Thursday, June 29, 2006

Ornery

Well, my mom is definitely recovering, because she's getting cranky and threatening to do odd cantankerous things. In fact she's already starting to cause trouble: this morning when I got there I noticed she was no longer attached to the respirator, although it was still making noise (it bubbles soothingly, kind of like one of those Zen water gardens from Walgreens, only slightly less tacky.) "Oh good," I said encouragingly, "You're off the respirator!"
"I took it off." she snapped. "I don't like it."
"Uh, Mom? Did the nurses or the doctor say you could do that?"
"I don't think they even notice." said my mother defiantly. "Besides, I can put it back on if I hear them coming."

She's also got this strange vaguely PlaySkool looking plastic contraption with some water and a little blue ball in it that she's supposed to suck air out of and then blow back into, 15 times an hour. She hates it. She says it's too hard, and there's nothing wrong with her lungs, and it's a ridiculous thing anyway. I suggested that maybe it was to strengthen her abdominal muscles and that probably the doctors and the nurses knew what they were doing and perhaps she could consider following instructions. She paid me no mind, as usual. "I think I'll hide it." she said cheerfully. "They'll never think to look for it if I hide it in the bed."

She's chased one doctor off forever, and she's absolutely refusing to let anyone else look at her, or try to fix anything else. "He just wants his name on my bill," she growled. "That quack." I explained what the doctor told me about her carotid artery, and how that should be fixed, and how that was a minor outpatient procedure where they didn't even have to cut her open.
"I know," she said. "Ernestine used to have to get it done all the time. I figured that eventually I'd have to do it too. But not here. Not now."
"But Mom," I said reasonably, "You're in the hospital now. Why not get it all over with, get it all done at once?" And then I told her the story about my car, and how the mechanic told me I needed to get this thingie fixed that was leaking some chemical on the clutch and how if I didn't get it fixed it would get worse, but I didn't get it fixed and then lo and behold three or four years later I did in fact have to replace the whole clutch and it cost me $1300 where if I'd just done it right off it would have only cost me like $300. My mother listened to this story in silence.
"See?" I said hopefully, "There's a lot to be said for doing things when they come up, all at once."
"Your car hasn't died yet, has it?" she said.

Oh great. Mom is back, and what a lovely mixed blessing that's going to be. My heart goes out to the hospital staff. We're going to have to sprinkle some major flowers and chocolates around there.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

So glad to hear things seem to be looking up a little, hang in there! I thought of another book for your mom: Runaway by Alice Munro. She writes really excellent short stories.

Anonymous said...

Oh god, that's how you can tell they're feeling better, isn't it? Agree with the Alice Munro suggestion! Anything that will distract her from her confinement can only help...

Anonymous said...

MGL, it's good to hear your mum's doing better. She sounds like a real firecracker. And I will totally nominate you for the Best Daughter Ever Award.

Anonymous said...

Ditto all of the above. Now how about a little pampering for yourself?...

Edgy Mama said...

Feisty is good!