The Origins of the Mega-Crud
Here's a bit of info on the mega-crud, and a quasi-timeline of events leading up to the passing of my mother.
Friday the 23rd, when I went up to Seattle, I did so on a half-hour of sleep. That's not a problem, since I'm used to occasionally going without sleep for a day. But then I only got two hours of sleep that night, having received an emergency call from my mother. She wasn't doing very well at the care facility in which she was residing, waiting for her leg to heal. We ended up going to the emergency room, then were admitted to the hospital, awaiting surgery to check out her amputation site and perhaps re-close the wound (more cutting, etc.) because it just wasn't healing all that well. I will spare y'all the gory details and only use one word - drainage.
Then I got five hours of sleep (OK for me, but I was still running under a deficit). On this trip up to Seattle, I brought my daughter with me. And I'm so glad that she got a chance to talk with her grandmother, given what happened on Tuesday morning. But the two of us went back to Portland on Sunday so that she could be back in school on Monday.
Monday morning I went into work early, wanting to get an early handle on things that had been stewing. Yes, that meant less than a full night's sleep once again. There's a theme running here... At nine o'clock, after two hours at work, I talked with my brother on the phone, and he said, "You'd better get up here..."
My mother had spiked with a 104 degree fever Sunday night. Acetaminophen, and the decision to introduce a broad-spectrum antibiotic in the morning, hand brought her temperature down, and she appeared to be doing much better, but by then I was already on the road north. I didn't know how long I'd be in Seattle this time, and didn't want to repeat the bleeding of funds I'd experienced last time with eating out for every meal, so I had packed up a number of staples and planned to move into my mother's apartment for days if not a couple of weeks.
Alas, these preparations were for naught. After spending the afternoon with my mother in the hospital, I cooked a last meal at her apartment, then returned in the evening to remain with her throughout the night, just in case she needed anything. Many visitors had come to say hello during the day, cousins, an aunt, and others. But finally there was just me and mother.
She was on a whole lot of oxygen, her lungs not capable of absorbing enough from the air alone, which is in itself working on borrowed time. I don't quite know if my mother had a choice, whether she chose not to borrow any more or whether her systems just gave out on their own. Regardless, she passed quickly, having taken a final breath and then no more.
Just afterward, I called my brother and he came down to the hospital. And we cried together for a long while. Needless to day, I didn't get any sleep that night, and didn't until about seven PM that day. I finally collapsed and got a good sleep, but I had pushed myself to hard already, and something nasty found its way in. I didn't know this yet, but still felt tired as I made my way south to Portland in the wee hours of the morning. It's now Wednesday morning, and there's a bit of snow on the journey home.
Seven AM, as I came through the door, my daughter met me and asked, "How's Miki doing?"
That was the queue for a whole new session of crying. No, I hadn't told her yet. I wanted to be able to tell her in person. Had she asked before I got there, I'd left instructions to her mom to let her know and be ready for the tears. But she hadn't asked, and just assumed that daddy would return when things were better. Not this time, it seems...
And afterward, she wanted to go to school. She had a free get-out-of-school card and didn't use it. I drove her there, then waited at home for a couple of hours to see if she changed her mind. She didn't, so I headed into work. I figured, if she can go to school, I can go to work. Then, at five o-clock, I wrote a LJ post, then went home. Then, apparently, I fell down for the next five days. I don't remember much of Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, as I spend most of them unconscious or in a stupor. Sunday was better, but then the coughing took hold. I'm still coughing, but not nearly so badly, and my energy is retuning to normal levels.
Tuesday was my first day back to work in a week. Oy. Today will be better. I'm on the road again, first stop -- Salem office for some phone changes and some computer fixes.
Friday the 23rd, when I went up to Seattle, I did so on a half-hour of sleep. That's not a problem, since I'm used to occasionally going without sleep for a day. But then I only got two hours of sleep that night, having received an emergency call from my mother. She wasn't doing very well at the care facility in which she was residing, waiting for her leg to heal. We ended up going to the emergency room, then were admitted to the hospital, awaiting surgery to check out her amputation site and perhaps re-close the wound (more cutting, etc.) because it just wasn't healing all that well. I will spare y'all the gory details and only use one word - drainage.
Then I got five hours of sleep (OK for me, but I was still running under a deficit). On this trip up to Seattle, I brought my daughter with me. And I'm so glad that she got a chance to talk with her grandmother, given what happened on Tuesday morning. But the two of us went back to Portland on Sunday so that she could be back in school on Monday.
Monday morning I went into work early, wanting to get an early handle on things that had been stewing. Yes, that meant less than a full night's sleep once again. There's a theme running here... At nine o'clock, after two hours at work, I talked with my brother on the phone, and he said, "You'd better get up here..."
My mother had spiked with a 104 degree fever Sunday night. Acetaminophen, and the decision to introduce a broad-spectrum antibiotic in the morning, hand brought her temperature down, and she appeared to be doing much better, but by then I was already on the road north. I didn't know how long I'd be in Seattle this time, and didn't want to repeat the bleeding of funds I'd experienced last time with eating out for every meal, so I had packed up a number of staples and planned to move into my mother's apartment for days if not a couple of weeks.
Alas, these preparations were for naught. After spending the afternoon with my mother in the hospital, I cooked a last meal at her apartment, then returned in the evening to remain with her throughout the night, just in case she needed anything. Many visitors had come to say hello during the day, cousins, an aunt, and others. But finally there was just me and mother.
She was on a whole lot of oxygen, her lungs not capable of absorbing enough from the air alone, which is in itself working on borrowed time. I don't quite know if my mother had a choice, whether she chose not to borrow any more or whether her systems just gave out on their own. Regardless, she passed quickly, having taken a final breath and then no more.
Just afterward, I called my brother and he came down to the hospital. And we cried together for a long while. Needless to day, I didn't get any sleep that night, and didn't until about seven PM that day. I finally collapsed and got a good sleep, but I had pushed myself to hard already, and something nasty found its way in. I didn't know this yet, but still felt tired as I made my way south to Portland in the wee hours of the morning. It's now Wednesday morning, and there's a bit of snow on the journey home.
Seven AM, as I came through the door, my daughter met me and asked, "How's Miki doing?"
That was the queue for a whole new session of crying. No, I hadn't told her yet. I wanted to be able to tell her in person. Had she asked before I got there, I'd left instructions to her mom to let her know and be ready for the tears. But she hadn't asked, and just assumed that daddy would return when things were better. Not this time, it seems...
And afterward, she wanted to go to school. She had a free get-out-of-school card and didn't use it. I drove her there, then waited at home for a couple of hours to see if she changed her mind. She didn't, so I headed into work. I figured, if she can go to school, I can go to work. Then, at five o-clock, I wrote a LJ post, then went home. Then, apparently, I fell down for the next five days. I don't remember much of Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, as I spend most of them unconscious or in a stupor. Sunday was better, but then the coughing took hold. I'm still coughing, but not nearly so badly, and my energy is retuning to normal levels.
Tuesday was my first day back to work in a week. Oy. Today will be better. I'm on the road again, first stop -- Salem office for some phone changes and some computer fixes.