The Train
Last Friday, I wrote about the light at the end of the tunnel and how I feared it might turn out to be a train. Well, it was.
Mom was supposed to come home today. I had her to the doctor on Tuesday and he took her out of her brace, pleased with the healing shown on the x-rays. All was good.
And then yesterday, while sitting in her chair reading the newspaper, the hip dislocated again.
I followed the ambulance into Allegheny General Hospital as it transported her to the emergency room. After more x-rays and a thorough exam, they asked me where the brace was.
It was at home.
I had to drive home, get the brace, and drive back to the city, a two-hour round trip, while they put Mom under and put the hip back in joint. Thank goodness for Starbucks. I was cruising on the strength of a venti white chocolate mocha.
Once it was all done, I was able to drive Mom back to the Health Center, arriving there around 10:30 last night. What a day.
So she’s scheduled for more surgery next week. Obviously, this thing is not going to stay put on its own. The only thing keeping it there is the brace.
Somehow, I think there must be a book in all of this. A short story at the very least. But all this up-close-and-personal research of the medical and nursing home worlds has got to be good for something.
Mom was supposed to come home today. I had her to the doctor on Tuesday and he took her out of her brace, pleased with the healing shown on the x-rays. All was good.
And then yesterday, while sitting in her chair reading the newspaper, the hip dislocated again.
I followed the ambulance into Allegheny General Hospital as it transported her to the emergency room. After more x-rays and a thorough exam, they asked me where the brace was.
It was at home.
I had to drive home, get the brace, and drive back to the city, a two-hour round trip, while they put Mom under and put the hip back in joint. Thank goodness for Starbucks. I was cruising on the strength of a venti white chocolate mocha.
Once it was all done, I was able to drive Mom back to the Health Center, arriving there around 10:30 last night. What a day.
So she’s scheduled for more surgery next week. Obviously, this thing is not going to stay put on its own. The only thing keeping it there is the brace.
Somehow, I think there must be a book in all of this. A short story at the very least. But all this up-close-and-personal research of the medical and nursing home worlds has got to be good for something.
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