to your brain? Mom started babbling about toothpicks on the floor. The nurse just looked at me and said, "Vicodin." I nodded and resumed my Sukodu game.) Then, the doc and one attendant proceeded to pop Mom's titanium hip back into it's artificial socket, and then strapped on the big ole' velcro/plastic half-body brace that Mom is now commanded to wear ALL THE TIME.
Sometimes I think it's probably a good thing that half of Mom's brain has been chewed away by dementia and that she's oblivious to practically everything. Otherwise, she'd be a complete lunatic at having to wear that contraption 24/7. Case in point, that time when she was in rehab after her back operation (the one that originally got me to move up here six years ago), and before the dementia really took its toll. Mom, as I don't think I have mentioned, is very particular/stubborn about certain things--what she eats, what she wears, how things should be cooked, etc. Well, she didn't like the food at the rehab place at all. I mean. NOT at all. In fact, she didn't like rehab. My brother and I were visiting her one afternoon. Honestly, for as long as I can remember, I have no memory of my mother ever swearing. But that afternoon, Mom was pretty fed up with rehab, the food, the staff, and basically everything having to do with the fact that she wasn't in her own home. Oh the words flying out of her mouth! I, and every other sailor in the universe, and my brother...we all blushed. It was embarrassing and entertaining all at the same time.
Anyway.......so Mom has this big ole' brace that she was to wear now... indefinitely. All day. All night. And I'm just holding my breath...."bracing" as it were......... for the day, the afternoon, the morning, when Mom breaks through the dementia and decides she's had enough of The Brace. (Sailors be warned.)
Oh and one more thing. Dad slept through the whole thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment