Mom did not talk in her sleep last night. She coughed instead. I didn't sleep well, instead I listened for Mom.
It was still early when I heard the squeal of hearing aides signaling my mother's wakefulness, but although she was out of bed and had put in her hearing aides, she did not come out of her room. I eventually peeked in on her and found her with her head on the table, "resting" as she calls it. Her blinds were open, but her shoes were empty and her bed unmade. Her pajamas, normally folded on the end of her bed, had been tossed haphazardly toward the laundry basket. Definitely not a normal morning. I took her some tea. She took a sip but acted rather lethargic and didn't come out of her room.
As soon as nine o'clock rolled around, I called the doctor's office for an appoint- ment. Her own doctor had an opening at 2:30 pm. Blah. Not good for me and little girls who arrive on a bus after school. Wasn't there anything earlier? After some talking we decided to squeeze her in with the other doctor at 10:40 am. I was warned that he often runs behind and there might be a considerable wait.
I tossed some "kid stuff" into a cloth purse for Rocky and warmed up my van. While helping Mom with her shoes I came to the realization that her oxygen hose was on the floor by her feet rather than on her face, which rather nicely explained the reason she appeared groggy and made of lead. (It was a de ja vu moment.) We finally made it out the door and to the doctor's office where Rachel met me a half hour or so later. When questioned by the doctor, Mom insisted she was fine; no pain, no discomfort, no coughing up anything vile... But the doctor said her left lung rattled slightly, and given her history and other symptoms, felt some blood work, an x-ray, and a round of antibiotics and some Musinex would be helpful. Rocky and I went to Wendy's for some French fries while Rachel took Mom for the chest x-ray.
We're all back home now. Mom has parked herself right where she was before we left his morning. It's been a weird day with her doing some weird things like reaching out as though she saw something that wasn't there. Or maybe was looking at something and it just seemed weird to me... Either way, I'm glad we took her out. I'm grateful for my sister's help, and a doctor who actually took the time to look, listen, and take action.
Now I'm ready for a quiet evening, a fire in the wood stove, and something warm to drink.
The Barn Collective.
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