So, I've been dealing with some Mama Drama over the past weekend and it's really been stressing me out.
My mother essentially collapsed on Friday night. My Dad and Brother were with her and called 911. She was fine and then suddenly lost the use of her legs as she was standing at the sink.
She just couldn't stand up. She had no strength at all in her legs.
The emergency room diagnosed her with a urinary tract infection and sent her home. They said the fever and infection caused her to collapse like she did.
I wasn't convinced, but I'm not a doctor. I also know my mother and the odds that this infection and fever had been raging through her fragile little body for way longer than she let on were pretty good.
Remember the previous Mama Drama?
Yeah. She's not really a good patient.
So, I call her the next day to check in on her.
No answer at the house. Three times.
No answer on her cell. Three times.
I call my Dad at work. He says she was fine this morning and was going to go do some shopping. Nothing to worry about.
Of course she's shopping. She was just in the emergency room and she should be at home, resting and taking antibiotics. Why wouldn't she go shopping?
So, I don't worry. I know that she is stubborn and if she was feeling better, she probably is out shopping.
I'm still a little worried though. I call my Dad as soon as he gets home.
I can already hear it in his voice and my heart sinks. He came home to find her lying on the floor next to the bed. She had collapsed again and couldn't get herself back up. She had been lying there for 3 hours.
He picked her up and she was saying she was okay and just wanted to go back to bed and rest.
Thank God he didn't give in and he called 911 right away.
I was 2 hours away and utterly useless. He told me not to come down until I heard from him. He didn't want me driving that far at night by myself.
All I could do was wait.
After three hours, I finally get the call from my brother. She was being admitted to the hospital.
I packed my bag and went down the next morning.
When I walked into that hospital room, my heart sank again.
I've never seen my mother looking so fragile. So sick. So weak. So old. It scared the hell out of me.
My mother is 68 years old and she looked like she was 100. In her wrinkled face, I saw the faces of my grandmother, my Aunt Irma, my Aunt Hazel, my Aunt Edna. All who have passed. All who had the same wrinkled face in their later years.
I saw her vulnerability. Her mortality.
I have never been more terrified in my entire life.
My fragile little mother, lying in that bed with tubes everywhere and absolutely no color in her face.
Thank God she was able to get better. Her fever broke by Monday and the doctor sent her home today. They still don't know what type of infection she has or what caused this to happen.
That's a little scary.
She is feeling much better though. She has to follow up with her doctors and do some more bloodwork so they can hopefully figure out what happened.
I've already told her she needs to take it easy and not push herself. She is already talking about decorating the house for Christmas and going back to work tomorrow morning.
I can't argue with the woman. She's stubborn as hell.
All I can do is pray that the doctors figure out what happened so it doesn't happen again.
I've already told her that if she doesn't answer the phone again, I'm sending someone to bust down the door. Just the thought of her lying on the floor, unable to get herself up or call for help breaks my heart.
Sometimes it really sucks to be so far away from my family when they need me the most.