So today there’s nothing erudite, nothing whimsical or insightful. Today is about the fact that I want to scream and cry and yell and vent and I can’t because Wildie is cool, calm and collected.
My mom is 83 and had a full hip replacement on Monday morning –
Monday evening she was fine, talking and lucid –
Last night she was irrational, delusional and confused –
At midnight she phoned my dad from the hospital to tell him she was being kidnapped, she wasn’t – just out of it
My Dad phoned me at 12.15am – his lack of saying said so much – Wildie I need you to fix this, how dad?
The hospital phoned me at 1am to say he was with her and they had given her something to calm her down – he stayed with her until 4am when she fell asleep – she didn’t really recognise him terribly well.
I think I closed my eyes – somewhere between 2 and 4 – hopefully
He phoned me at 6am – in tears – what if she doesn’t come right, what do we do then – I don’t know dad, I can’t fix this one.
8am – she’s much improved, concoction of medicines and anasthetic fighting amongst themselves – dad is smiling though the phone. I’m relieved but will make my own assessment later.
I wanted to collapse last night, I wanted to panic and cry and be a girl and say “Fictitious Someone, you sort it out, you make it right” but you can’t.
My personal descriptive phrase today – road kill.
PS: Yes, I do know I’m whinging – your perceptive observation is immensely appreciated!
PPS: Yes, I know I’m not being nice – it happens.
PPPS: I just realised I have pretty much re-written my own “wearing your game face” post of a some days ago – fabulous, now my own grey matter is turning to sludge – what a horse’s patootey!