Saying goodbye

Meg is an addict; I am currently in a comped executive suite at  a Harrah's property. She has apparently raised the bar for her comps since I last travelled with her, cos we have it for free. o_O This is easily the nicest place I have stayed in, and I know that makes me sound like a rube, but I don't care.

We are burying Mummers on Saturday, and I really feel as if my soul has been ripped out. There is just no reason for what happened. None. And I feel such guilt over my not having figured out what was going on that I do not know if I will ever get over this.

Leaving Twice.

My mother left again today.

Leaving Twice

I am good at reading faces, especially if I know the person. For example, when Mom was in CICU before and swacked out of her mind, I could tell when she was 'available' to be roused, and when it would be futile to try. I can't really explain how, but it was a change in her face; when I tried to pick apart how I could tell, I think I attended more to the eye area -- beneath her eye, still in the orbital area, there was a change when she was rousable, almost like the muscle tone changed.

I did not see that at all today. She stayed 'gone' and unreachable. So my mother may have left today...at least the part of her that I guess is the mind or spirit, the part of her that was Her. At least I feel this may be so.

I love you, Mommy.



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My Mommy.

So far is still holding on. My heart is breaking. My mother is a fighter.

It is sad that it takes tragedy to make us see how precious we are to each other. I am afraid to sleep. I am afraid of The Phone Call.


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Today.

I can't think of good titles anymore. At least not right now.

We found out today that Mom has a yeast infection in her blood...which basically means this idiotic hospital let her cultivate one for too long. She started Micafungin tonight, and I am hoping it does something towards improving her. We are having to fight still to get a paracentesis done cos her INR is high; they want her at 1.5, and she may never see that again. When she was brought to CICU, she was at 2.2. She's been getting FFP (fresh frozen plasma) and vitamin K to bring it down. I --we -- are continuing to fight for her because that is what she wanted. She flatly refused Hospice. So let us hope and believe, because that was what she would want.

The cat she rescued, Sweetie, is sleeping on my stomach now, and she comes with me to the bathroom every freaking time I go. I'm crying. I am so sad that I cannot even begin to put words to it. I don't know what my life will be like without my crazy mommy. I can't think, and I can't sleep. I hope she pulls out of this...somehow. Even though I know that is unrealistic. I am devastated. And it will only get worse, I fear.

I guess now, with Sweetie, I have five cats. Meg will take Arby, and I may have to give Meg Weebie, cos I can't afford five cats, and Weebie gets along better with Arby than with Squooshable, Cookie, Rhett, or Sweetie. Or maybe I will find a way somehow, Ohana being what it is, and all.




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:-/

Mom is back in CICU and vented again because the hospital dragged their feet despite my raging and didn't perform a paracentesis today. All positive thoughts are welcomed. I hope Mom knows I love her.


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Happy Monday

Things are okay. Mom has developed some fluid around her liver (and jaundice to go with it), an that was supposed to have been drained today, but will be tomorrow. The cats are fine. I should have spent the weekend writing, but was mostly with Mummers. I am trying to keep my spirits up, and it is sort of working. I had a wonderful dinner with Meg on Saturday night, and a really nice lunch with her today where we accomplished a lot as far as hammering out some ideas she and I have for projects that will, hopefully, be publishable. I am working hard on fitting peace and tranquility into what I do. I did skip spending time with This Guy this weekend, and I guess that is going to have to be okay if he is going to fit into Ancodialand. Sabra is, I believe, batshit crazy, in addition to being perpetually high; I have tried to back down my involvement with her because I just don't need the nutso right now. Or the drugs use. How she thinks she is going to be able to steal away a bodybuilder from his equally-buff girlfriend and still smoke -- anything -- I'll never understand.

There is more going on, but I will have to update in the lull I'll have between my final submission and my next round of work. In the meantime, I am just plugging away at everything.

When this is all over, I am taking a vacation. I have earned it.


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Uppdayte

I should update, even though things keep changing, so here goes: I'm tired, Mom is in the hospital getting over being overdosed on Ambien at the rehab centre, and her liver enzymes aren't looking so hot. I destroyed my right Achilles tendon, and am walking like a total cripple. I think my potassium went into the toilet, and I spiked a bp of 180/115 (no, not joking) cos I went without sleep Tuesday with Mom in the ED, and she was disoriented (dialysis pts will have stuff like Ambien build up in their systems) and didn't feel well, and was calling for her mother, which is really something no one should ever have to hear. So then on Friday I again turned up at my GP's with 169/110, so for the time being I am on Lisinopril and have to learn to meditate, or something. Doc said I am better off getting the diastolic value down by any means necessary, cos otherwise I am at risk of a stroke. Neither he nor my gyn (who took the 180/115 value) believe me about the stress and potassium, but whatever. They have my best interest at heart.

I need some sleep, but am up looking for something to fall asleep listening to. :-/ I prefer stuff that is lightly brain-occupying, so that I can focus just on that. I am half-settled on some lecture podcasts, either that or something similar. Hugs. G'night.


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To Catch Up...

Okay; Mom got out of hospital and was in rehab for six or seven days when we found they'd been overdosing her on Ambien. So it was back to the ED and after two rounds of dialysis, she is getting back to normal. In the meantime, I am getting NO work done, at least not productive work. And I am achy. But the 'mom being alive' thing is of the utmost importance.

In Other News, Sabra's launched a campaign to snare a physical trainer. She's cute. She has taken up everything from dance to, well, physical training. But she won't quit smoking, neither cigarettes nor pot. At least not yet. Ah, l'amour...

Meg is as stressed as I am. 'Nuff said.

This Guy may be turning out to be a royal pain in the arse; I think he is nervous, or trying to impress me, but I keep hearing that 'I Want To Talk About Me' song in my head when I am on the phone with him, unable to get a complete sentence out. And with everything else going on, this is the wrong time to be doing that stuff. I am really only able to talk to a handful of people, and some of my support *should* be coming from him, albeit from a respectful distance, as we're not that far into a relationship. Chat support, yes; moving in and offering total emotional support, no. At least he is understanding of the fact that my family and career come first and second. So there's one favour point. 

Butsoanyway.

I have to finish writing and get fully employed in my field, that's just the bottom line. And everything else will work out.  I hope.