Mom
was scheduled to be discharged yesterday to go to the Meridian for rehab. I had to hustle over to their offices to sign
their required admission papers. It felt
like I was buying another house. “Sign
here. Initial there.” Fifty-five pages worth of stuff. I didn’t have some of the documents they were
requesting, because they were with Chris in Mom’s file bag (Yep, we have a
whole bag designated just for her medical stuff). Things like the power of attorney documents
and specific insurance information. I
texted Chris to see if Mom had had flu and pneumonia immunizations. She answered, “John (the RN) just came in:
she is not being discharged today.” I
read that one out loud, and the admissions lady stopped cold. It took her a few seconds to gather herself,
and after a deep breath she reassured herself (I’m serious. She wasn’t talking to me at all), and
mumbled, “Oh, no. Oh, wait. It’s good for a month. We’re OK.”
Finally she shook her head a bit and redirected her vocalizations to
me. “That’s fine. The paperwork is good for a month before we
have to redo it.” We finished the
remaining pages and she ushered me out the back door. I don’t think she meant it to hide me or
anything. It’s just that residents’
families most often come and go out that way.
As
quickly as I could, I texted Chris back to find out what was going on. Here’s her answer: “Dr. just in: not
discharging her because her white count has jumped up. More crackles in her lungs. Did chest x-ray already. Going to do another round of urine and blood
cultures.” Oh boy. Another infection. And while she is still on antibiotics. That can’t be good. I swept into Jack-in-the-box and grabbed us
some more tacos and hurried on to the hospital.
When
I arrived Chris and the RN were gathering all of Mom’s things together. I wondered if they had changed their minds
again. But no. She was moving, but just to another floor. They had a cardiac patient who needed to be
on this floor, so she had to be bumped.
I had a brief moment of hope there.
Maybe she would get to go to what they referred to as “The Penthouse.” That would be the tenth floor where they try
to put elderly patients. The one with
the huge rooms and couches. But sadly,
it was not to be. They were still
full. Instead she would now be on the
fifth floor.
I
was sent on the reconnaissance mission to check it out. Actually transportation was on their way, and
they just needed me to carry an armful of flowers and bags. So she would now be off of the cardiac floor
and in with gynecology, oncology and nephrology (had to look that one up. It has to do with the kidneys). Once they got her moved, she had a bath
(first one in a week. That had to feel
good). The docs changed her antibiotic
to the big guns to try to knock out this new infection. Oh, and just before she moved, she did walk a
few steps with the physical therapy guy, from the chair to the bed. That actually sounds better than it was,
though. Remember the nickname for the
last room she was in was “The Closet.”
And she was worn out by the time she made it back to the chair. Baby steps.
I
had to leave early to get by Office Depot and order the programs for the sunrise
service. I forced myself to slow down
enough to get a haircut, and then stopped in at WalMart for the grapes I forgot
and some more Blue Bell. Gotta stock up
while it is on sale. Last night I looked
at my plate for this week. Mom in
hospital. Take care of transfer to Meridian. Sunrise service and regular preparations. Water exercise Tuesday and Thursday
mornings. Cailyn’s surgery
Wednesday. Family visitation for Jerry
Wednesday. Funeral service for Jerry
Thursday. Wedding rehearsal Friday
night. Family Easter egg dyeing Saturday
morning. Wedding Saturday afternoon. Easter sunrise service and regular service
Sunday morning. Deliver some Easter
things to the fire stations Sunday afternoon.
That’s quite a way to spend one’s Holy Week. Yep. I’m
one tired puppy just thinking about it.
1
Chronicles 16:34 says, “Give thanks to
the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”
Father,
thank you. Thank you for hospitals and
surgeries, funerals and weddings, preparations and deliveries. It’s the end of the week that makes all the
difference. You rose from the dead. You’re alive.
You are good. Your love endures
forever. Amen.
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