Panic, my new friend
The nurse at the assisted living place called and said mom had a fever and shortness of breath.
I've read that phrase "my blood ran cold" before but I don't think I had ever experienced it before. That's exactly what it felt like, though. I immediately had chills--like, teeth-chattering, hands-shaking, brain-breaking chills. I think I realized pretty quickly it was a shock response. It took several minutes of lying under a blanket in front of the fire with E. and the girls to calm down. I felt fine, I realized what was happening, but my body just did it's own thing.
I had picked her up from the hospital Tuesday, so there was that exposure. I'm just really, really scared of getting sick. Of what it would mean to not be able to breath, to be the emergency instead of responding to emergencies. Of the inhaler in the medicine cabinet, how E. would have to take care of me, what would happen to the girls. A. has a history of respiratory issues, too--fifteen and still gets croup sometimes.
And then there's just the constant noise of mom's emergencies, stretching out for weeks now. Every twelve hours for a week we would get a call that something again had gone wrong. Every morning I would wake up and feel okay and then check the phone and feel like throwing up. And by evening my brother and I would just be strategizing about what next step we could take to keep the whole thing from just blowing up.
This is her third hospitalization since moving to the facility, which was only a few weeks ago. Once for a fall in the night where she got tangled in her blanket and fell, cracking her head open on a dresser. Once when they couldn't get her up off the floor and her blood pressure tanked. At that point, too, she had stopped making sense and I think had truly lost it. When she got to the hospital they thought sepsis had set in but after IV fluids she recovered. Physically, anyway.
And now. Hospital again. This time with RSV, a children's disease, and shingles. Her Coronavirus test came back negative, though I had already figured she probably didn't have it--no cough, her fever had gone right done. Still, I was about as relieved as I've ever been.
But what do with her now? She's getting a psych assessment today. Then what? Is she stable enough to try living with my stepdad again? They'll be in isolation for several more weeks, with little support beyond the med techs who deliver her medications. If she doesn't move back in with him, where? A nursing home? And will they begin to wean her off the huge pharmacy she's on? Every doctor we talk to says that has to happen. But my stepdad is really opposed, and because she's got the sleep issues and the pain syndrome and the mental health issues all wrapped up together, I understand why. It's possible they'll pull one thread and the whole thing comes unraveled.
It's also so, so expensive, nursing care. We haven't sold their house yet, are weeks away from even being able to list it, and will houses be selling then?
If we move her back in with dad, though, there's a good chance she ends up back in the ER. How many times do we do that?
I can only think about these things for so many hours everyday and then have to distract myself with other tasks or little pleasures. I can only do the next thing, or else be drowned by the panic myself.
I've read that phrase "my blood ran cold" before but I don't think I had ever experienced it before. That's exactly what it felt like, though. I immediately had chills--like, teeth-chattering, hands-shaking, brain-breaking chills. I think I realized pretty quickly it was a shock response. It took several minutes of lying under a blanket in front of the fire with E. and the girls to calm down. I felt fine, I realized what was happening, but my body just did it's own thing.
I had picked her up from the hospital Tuesday, so there was that exposure. I'm just really, really scared of getting sick. Of what it would mean to not be able to breath, to be the emergency instead of responding to emergencies. Of the inhaler in the medicine cabinet, how E. would have to take care of me, what would happen to the girls. A. has a history of respiratory issues, too--fifteen and still gets croup sometimes.
And then there's just the constant noise of mom's emergencies, stretching out for weeks now. Every twelve hours for a week we would get a call that something again had gone wrong. Every morning I would wake up and feel okay and then check the phone and feel like throwing up. And by evening my brother and I would just be strategizing about what next step we could take to keep the whole thing from just blowing up.
This is her third hospitalization since moving to the facility, which was only a few weeks ago. Once for a fall in the night where she got tangled in her blanket and fell, cracking her head open on a dresser. Once when they couldn't get her up off the floor and her blood pressure tanked. At that point, too, she had stopped making sense and I think had truly lost it. When she got to the hospital they thought sepsis had set in but after IV fluids she recovered. Physically, anyway.
And now. Hospital again. This time with RSV, a children's disease, and shingles. Her Coronavirus test came back negative, though I had already figured she probably didn't have it--no cough, her fever had gone right done. Still, I was about as relieved as I've ever been.
But what do with her now? She's getting a psych assessment today. Then what? Is she stable enough to try living with my stepdad again? They'll be in isolation for several more weeks, with little support beyond the med techs who deliver her medications. If she doesn't move back in with him, where? A nursing home? And will they begin to wean her off the huge pharmacy she's on? Every doctor we talk to says that has to happen. But my stepdad is really opposed, and because she's got the sleep issues and the pain syndrome and the mental health issues all wrapped up together, I understand why. It's possible they'll pull one thread and the whole thing comes unraveled.
It's also so, so expensive, nursing care. We haven't sold their house yet, are weeks away from even being able to list it, and will houses be selling then?
If we move her back in with dad, though, there's a good chance she ends up back in the ER. How many times do we do that?
I can only think about these things for so many hours everyday and then have to distract myself with other tasks or little pleasures. I can only do the next thing, or else be drowned by the panic myself.
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