4am’s Thanksgiving – Part II

When my mom indicated she knew what had happened, the nurses removed her breathing tube. We circled her bed as she told us she’d gotten thirsty and got up from the couch for water. She started feeling dizzy. Because she didn’t want to fall, she slid down the refrigerator to the floor. Whatever happened, struck, and she couldn’t move any part of her body or speak. She said her eyes stopped moving, and she couldn’t swallow. But she was conscious, aware, the entire time. She could hear the television in the background. She could feel her dog licking her face. She started thinking no one would ever find her.

She knew David had arrived, heard him call 911 and me. Remembered the trip on the ambulance to the hospital. Knew they had sedated her for the intubation, but had woken up in the middle of that.

The doctors couldn’t figure it out; her CAT scan was clear. The best they could come up with was that she had a TIA (mini-stroke), and they wanted to keep her in the ICU for observation.

We agreed, and I went out to the waiting room. David and his two kids were there along with Hubs and my two children. I updated them, and David said they still couldn’t find our sister.

David, ever the humorist, said, “Isn’t it interesting? Mom’s on the floor, half-dead, and Sarah’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I should have checked the silver.”

After sending Hubs and the kids back to my mother’s house in case Sarah should show up there, David and I stayed at the hospital until Mom was settled.

Mom was already in her usual feisty spirits. She asked David why he allowed her to be sent to Portsmouth Hospital. I gladly let him field that one. She’s made it well-known how much she despises PRH. I mean, this is the kind of opinion she shares with the mailman. David tried to explain to her that it had been the EMTs call as they claimed PRH had a better neuro facility than York. My mother snorted, which sent the breathing apparatus into some funky levels. The nurse gently reminded her to breathe.

Then Mom fixed her eyes on me. “And you didn’t believe David when he told you what had happened.”

Oh boy. I felt David push me forward, and I kind of elbowed him in return. But I stood alongside her bed and explained. “Well, that’s because he told me you were foaming at the mouth. I thought it was a joke.” I smiled brightly. “You know what kidders we all are.”

While the nurse took down her medical history, Mom gave me directions about Thanksgiving dinner. She insisted we still have it. She’d bought a 24-pound turkey and had made the stuffing and squash and polished the silver and didn’t want it to go to waste.

A doctor appeared. He introduced himself and asked some questions about her medications. The subject of warfarin (blood thinner) came up, and Mom sat up as straight as she could (which wasn’t very straight considering she was fixed to a bunch of machines).

Warfarin = Rat Poison

Warfarin = Rat Poison

Her eyes blazed. “I know all about warfarin. It’s rat poison. I mean it’s really rat poison. You people aren’t getting me back on that, I can promise you.”

David and I looked at each other. I had a feeling it was going to be a long weekend.

          *          *          *          *          *

This is my Thanksgiving tale. If you missed the first post, you can read it here.

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70 thoughts on “4am’s Thanksgiving – Part II

  1. God, this is so evocative of my experience with my mother. She was subject to TIAs anwas on warfarin. Some idiot visiting a sick relative in the hospital fell into conversation with her after an episode landed her there and he told he that warfarin is rat poison. After that, she refused to take it anymore for a while. I finally had to sither down ad explain how the drug works — by slightly decreasing her blood’s tendency to clot. I explained that they use it as a rat poison by giving the creatures a * massive* overdose, something thay are very careful not to do in people.

    She finally relented and agreed to go back on the drug. Then some idiot — this one with MD after his name — prescribed another anticlotting drug that worked via a different mechanism than affecting clotting. But it also had a small dose aspirin built into it. Aspirin des effect clotting.

    She started bleeding internally, ended up in ICU and for a while they though we were going to lose her. I had to fly to Long Island from Illinois. When I walked into her room in ICU, a priest was there giving her last rites.

    I was so angry at her doctors that it was all I could do to keep from throttling them.

    I’m glad to hear that your mom is okay.

    Tony

    • Gosh, Tony, that is a horrible experience. I don’t blame you for wanting to throttle the doctors. I think that these days there are too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak. Because we no longer see just one doctor for everything we end up getting a lot of different medical advice. It’s hard to keep it all straight.

  2. I love the way you’ve brought us into this event with you. And I have to smile and laugh at some of the similarities I see with my own family! (Another cosmic coincidence—one of my brothers is named David.)

    I hope all continues to go well and, as loonyliterature said above, your Christmas is dull in comparison!

    PS—Riley’s logic is precious! :)

  3. Pingback: 4am’s Thanksgiving – Part II « Nobody's Child

  4. My mom had a TIA several years ago but didn’t tell my brother for several days. Stubborn, much? And people wonder where I get it from. Her’s was more the massive headache, not feeling right, something wrong version so, even though my brother lives with her, he didn’t see the clues. I hope your holiday season goes off without any more hitches.

    • Hey Neeks, yes, that’s one part of the story that everyone says was so smart of her. Being that she was standing in the kitchen, if she’d fallen, she would have been hurt badly. Absolutely, great advice — feeling dizzy, sit down wherever you might be to save yourself from falling.

  5. Such a terrible and scary thing for you all to experience, but it’s good to see your mother lost none of her spunk–at least attitude-wise, anyways. :) I like her and I don’t even know her! And as loonyliterature said, I hope you have a much duller Christmas. I’d say you’ve all earned it and then some.

