Showing posts with label Dancing Dieter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dancing Dieter. Show all posts

Our Little MaMa

Just an update on Mom. Sorry I haven't had time to e-mail or blog this past week. I've spent most every minute over at Mom's after work. She's had a rough week. She's in a lot of pain. The hospice doctor came out to check her today and thinks that maybe she has pleurisy. She's going to increase her Prednisone tomorrow to 5 pills a day for a few days and then cut back as well as increasing her 12 hr. long acting Morphine Sulphate in the morning. That should give her body a jump start and hopefully give her some release from the pain. It's so hard watching her suffer. She's not ready to give up just yet, but if the pain doesn't subside soon she'll probably let go. She doesn't have the death look in her eyes yet, and she still has a lot of fight in her. She hasn't lost any more weight so that's a good sign. She manages to drink Ensure in the day and maybe just a few bites of dinner in the evening.

She's usually pretty good just sitting in her easy chair, but when she has to get up and go to the bathroom or kitchen for her treatments the pain is pretty severe.

I don't have a lot of paid time out hours to use to stay home from work, so Lindsey and Ginger are going to help out next week. They are going to take turns being with Mom and Dad during the day and then I can be with them in the evenings. Ging and Linz, it would probably help if you brought her nebulizer to her in the easy chair to take her treatments. She insists on walking out to the kitchen for her treatments and it's hard on her.

I've found that the best way to try and take care of them is to put something in the crockpot in the morning before work and then when I get home I just take the food over to their house and prepare everything and we all eat together. That way I can do up the dishes over there and not have to worry about cleaning two kitchens. (Her kitchen is cleaner than mine this evening, however!) I do have to re-wash the dishes and utensils that Dad washes in the day. I don't think he sees too well. :)

I'll try and keep you all posted as best I can on her condition.

O.K. ... on to a lighter note. I'm not sure how to describe this experience but I'm sure I'm not alone. I put off my yearly physical exam for about four years and then decide that it's time to have it done. You know the drill ... calling the receptionist for an appointment. "Hello, this is Linda H. calling to make an appointment to see Dr. Daynes." The nice sounding receptionist says, "What seems to be the problem?" I say, "Oh ... no problem, just need to schedule a physical." She says,"O.K. then. How about Tuesday at 8:00 in the morning?" I say, "That would be terrific!" Then the dreaded question comes next, "Would you like a pap smear?" I hesitate and then say, "No, I don't want a pap smear!" She hesitates and then says, "Let me re-phrase that question. Do you NEED a pap smear?" In a small, timid voice I reply, "Yessss, probably ... but I don't WANT one!" She then says, "I'll put a question mark on your chart whether you want to have a pap smear or not. Just remember, no eating or drinking after midnight the night before the physical.

The dreaded day arrives. I'm nervous. In fact, I've been nervous ever since I made the appointment. Why do I dread this? Am I the only female in the world that hates the dreaded physical worse than anyone else? Perhaps it's because I'm a fatty pants and I'm embarrassed by my folds and flabs of fat. No, wait ... I know what it is. It's the dreaded paper gown. Yes, you heard me right - a paper gown!

I arrive at the Doctor's office and am ushered into the examining room and told politely to take off all of my clothes and put on the gown with the opening in the front. Then she hands me the dreaded gown along with a paper covering the size of a table napkin. "You can use this to place over your lap", she says. "Yeah, right" I think silently to myself.

She closes the door and I undress quickly, afraid that either the Dr. or her will open the door while I'm bending over with my bare behind in the air trying to step out of my black undahwehs. But never fear ... no one EVER enters the examing room for at least an hour, after I've undressed, and am sitting in my little paper gown, which by the way was made for a Barbie doll, with my little napkin spread lady- like over my knees.

Hmmm ... nothing to do ... nothing to read but medical phamplets in the slots on the wall. I know, I'll look at these medical drawings. Interesting read! As the time slowly passes, the wall heater turns on and blows continuous hot air into the room that's about the size of my shower. You got it ... you know where I'm going. I start to sweat and the paper gown begins to discinigrate right before my eyes. There's not much paper left under my arms and the crotch area now has a large gaping hole. And to make matters more embarrasing, the paper cover that I'm sitting on has now found it's way between my butt cheeks. Now ... I'll pose this question. When it comes time for me to slide to the end of the table and put my feet into the dreaded stirrups, how am I going to slide with the paper table lining crammed between my cheeks? And what will the Dr. find during the exam? Quickly I peel myself up from the paper liner, step off the table, hoping the door won't open just yet, pick the paper from my bum, and refresh the table with a new piece of paper.

Now, I'm not only hot and sweaty, but because I'm nervous my limbs have turned an ugly purple. My feet look disgusting. Why didn't I get a pedicure before coming? I hope he doesn't have to touch my feet.

He enters. So far so good. Not too bad. I'm able to cover the gaping holes in my gown with my hands and clasp the paper around me. As I lay back on the table while he puts a miner's light on his head, I almost laugh! In fact I tell him that he really should have a TV in his ceiling to help take my mind off this part of the exam. He nervously chuckles! He doesn't have much of a bed side manner.

A few minutes later ... all is well, the exam is over. My dignity is restored until the Doctor asks, "Have you had a colonoscopy?" "Why yes" I answered. "How long ago?" "Oh ... about 7 years ago." "Would you like to have one done?" he asks. My reply is rather sarcastic, "No. Do YOU want one?" He laughs. I'm told to dress and the nurse will be back with two procedures that he wants me to have done ... a COLONOSCOPY and a MAMMOGRAM! As the nurse hands me the phone numbers to call and schedule the procedures, I tuck them deep into my purse and know that I WON'T schedule that colonoscopy for at least another three years. I've had that procedure and I think it's worse than what I just endured. Oh well ... look at it this way ... where I go, they have cloth gowns for the colonoscopy!