As I was going through my homeschool day yesterday, praying for Frankie, and keeping the kids on task, I called my mom to see if she was coming over. She said no, “I was so tired last night I couldn’t even eat dinner.”
That just isn’t like my mom. She lives in a beautiful retirement independent living facility that serves wonderful meals that mom thoroughly enjoys. It’s not like her not to eat.
So I called back later to see how she was feeling and if she had called her doctor. “No. sigh. I’m just laying here. sigh. I haven’t eaten. sigh. Maybe I’ll call them after I get some soup. sigh.”
Mom tends to malinger a bit, but all of the sighing and what sounded to me like shortness of breath was worrisome. So I called and left a message with her doctor. They called the independent living nurse who went over to evaluate my mom. Come to find out she does indeed have shortness of breath, a rapid pulse, and a fever. The doctor suspected pneumonia!
I decided to drive mom to the hospital myself. I had to have Mr. Pete leave work to take Izzy to hear art class. I arranged for Calvin to pick her up after his swim practice was over. I also reminded Mr. Pete that we had confirmation practice for Sam that night at 7:00.
With my family arrangements made (potatoe and ham soup cooking on the stove top!) I took Gabe and we went over to grandma’s. It was 3:00 Gabe grabbed a wheel chair on my orders from the front desk at the independent living office. When we got to grandma’s she was lying on the bed, fully dressed but no socks and shoes. The nurse was standing over her and she looked terrible. She did manage to get her shoes and socks on but even that winded her. We got her in the wheel chair and down to the car.
On the way to the hospital she said she was very hungry. I wanted to drive through McDonald’s or Burger King so I wouldn’t have to get out of the car, but mom wanted soup. We stopped at this restaurant that I know has soup to go and I got her a carton of chicken noodle. She had maybe only an eighth of a cup, but at least it was something.
The hospital has only two parking spaces in the emergency area for cars. The rest are for police and ambulances. I don’t know what they expect other people with emergencies to do. I pulled up to the main entrace and trusty Gabe got out, again on my orders and found a wheel chair for mom. He wheeled her into the hospital while I tried to find a place to park. I thought that was a quite a mature thing for an 11-year-old to do and Gabe handled it very well.
When we finally met up I wheeled mom over to admission, which got us in touch with the ER which was expecting us. Gabe got quite an education as blood was drawn and vitals taken. He had to wait in the waiting room alone while I helped mom change into a hospital gown. I explained to a nurse that my 11-year-old was out there all alone with our coats and my purse and although they don’t usually like children in the ER, she went and brought him back. Gabe’s big enough at 5’4 and 130 pounds to pass for a small adult and he sure carried himself like one. When grandma needed water, he gave her some. He was helpful when he could be and he stayed out of the way when he should.
By 7:00 grandma had had her x-rays, had to use the bedpan, had water, but still, nothing more to eat, been examined by two physicians and started on some oral antibiotics. They were indeed admitting her and we were just waiting for a room. She was really sleepy. I kissed her goodbye, as did Gabe and we left. I knew if I hurried I could make it over to confirmation practice, at least part of it. As luck would have it, my sister was able to get up to the hospital right after mom had gotten settled in her room so she was not alone long before visiting hours were over.
It should be an intense, but an interesting couple of days.
