A Medical Hiccup

Yesterday was an unexpectedly long and emotionally charged day. I woke up happy because I was expecting my Mom to be released to the rehab facility. My bag was packed and I was looking forward to getting her checked into her new room and driving home to see Robby (and Scooter). I was optimistic and upbeat when I walked into her hospital room.

One glance at her and I immediately realized that something had gone array during the night. My Mom looked horrendous. Her lips were blue, she was swollen and disoriented. Before I could gather all the facts a gurney was wheeled into the room and my Mom was whisked away for tests.

I learned that during the night my Mom's heart rate began to race while her oxygen levels started to fall. Coupled with her plunging platelet count, her doctors were concerned that she had developed a pulmonary embolism. She was rushed down to Nuclear Medicine for a scan of her lungs. She was sick, and all I could do was sit and wait.

All of this transpired so quickly that we assumed that information would be forthcoming. I patiently sat by her bed and waited for somebody to come and reveal the results. I read my Kindle until the battery died. I then played on my phone until it died as well. Despite repeated requests, we didn't receive the results until nearly 6:00 in the evening, ten hours later!

By the time the medical plan was discussed I was too tired to be angry or frustrated by the delay. I was simply thankful that we finally had answers, and that my Mom was going to be treated. We have been assured that this little hiccup to her health will not yield permanent implications, and that she should resume her rehabilitation plan in a few days.

The past 24 hours have been an emotional roller coaster. I am reminded how much I detest roller coasters! I'm hoping that everything is back on track and that she responds to the prescribed protocol. I am beginning to feel homesick but I plan on staying here as long as I am needed. After all, my Mom has always been there for me!