My cell phone died on Friday night after taking an ice-water shower. Luckily, it is just a phone and is easily replaced.
When I posted on Friday, my mother’s recovery from TKR was going exactly as planned. She was discharged from the hospital that day and went home with my sister as her caregiver for the first week. But 4 hours later they called 911 because Mom was having trouble breathing. That might be a mild understatement. An ambulance trip to the hospital was followed by the diagnosis: pulmonary embolisms in both lungs, most likely stemming from long plane rides the previous month. (It was much too soon for the blood clots to be a result of the surgery.) She is now on blood thinners and is keeping her knee immobilized instead of beginning the usual physical therapy, since no one wants bleeding at the surgery site. A few more days in the hospital will be followed by an additional week in a rehab facility, which is something we all feel good about; it’s too scary to go back home yet.
I am thankful that she had enough breath to talk on the phone this morning.
Phones are replaceable; people are not.
My mother, my father, and I each live in a different state, all far apart from one another. Both parents were in the hospital last week (and, as it turns out, are each there now as well). One of my brothers lives in the same city as our mother; the rest of us live in different states, so we have been talking with one another and e-mailing each other rather frequently these past 2 weeks. We might even be becoming less dysfunctional. There’s always a silver lining, right?
I spoke with my dad on Friday afternoon and he was sounding better to me, but the report from a sibling on Saturday was distressing enough to have me looking up flights and airfares to Arizona.
And here I thought emotional stress was getting my oldest son ready for college on the opposite side of the country and having my youngest son off at the beach with another family for a week!
My dreams last night were full of situations where I was being chased by people and things out to harm me. I usually don’t remember dreams at all, but since I was flailing about and waking my husband… who then woke me to ask me to please BE STILL… who then became part of my dreams, egging on the people/things that were chasing me… which culminated in me flailing/climbing over the side of the bed and sending books and an anniversary clock crashing to the floor at 1:30 AM (broken glass might have been involved)… at which point I removed my sleep apnea mask and lay quietly (it might have been making me feel suffocated in my dream-state)… after which I began snoring and woke my husband AGAIN… so I went to sleep on the sofa. Why, yes, I do remember quite a few of my dreams last night.
The good news is that my cell phone can no longer be the bearer of bad news.
Thankfully, the land-line and e-mail both brought good news this morning, and hopefully the relief of that good news today will lead to a decent night’s sleep tonight.