Mother’s Fight Cont.

Page 3

Volume 4, Issue 1

couple of other things done            beforehand, which is unusual.  So we went to Nuclear Medicine and then to the Radiology department for the MRI.  I spent a lot of time sitting in waiting rooms. 

I said that I didn't think that I was  being very helpful, but Mom said, "You're helping a lot just by being here."  That made me feel better.  During the time we sat in the waiting room, my mother already in a        hospital gown and robe, we had   long-overdue conversations about what I was doing in my life, how she was doing, and how the rest of the family was.  I think that these        conversations were helpful in keeping her from dwelling on what was to come.

Finally, we went over to the            out-patient surgery department, where we were brought over to the prep area.  This consisted of tiny rooms, just big enough for the cart for her to lie on, and included a wall of cabinets for medical supplies and a TV hung from the low ceiling, which I promptly hit my head on.  The nurse came in and introduced herself,     explaining that the anesthesiologist would be in soon and that the        surgeon would also come in and talk to her.  After another short wait, the anesthesiologist came in and my mother said that I could go to the waiting room.  There was nothing more that I could do for many hours but wait. In the waiting, I did the   reading and homework for my     summer class.  I was glad that I had planned ahead, so that I could stay busy.  Whenever I left the waiting room, I was required to let the desk staff know, so they could find me, just in case.  I went to get coffee twice, and ate lunch, and then went to use a computer they have set up with email access.  I also made some phone calls, letting people know how the day was going, and that, no, she was not done yet and that it would be many more hours.  Actually, the    surgery only took a couple of hours, but then she had to lie in recovery for about four hours.  In recovery, a    patient who has had surgery sleeps while the anesthesia wears off and

her vital signs return to normal.  My mother says that she had no idea that she had been sleeping for that long after the surgery.

She says that after I left her in the surgery prep area and she spoke with the   doctors, they put a mask on her, and she got very sleepy.  She remembers blurrily watching the fluorescent lights pass by as she was wheeled in her cart over to the operating room, and then, at once, somebody      shaking her foot, waking her up.  It was the nurse.  The nurse, who had apparently been trying to wake her up for some time, said, “I’ll get your daughter in here. She’ll be sure to get you up.”  When I was brought in, it looked like my mother had just barely woken up a minute before, and was struggling to stay awake.  I suspected by the way she looked, that, if I let her, she would keep sleeping for many more hours to come.  I wished that I could just let her do that, because I could tell that she really needed a lot more sleep.  But I had to be practical.  She had, after all opted for out-patient surgery, which meant that she was to leave on the same day that she came in.  Since the doctor had indicated that all was well, I needed to get her home.  So I kept waking her up, over and over, until she was able to stay awake on her own.  I have a child, so I’m used to waking somebody up in the morning.  But it seemed a little strange to be doing the same thing to my mother, since it used to be her job to get me out of bed in the morning.

She asked to sit up, so that she wouldn’t drift off again, but then she felt sick right away.  I quickly found a basin for her to hold under her face.  I made an effort to stay calm and act like none of this bothered me, since

she was in a very dependant state.  (Of course, the nurse was also there to help and get her out of bed and into her clothes.)

Mom says that she doesn’t even   remember the drive home.  I had some help from a couple of hospital transporters to get her into the car, but fortunately, she was able to walk once we got back to her apartment.  I was worried about that, since I am not very strong for her to lean on.  She does remember getting back to the apartment and asking me if I would go to the store and buy her some clear liquid food, which the nurse recommended.  So I made sure that she was safely in bed      before I hurried to the store.  I bought chicken broth, Jell-O, and Gatorade.  It seemed to take forever to get through the store.  I hurried back to find her asleep, though she woke up when I started warming up the broth.  I also mixed up some Jell-O and put it in the fridge to set.  I stuck around long enough to make sure she had some broth.  Then she said, “I’ll be okay now.  I think I’ll be sleeping for the rest of the night [it was 6:00 by then], so you can go.  I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow.”           Reluctantly, I left.

I think the biggest thing I learned that day was that the best kind of support you can give someone who is going through an experience like this is to just be there for them.  Try not to vent your own concerns; the day is about them, and they have enough on their minds.  Some people undergoing surgery will want to talk about how worried they are, but some, like my mother, will not want to discuss it, but instead, will want to talk about other things while they wait.  Having somebody there to   listen is what they need.  I had to put her needs above my own worries that day, and she was grateful for it.  She said that one of her friends had   offered to take her to the     hospital that day, but she was glad that I did it, since it was a bit much to ask of an           acquaintance.  This experience helped us to become closer.

Mom is now undergoing       radiation treatments.  She is in the middle of twenty-eight    successive treatments, and will be done within three weeks.