The problem with writing about my mother is someone in my family told her horror stories about what this person felt were the "terrible" things I was publishing on the internet and now whenever anything happens she says "of course you'll put this on the internet and I won't know what you're writing about me." We've had this discussion before here in this journal and the person who blabbed intended to be kind to my mother but unnecessarily hurt her because she would never have known a thing without this "helpful person" letting her know. I have since cut off contact with this person because I feel that all the "helpful" things that were told to my mother were unnecessarily cruel.
The helpful person also has no idea of what I have shared on the internet over the years -- everything from working through issues about my father, grief issues after the kids' deaths, my struggle with weight, the frustration of trying to buy a plus-sized bra, and difficulties with work issues among other things. This person also didn't understand how much support I get from all of the people who read these entries and respond. This person also has no idea about how many of us get support from readers on the internet. And this person has no idea how many people have developed an interest in my mother and her health and truly seem to care about her.
I have tried never to say anything BAD about my mother, because I love my mother and want nothing but the best for her. But I merely try to be honest with the things that frustrate me and to which I am trying to get input in order to make things better for my mother.
That said, here's today's report on my mother. :)
We both fell asleep watching TV last night. She was on "my" couch, so I curled up on the smaller one. When I woke around midnight, she had gone to bed and had covered me with a blanket. I moved to the larger couch and went to sleep. Around 3, I was awake again and when I emerged from the bathroom, I could see that the light was on in my mother's bathroom. I thought I heard her vomiting, but I couldn't be sure.
She didn't wake up until 7:30 (but says she was awake for 3 hours in the middle of the night) and she woke up furious. She does NOT feel better. Imagine that. By that time she had taken exactly ONE pill and was furious that she still felt sick when she woke up. And yes she had vomited during the night--and why was THAT when she hadn't vomited before? (we discussed possible medication interactions)
She also had night sweats again last night and why on earth should she have that because it made her hair look so terrible.
Well...it just might have something to do with the fact that the doctor said she had a fever yesterday. The fever might have broken during the night (probably did). Anyway, she was not happy this morning.
Now, I have to say that my mother maintains a happy outlook 99.9% of the time so you know that when she complains, she really feels rotten. But by the same token, she does seem to expect that the mere fact of seeing a doctor should heal her. Unfortunately, I don't think Jesus has healed the sick since those lepers centuries ago! And her doctor doesn't really look like Jesus anyway....she doesn't have a beard, for one thing!
I went to the store for her, though she assured me I didn't need to do that. Of course she has no FOOD in the house, but no, I don't need to shop for her. Sheesh. She now has TV dinners to last her a week (what she eats most of the time), and bananas for her cereal in the morning and so she should be OK until Peach, Kathy and I get there next week for Cousins Day, by which time I sincerely hope that her infection will have cleared and she can be enjoying life again.
Then I drove home and listened to Dr. Oz talking about how a persistent cough can be a sign of lung cancer. My mother had been coughing since I got there, but she didn't think to mention that to the doctor because she's been coughing for weeks.
At least Polly seems back to normal and, as Walt describes it, "her usual obnoxious self."