Teddy Bears and Marxism at the Hospital

Mom’s doing ok – about 2 days post-operative and she’s been up walking, is gaining strength, but still very tired.  Issues with trailer park behavior are minimal – although i’m considering bringing a baseball bat tomorrow just in case.

Scores and Highlights:

     – Recovering from invasive surgery, such as bypass, includes a regimen of coughing.  It helps keep pneumonia at bay, brings up excess lung-butter and exercises the pulmonary system.  The challenge is the suture line – too much pressure and internal organs make unwelcome cameo appearances.  Hospitals routinely use a device known as “Sir Koff-a-lot” to aid patients.  It’s beautiful to see all of the patients in cardiac intensive care – mostly elderly – clinging tightly to their bears.  Mom is quite fond of her bear, and wants him tucked in with her before sleeping – “in case i need to cough”.  If she didn’t look like hell, i’d take a picture.  When she’s feeling better, we’ll need to name him.  My suggestion?  “Loogie”…

     – Per square foot, a hospital parking lot may be the most dangerous place to drive on earth.  i was almost clobbered three times today.  Between people under stress, driving on unfamiliar turf, and the armada of land-yachts, appearing to be driverless since the operators are too short to be visible, it’s treacherous.  Good thing there’s a hospital nearby – someone could get hurt.

     – Yesterday, after arriving at the hospital, seeing Mom up a mere 24 hours after having her chest cracked open, gumming oatmeal eating breakfast, i called my niece, DQ with an update.  i told her to call her mother, S (my ridiculously self-absorbed sister), and that i’d contact my other sister and brother.  Shortly thereafter, S called me and wanted to talk to Mom.  “I call her every day when I drive to work.  I had a really hard time this morning because I couldn’t call her… I don’t think anyone understands how important it is for me to talk to her every day…”.  Against my better judgment, i told her to keep it short and handed the phone to Mom.  Because she was agonizingly tired, Mom kept it short.  i hung up as soon as Mom was done… and turned off my phone.  Oops…

     – Invariably this morning, S called me before i had even arrived at the hospital.  Once again, she wanted to talk to Mom.  i pointed out that i was still driving, stuck in traffic, and in a hurry to get there in time to catch the surgeon on morning rounds.  She then said “I don’t think anyone understands what a hard time I’m having with this.  I talk to Mom every morning…”.  i interrupted and said “Yes, it’s clear you’re having a hard time.  But you need to get past that – this isn’t about you, it’s about Mom, and her needs come first.”  I then got blasted with “I DO put Mom’s needs first… blah… blah…”.  i said “Incoming call, gotta go” and hung up…  Before arriving in the ICU, i turned off my phone.  Oops…

     – Mom may be discharged as early as Friday.  She has expressed preference to go into a skilled nursing facility for cardiac rehabilitation before coming home.  The biggest reason?  She refuses to allow home health care workers to come to the house*.  We have about two days to find a suitable facility.  After leaving the hospital today, i’d arranged to visit a highly recommended facility.  DQ and S offered to meet me there – and i was glad to have their help.  It was fine.  Smelled a little like poo and disinfectant, but it was clean.  i was impressed with the low staff turnover.  i also checked classified ads last night to see if they are hiring – gives an indication of current staffing levels.  DQ not only called everyone she knows to get references, but was interrogating family members leaving the facility when we got there to learn of concerns or issues.  She’s good.  For all the trailer park behavior, if i ever have to bury a body, i’d call DQ.

So far, so good.  DQ has dropped into “force of nature” mode, and provides spectacular assistance for Mom.  S has, for the most part, been just an annoyance, rather than a hindance.  And she’s trying to help. 

Although they don’t know the origin of the quote, i often remind my entire family that we need to be tolerant and patient when dealing with stressful medical situations.  “From each according to his ability.  To each according to his need.**”

Mom asked me if i could have that made into a needlepoint wall hanging.  i might do that…

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* Although we’ve tried for years to help clean and organize, Mom’s house is a cluttered shithole.  Avec spiders [shudder].  We clean it, get it organized?  She lets entropy conquer.  We gave up.  She wouldn’t allow home health care workers in the house to assist with Dad’s care, even though his preference was to be at home.

** Credited to the least funny Marx brother, Karl.