    • Hi Carrie, right, she has lost none of her spunk. This is a good thing in and of itself, and her fiesty attitude certainly keeps things lively! Admittedly, there are moments where I have to remind myself that her spunkiness is a good thing. ;)

      Christmas will be held at my house because the kids don’t want Santa to get lost trying to find them. We’ll pick up my mom and bring her over, so she won’t have to do anything except sit on the couch and drink eggnog. Real eggnog. Yum!

    • Hi Denise, This was certainly an eventful Thanksgiving to say the least. It’s much easier to inject the humor after the fact, but I don’t know how much humor I was feeling at the time! This story does have a couple more installments, so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up the momentum and not bore everyone to tears. :)

    • Absolutely, our parents can be very scary as they get older. Especially when they are fiercely independent and stubborn. I have been walking the fine line of her independence for several years now. I want to respect her choice to live by herself, but not at the sake of her safety. It’s extremely tough. Thanks so much for reading.

  6. Kate, I hope all has calmed down, and as others have mentioned, you can now have a quiet rest of the holiday season. I’m impressed that you were able to inject some humor in there… I bet you were very worried. You tell a good story. ; )

    • Hi Anne,

      We are doing what we can to plan out a relaxing, peaceful Christmas. The next 2 weeks will be interesting.

      It’s interesting about the humor — as you can imagine I wasn’t feeling very lighthearted during the event. But as I look back on it I see that my family handles trauma with a sense of humor. Luckily though, when it counts, we’re levelheaded and proactive. At least, I like to think we are. ;)

    • Hi Dianne, we’re still in the middle of trying to figure out exactly what precipitated the event. However, she is well enough to be home and that’s a huge step in the right direction. Thanks for swinging by. :)

  7. Your mom sounds like a fighter…I’m cheering for her continuing recovery. Hope y’all did enjoy that turkey at her urging, and really hope she will enjoy the Christmas goose that you and your brother will cook for her, right? (well, okay, whatever your traditional meal might be.)

    • Hi Jagoda,
      She is certainly a fighter — in more ways than one! (As you’ll continue to see in future posts…) We did enjoy the dinner, and it was kind of amusing trying to replicate her recipes as we just couldn’t get a couple of dishes right.

      We will have Christmas at our house and have her over for the day. She won’t have to do a thing except sit, listen to Christmas music, and drink homemade eggnog. Goose? Hmm, it’s a possibility! :) Thanks for swinging by.

  8. Even though I chuckled through a lot of the relation of this story (many of your details are evocative, and the banter is great!), it’s still terribly scary to imagine what you must have been feeling during this time. I give you a lot of credit for putting it all down, Kate! Though, I wonder if that is cathartic in its way, too.

    I hope your mom is doing better, now. (She sounds like a feisty lady!)

  9. Giving directions for Thanksgiving dinner while in the hospital bed–feisty spirits indeed! I’m glad you’re mom is moving in the right direction. The way you explained her ordeal–unable to move, but still able to think–that sounds like a nightmare. Wow.

  10. Made me laugh whether is was supposed to or not :) Does it worry you that they say we all turn into our mothers??? You’re a good daughter, Ms. Kate. Merry Christmas – hopefully less medically-intense than THanksgiving!

    • Hi Amy, yes I am glad it made you laugh. Humor is mostly what kept me going the past few weeks. Um, yes, I do often fret about turning into my mother. Merry Christmas to you too!

  11. Mild strokes are insane! they thought my mother had one because she had a twisted mouth and one of her eyes was weird, but it turned out to be bell’s palsey. My grandfather walked in to work one day and my great-grandmother took one look at him and knew something was wrong. Until he saw a doctor, he had no idea he’d have several small strokes.
    I’m so glad your brother got there when he did and has the presence of mind to take action. Sometimes people just freeze, and there isn’t always time for that.
    I’m also wishing for a nice, quiet Christmas for you and your family.

    • Oh wow, that is a scary story about your grandfather. One wouldn’t think it’s possible to be up and walking after having a stroke, no matter how small it is.

      I’m glad my brother took action quickly too. It’s a blessing he was there.

      Thanks for your kind wishes. I hope you have a lovely Christmas too, lovelylici. :)

  12. It all sounds so scary, but it’s always good to find humor wherever possible. Since you’ve found the humor in this, I’m sure you can find it in everything! I hope your family has a Merry Christmas with lots of egg nog and laughter! :)

    • Hi Sheila, I feel grateful that I can see the light side to all of this. It is what has kept me going, I think. Thanks for the Christmas wishes. I hope you have a merry one also! :)

  13. I’m a bit behind on my blog reading and commenting, so I haven’t read all the comments here, but I did just see JM’s and commented that my brother is called David too!

    I love how you’ve told the tale with humour (that’s humour with a British ‘u’ in it ;) ) – a girl after my own heart, I always try to find humour in situations, it’s a good coping mechanism.

    Sending your mother good wishes for continued good recovery and health, and strength to you all!

    • Hi Vanessa, isn’t that funny that we all have brothers named David. And my brother insists on ‘David’, not ‘Dave’. Thanks Vanessa, I appreciate that. I wouldn’t have thought I’d tell this tale with a humorous spin before I actually did it. But I’m glad I did. It helped me. :)

  14. Pingback: 4am’s Thanksgiving – Part III « 4amWriter

  15. Pingback: My Mom, the Patient | 4amWriter

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