Wednesday, July 11, 2007
worse
Yesterday we took my mother to see a surgeon as the cellulitis on her leg had turned into an open wound. The nurse practioner called me on Tuesday and said she thought we should see a plastic surgeon. We got an appt a week later. I didn't see the wound until Saturday because it had been wrapped. But she had just gotten a bath and they hadn't put the bandages back on.
OMG. I could hardly look at it.
I had a gut feeling that maybe we should take her to the emergency room last week and if it needed debreeding, it could be done before we had to wait for an office visit. I even call the NP back and suggested this and she said she thought it wasn't necessary.
Anyhoo. As luck would have it we had a terrible thunderstorm right when we were heading towards the hospital. My father has these goofy fans on the back windows that are supposed to be solar powered and remove hot air from the car. Something you would see late at night to buy on TV. So when he came in to get me at my house, my mother rolled down the window and screwed it up. So we were driving down York Road (I was driving. I refuse to be a passenger with him.) and I could barely see and should have pulled over it was raining so hard but there was nowhere to pull over. So my mother starts complaining she is getting wet because these stupid fan thing made the window not shut right after she had opened it. So my 88 year old father is in his chair backwards, no seat belt, trying to fix my mothers window and she has a rag over her face and I am trying not to kill us all. It was a very zen moment.
Well, we got there and my poor mother's back was killing her. We didn't think ahead and prophylactically get her pain meds. But we didn't have to wait that long. The surgeon looked at it for all of a few minutes and said it needed immediate attention and he wanted her admitted.
So now the skin is necrotic and he says the infection has gone down through the muscle. I asked if she would walk again and he said not for a while and I got the feeling maybe never. He said the hole will never fill in again. ick. And she will be on a machine for at least 3 days that is like a sponge cleaning it out or something.
I don't know who I am more mad at. Me for not being more proactive monitoring her care. Stella Maris for not. My father for allowing her to fall.
The only good thing in all of this latest fiasco is how impressed I was with St. Joseph hospital. AKA St. Joes.
After calling the hospital for the direct admit, the nurse walked us to the right elevator. I moved the car and by the time I got to admitting they were almost done and we sat down to wait for someone to take us to her room and she arrived immediately. By the time we got to her room there was already a fall precaution and warning not to take blood pressure or blood from her left arm because of the mastectomy. Then a nurse immediately came in and took her info and then someone was there to take her to radiology. I was home by 5:30! I hate, hate, hate GBMC.
So now I am going to retrieve her stuff from Stella Maris. I was going to talk to the doc or the NP but what is the point? Basically I want to say ... see you in court. When I packed up some additional clothes for her I put in a t-shirt that she must have gotten at a beach with metallic fish on it. Thought it would brighten her day. Well apparently it is missing from Stella Maris and my father keeps going on about how it was stolen. I finally said it is just a (fucking) t-shirt and he said no, it was a knit top and very fancy. OMG. This is the man who brought her a fancy dress when he brought clothes to the hospital when she was in for the first fall. My mother said that is the dress she wants to be buried in! I can't believe they have been married 60 years and he doesn't know the difference between church clothes and everyday clothes (now everyday hospital clothes).
Oh, oh. And he called me 8am Saturday morning after I had had a rare night out late. To ask how to wash her polyester pants because he didn't want to ruin them. ahhhhhhhhh. How can you ruin such an animal? Unless you want to melt them down for gasoline.
I just really, really need to get them stabilized and this newest wrinkle is NOT helping.
And so it goes ...
OMG. I could hardly look at it.
I had a gut feeling that maybe we should take her to the emergency room last week and if it needed debreeding, it could be done before we had to wait for an office visit. I even call the NP back and suggested this and she said she thought it wasn't necessary.
Anyhoo. As luck would have it we had a terrible thunderstorm right when we were heading towards the hospital. My father has these goofy fans on the back windows that are supposed to be solar powered and remove hot air from the car. Something you would see late at night to buy on TV. So when he came in to get me at my house, my mother rolled down the window and screwed it up. So we were driving down York Road (I was driving. I refuse to be a passenger with him.) and I could barely see and should have pulled over it was raining so hard but there was nowhere to pull over. So my mother starts complaining she is getting wet because these stupid fan thing made the window not shut right after she had opened it. So my 88 year old father is in his chair backwards, no seat belt, trying to fix my mothers window and she has a rag over her face and I am trying not to kill us all. It was a very zen moment.
Well, we got there and my poor mother's back was killing her. We didn't think ahead and prophylactically get her pain meds. But we didn't have to wait that long. The surgeon looked at it for all of a few minutes and said it needed immediate attention and he wanted her admitted.
So now the skin is necrotic and he says the infection has gone down through the muscle. I asked if she would walk again and he said not for a while and I got the feeling maybe never. He said the hole will never fill in again. ick. And she will be on a machine for at least 3 days that is like a sponge cleaning it out or something.
I don't know who I am more mad at. Me for not being more proactive monitoring her care. Stella Maris for not. My father for allowing her to fall.
The only good thing in all of this latest fiasco is how impressed I was with St. Joseph hospital. AKA St. Joes.
After calling the hospital for the direct admit, the nurse walked us to the right elevator. I moved the car and by the time I got to admitting they were almost done and we sat down to wait for someone to take us to her room and she arrived immediately. By the time we got to her room there was already a fall precaution and warning not to take blood pressure or blood from her left arm because of the mastectomy. Then a nurse immediately came in and took her info and then someone was there to take her to radiology. I was home by 5:30! I hate, hate, hate GBMC.
So now I am going to retrieve her stuff from Stella Maris. I was going to talk to the doc or the NP but what is the point? Basically I want to say ... see you in court. When I packed up some additional clothes for her I put in a t-shirt that she must have gotten at a beach with metallic fish on it. Thought it would brighten her day. Well apparently it is missing from Stella Maris and my father keeps going on about how it was stolen. I finally said it is just a (fucking) t-shirt and he said no, it was a knit top and very fancy. OMG. This is the man who brought her a fancy dress when he brought clothes to the hospital when she was in for the first fall. My mother said that is the dress she wants to be buried in! I can't believe they have been married 60 years and he doesn't know the difference between church clothes and everyday clothes (now everyday hospital clothes).
Oh, oh. And he called me 8am Saturday morning after I had had a rare night out late. To ask how to wash her polyester pants because he didn't want to ruin them. ahhhhhhhhh. How can you ruin such an animal? Unless you want to melt them down for gasoline.
I just really, really need to get them stabilized and this newest wrinkle is NOT helping.
And so it goes ...
