Tuesday, February 3, 2015

A Trip To the Doctor Confirms Our Suspicions....but not the ones we'd hoped

So, Mom went to the doctor's to find out what was up with all the pain in her pelvic region and her leg.

When I came to fetch her, she was pretty much ready-to-go!  She had one of her diet Pepsi's, and one of the travel magazines I'd brought her the day before.  She very much enjoys magazines with lots of pictures.

We went to her room where I looked for the letter I had brought her the day before.  But, instead, I found several wonderful birthday cards for her!  How well-thought of she is by her friends and family!

Later, a bouquet of tulips arrived from her brother, Peter, in Reno.

When she asked why we were going to the doctors, I told her it was for the pain in her pelvis and leg.  She poo-pooed the thought but came along, anyhow.  How gracious!

While in her room, she put her Pepsi back in the refrigerator, and then stated she wanted to see if there was any more bourbon.  Yes, you heard that correctly...but, obviously, there was none.

I did venture in to pick up the papers on her medications from the med-aid, Cathya, and I also asked her if she could check on the size of Mom's pants.  I plan on just going and buying her some, but in a slightly larger size, as Mom is a bit too fragile to go shopping at the mall.

So, off we went to the doctor's office.

We arrived in good time, and Mom went to work reading about IRA's!  She wanted to know what a couple of the terms meant, but we were interrupted before I could respond.

To be honest, Mom is having difficulty forming words, and making sense out of what she's trying to say.  This was apparent yesterday, but today it's much worse. 

Her blood pressure was taken, and Mom told the nurse that she didn't want to have any more flesh cut from her leg, showing her injured leg from 1978 (this was a hiking accident at Silver Creek Falls, where she fell, and gashed her leg open; it took 2 surgeries and some rehab to get her leg back on track so she could not only keep it, but live).    I reminded Mom it had happened nearly 38 years ago, and she gave me the dreaded 'Keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you!' look.  Oh well....

The doctor came in and we explained the problem.  She asked if there was a urine sample (to check for UTI), but there was none.  So, she asked Mom if she would be willing to produce one.  A rather terse and emphatic "No" answered that.

So, I left the room while she examined Mom.  I could hear Mom groaning in pain, but mostly it seemed rather casual (I was not eavesdropping, I was a few feet away from the door, checking my email!).  When I re-entered, there was a serving set of silverware on the examination table, which had come from Mom's pocket.  Was that the problem?  No.

It seems that Mom has an arthritic hip from her fall several years ago at home.  The pain radiates up and down her right side, and the silverware doesn't help, either.

The doctor tried to encourage Mom to go back to massage, but Mom was adamant that she wouldn't.   Mom then proceeded to explain something but couldn't muster the words, nor the thought.  I looked at the doctor.  She nodded.
"She seems to have severely declined in the past few weeks," I said.
"She has really taken a sharp turn since I last saw her," she replied.  "We'll see you again in April or May."

So, off we went off, her tremoring and shuffling (her tremors are becoming more pronounced of late), but her gait was swifter.    I had placed the silverware into her purse, and she had pinched the magazine, as she was sure she had brought it herself. <sigh>

On the way home, she kept pointing at the water.  She was seeing the clouds as water, insofar as I was able to make out.
We arrived back to St. A's, and I was able to jot down her pants' size.
She went to the bathroom, and when she came out she seemed uninterested in dinner (which had already been served), but they were holding it for her, as they know her habits by now.
So, it would seem that we are on a downhill slide, but keeping hopes up that there is still a semblance of the woman  who resides somewhere inside.

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