Friday, February 4, 2011


When I arrived today to my mother's room, I found my two sisters and an oxygen tube leading to her nose. Apparently, yesterday, during dialysis, her blood pressure crashed. It is not clear what the sequence of events might have been, leading to her need to be on oxygen. I have terrible anxiety at this point.

The folder in her room indicates that more than 60% of the people in the hospital-level rehab (where she now is) are there because of how medically complicated their pictures are. That's my mother, certainly: The aneurysms, the ulcer, the GI bleed, the diverticulitis and associated abscess, the kidney failure, her legs' incapacity to hold her up, and her cataracts' effects on her vision. Of course, she was already auditorially challenged.

She is on two antibiotics but probably has a UTI. She does have a yeast infection, visible to one nurse. She seemed a bit confused early on, but later was alert to her situation -- and sad.

She expressed that what she craves most is the ability to see, to read, to verify. Next, she would feel less on the fringes of the family if she could hear. Man, I wish I could make that difference for her! I feel like all I can do is visit -- but I don't know that visits answer anybody's needs but mine.

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