The night we were taking my mom home from the ER, (Monday) I called the agency at which the caregivers work to ask if they could send someone over in the morning to help out. Unfortunately I couldn't get her regular caregiver. I thought that I could stay over for maybe an hour at most the next morning to get her acclimated because it wasn't going to be her normal caregiver.
When I woke up, my mom was asleep and seemed okay. When the caregiver arrived around 10am, my mom woke up and started having dry heaves again...She had them a few times and was really weak and not doing well at all. After about almost an hour of that I called her doctor. It didn't take long for her doctor to call back and her nurse said to take my mom to acute care. I had only brought sweats over because I thought that once everything was situated, I'd just go home. So I had to wear the same germ-ridden clothes I wore the day before and didn't get to take a shower. By this time hand sanitizer had become my best friend. The caregiver followed me over and waited with me until they called my mom back into a room, and then I let her go.
I explained what was going on with her to about 50 million people and kept emphasizing the patch. By now she had some weird red rash on her upper chest and back. Again I kept saying how much of a coincidence it was that she would put on the patch on Saturday and then get sick on Monday. Still, no one really took that into consideration.
These rooms were really nice. They were just like doctor's offices, complete with comfy chairs, a computer and desk, closed door, total privacy. The only thing was that my mom had to lie on an uncomfortable examining recliner, so she couldn't lie on her side or anything. She had dry heaves on and off and had to go to the bathroom a few times. By this time I was getting used to her dry heaves. She was constantly carrying around what she called her "barf bag" or "security blanket;" those blue bags they give people who are vomiting at the ER. The nurses ended up bringing in a "bedside commode" when she was no longer able to get up to go to the bathroom. Yuck.
So they hooked her up to an IV and gave her something for her nausea. She was running out of veins for this and for blood tests and it was getting harder and harder for them to find one, meaning it hurt her more and more to find one. There were plenty of sticks from the night before in the ER.
She also had a really bad headache by this point and her chest was hurting from all of the vomiting. She was also hyperventilating a lot. They wanted urine and stool tests. One of the nurses brought in a cup for each and said my mom needed to give the urine and stool sample. I asked her, "Do I have to do this?" and she very rudely said, "Yeah!" It's hard to express how she said it, it. It was like, "YEAAH!" in a sarcastic/bitchy tone. I kinda got all teary and was like, "Okay," in a tiny voice. Why can't I stand up for myself? Later on I was thinking, why didn't I say, "I'm not the nurse, you are, why should I have to do your job?" So I just kinda stood there and said, "So okay, hmm, how do I do this?" One of the nurses said, "I'll bring you a 'hat.' The urine comes out in the front and the stool goes in the back."
My mom was still having diarrhea and when she had to go she got on the "commode." She ended up not being able to go "number 2" since she had no food left in her. So they weren't able to get a stool sample, which is the most important thing they needed. She felt like she had to go, but nothing came out (I'm sorry this is so gross). So one of the nurses came in and thankfully got some of the urine out the "hat" and set it next to me on the desk and said, "Here you go." Well gee, thanks.
So we waited, and waited, and waited for the results. I even curled up in one of the chairs, yes, a normal-sized chair, with me being so small, I could put my legs sideways and I fit in the whole chair…anyway I lied my arm on the desk, lied my head on my arm, and fell asleep. I don't know for how long, but it felt pretty long. The next thing I knew, a young woman came in with a wheelchair and said she'd be taking my mom out soon. Then one of the nurses came in and I was all groggy. I sounded like a little girl and I said, "Where are they taking my mom?" She said, "To x-ray, to do an abdominal series."
When she came back to take my mom down to x-ray, I felt like a walking zombie. We'd been to x-ray so many times that they recognized us. The x-rays didn't take very long and then back to the room we went and waited some more. I didn't fall back to sleep but was kind of groggy and drowsy.
I went outside to call Jeff. I hadn't eaten at all that day. And the day before (Monday), all I'd had was half a waffle. I couldn't stomach anything else and just couldn't get the waffle down. And the day before that (Sunday), all I had was I think some soup(?) and some cookies…just no appetite lately with so much going on. So that's all I'd had in two days. Jeff asked me how I was still alive. I live very close to the acute care and almost went home to get some food but I was so glad I didn't because every time I leave (which I hardly ever do…I've never left the premises when my mom was in an ER), something important happens or my mom gets sick. So I stayed.
What seemed like forever later, a nurse came in and said the doctor found a bladder infection in the results and put some antibiotics in my mom's IV. But that's all he found. She said that after the antibiotics ran out and my mom's IV ran out, my mom would probably be discharged. Then the doctor came in and told us the same thing. He prescribed some antibiotics and some phenergan (anti-nausea/vomiting medicine) and we were on our way home. My mom seemed to feel better.
When I got her home and got my mom situated, I went to the store and got her her prescriptions and some soup, saltines, 7up, etc…sick people food. She just immediately burrowed under her covers. I stayed for a while, explained her meds to her and sat by her side, but worried she'd get confused about how to take her meds. Part of me wanted to stay over, but she said she'd be okay. I don't know, I was so tired from those two days, not getting much sleep or anything to eat, that I wanted to go home. I had called to get another care provider for the next day. Unfortunately I couldn't get her regular one. I reluctantly left and called when I got home (it was a bit late and my parents like me to call when I get home. I'm 32 years old and they still worry). I just had a bad feeling.
When I got home I FINALLY got to take a shower and felt like a new woman. But I still couldn't shake the nausea. I still can't. Jeff also made me eat some soup and toast. So now I had spent a total of about 12 hours at an ER and an urgent care and with no results found, and my mom not really much better. What was going on? All I could do was hope she'd be better in the morning, and hope that I made the right decision by not staying overnight again.
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