Tuesday afternoon I figured that my mom was going to need a caregiver the next day, so I called the agency. I was awakened Wednesday, January 17th with a phone call by the caregiver (not her usual one, as she now had a new client since we decided we didn't need her on Wednesdays anymore). She said that my mom was getting really sick, throwing up and having diarrhea. My mom couldn't even keep down her medicine. I sat and thought for a few minutes, and then I told the caregiver that I was going to call my mom's doctor.
The doctor's nurse got back to me pretty quickly. She told me that the doctor said to take my mom to the ER to have her admitted. The caregiver got my mom dressed and I got over there as fast as I could. When we got to the ER I told the receptionist that my mom's doctor had requested she be admitted and she told me to tell that to the triage nurse. So we went and sat back down. We seemed to have waited forever. I know they treat patients on level of severity, but I thought being told that the doctor wanted the patient admitted would pull some clout. My mom had another "barf bag" and was sitting there having bouts of dry heaves and just throwing up a little liquid. People got up and moved. I felt bad for them because with having emet I could understand how they felt, and bad for my mom. By then I was like, it's my mom, she's been doing this for three days, what am I gonna do, you know?
What seemed about like 45 minutes later, the triage nurse called us and got all the info. and I also told her that my mom's doctor wanted her admitted, but that didn't seem to carry much weight with her either. As it had been over the last 3 days, my mom's blood pressure was high (it was for quite a while until she got sick last January) and the rest of her vitals were the same. Then we were wheeled back into the waiting room. More waiting, and then we were finally taken back into a room. This seemed like the longest wait we'd ever had.
So we went through the usual, my mom getting put into a gown, etc., then more waiting. She was still having mostly dry heaves. When the nurse finally came to put in an IV, she could not find a vein. Geez no wonder, by that time my mom had become a human pin cushion or a voodoo doll with all of the IVs that had been put in her and blood that had been taken. They tried the typical places, the arms and tops of her hands. Then another nurse tried the top of her foot and he thought they got it, but when another nurse came in to set up the IV, it wasn't working. The doctor came in and said he wanted to do a "central line." They were going to go through her neck. That scared me. I had tears running down my face. Well, they couldn't get that to work either. The doctor said they were going to have to go in through the groin. That sounded just awful. I had to go out. I called Jeff and told him what was going on. I went back in and my mom told me that one nurse came in and found a vein in her arm. What a relief! It was awful though, because my mom had pain and nausea, and she couldn't get anything for it for at least an hour or more because it took them so long to find a vein. Someone from the lab did come in and have to take blood though. Fortunately she was successful. But my mom…she had cotton balls covered with tape and bruises all areas of her body where blood is usually taken.
We waited a very long time down in the ER. And it got pretty nasty. I don't know what was worse, the night the person who coded died, or this. On the upside, the doctor said that because of my mom going through three days of this, it was likely that she'd be admitted. But good news seems to come with a price…the price being two loudly vomiting ladies, with one in the curtain area right next to us. So there I was sitting in my chair with my hands over my ears and my eyes closed (why eyes closed I have no idea…it's not like I could see her). It's like they were taking turns. Pretty soon I was sorta getting "used" to it. I was still bothered by it, but I didn't panic and was just rolling my eyes more than anything else, like covering my ears was becoming an inconvenience.
I really didn't panic at all. I HATED hearing it and was somewhat nervous, but I didn't cry or run out of the room or hyperventilate or feel nauseous. As long as I knew I wasn't too terribly close to the person, had pretty much no chance of getting it (most of the vomiters are not vomiting from a stomach virus when they're in the ER, right?), and didn't have to see or smell it, I was PRETTY much sort of okay with it. If there is such a thing as being pretty much sort okay with something. I don't know why. It could have been that I was getting used to my mom, but hers was mostly dry. I think if it wasn't, that would have been a different story. I could HEAR that theirs wasn't dry, I could hear stuff coming up (sorry this is so gross). Since I had to be so close to my mom though, and had been told that she might have a stomach virus, that part still freaked me out.
She didn't get a room for what seemed like at least another hour or so. And then even after she was told she got a room, it seemed like half an hour more until she got going to the room. Unfortunately she had a roommate. Blah. I hate when she has roommates. No privacy. At least the roommate didn't have tons of family around, but still. I stayed for a while. I was exhausted though.
My mom wanted me to stay until with her until she fell asleep. I think that was the longest of our ER stays. We stayed close to eight hours. She was SO cold. The room up there was warm (we were on the top floor), but through most of this she was cold and the ER was cold. I put on my gloves and put my hands on her arm closest to me. She started dozing off and then opened her eyes and saw me there. She told me that I didn't need to stay anymore, that I'd had a long day. I asked her if she was sure and she said she was. I didn't want to go but I knew I needed to. Three days with hardly any food and not much sleep…I really needed to go.
And so after taking her to the ER and trying so hard to get her admitted, trying to get someone to SEE that I just can't keep bringing her in day after day and letting her get sicker and sicker, I FINALLY got her admitted. Me. All by myself. Wow. *I* did that. How have I been able to do all of this? AGAIN? I'm not bragging, just kind of in awe of myself. I just don't feel like the person who did this and the person sitting here typing this are the same person.
And now my mom is all safe and is going to finally get help the help she needs and she's going to get all better. Right?
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