Friday, July 22, 2016


I was taken off guard the other day by a call from a number that was stored in my phone almost a year ago...Caris Healthcare.  They are the band of angels that saw us through not one but two deaths in the space of five months on the same unit at our hospital.  It was about this time in July when the downhill slide began.  Daddy wasn't doing so well at the home and his doctor had said to direct admit him if things weren't going well.  We had been to the surgeon's office on Thursday to check the wound and by Monday he was back at the sawmill.  Two surgeries later, he ended up in ICCU for a week rattling like the dead from all that anesthesia.  A good and kind team of people with whom I work advised me to take the next step.  His last words to me were "i want to die."  It was peaceful and quick. and my BFF @work was sitting at the desk when I got there. 

Mama sat in that empty log cabin for a few weeks until we got her moved to the home.  Our team of haulers did it all in one day with curtains included, thank you Mo.  They tried to make her get up at 7 which she hated but the caregivers were sweet except for the one bitch who decided to take a cellphone break in Casa Mom with Millette present.  She tripped and broke her wrist right around football time in Tennessee and sported a bright orange cast from Dr. Olson while she and Harry watched the games.  It was their last season.

The hip fracture happened on her last trip to church right before Christmas.  She was barely able to talk even with a walker but wanted to go to SS and the holiday service.  Lord...she was all about the season!  I was told that she went down slowly and EMS was called.  She was surrounded by her church family which is always a good thing.  The hip was pinned....more rehab.  I remember the follow up visit with Olson quite vividly because it was cold as hell and she was wrapped in blankets in a wheelchair. The x-ray showed total failure of the less invasive procedure so here we go with another direct admit.  In the cold windy day in the Camry with a wheelchair and my mother in terrible pain.

The surgery to do the hip replacement took about 5 hours and she weathered it well.  We had some good days together since I was right there at every available moment and getting hugs from all my besties on 2N.  Bubba made sure she had snacks and the cellphone.   The trouble started on a Sunday when she complained of severe abdominal pain.  A scan showed that she had a ruptured pocket in the colon which could only be repaired with more surgery if IV antibiotics didn't work.  The white count climbed in spite of high dose multi drug therapy.  Her doctor had a conversation with her and we all got on the same page.  Tommy rolled in shortly after that and stayed by her side most of the time.  LP was working at the home by then and on Mama's last day, there was a snow and ice event that had her stuck at work and me struggling to get there.  The snow fell softly outside her window and Lauren slept on the fold out thing for the day.  We each had our time with her.

In retrospect, I see that my Daddy was a very sick man for a long time and refused help because of the running Stafford fit thing.  I was called for emergencies when he fell on the gravel or did a hit and run or made Mama cry.  The go to girl, so to speak.  The one who had no other drama AT ALL.  It's on me that I took on more than a sane person would but that's just how I'm made.  I'm Janie.  I'm co-dependent.


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