Today was tough.
I talked with my mom this morning, following up with her about a doctor appointment she had yesterday afternoon. Among other things, she said that she still has an infection in her lungs, and that the doctor prescribed the same antibiotic as a couple of weeks ago.
The same one that made her vomit around the clock for the seven days she was on it. (Which she didn’t tell me about until day six.)
My thoughts were:
a) She would not be getting the medication she needs if she pukes it up.
b) She’d lose MORE weight (she’s already the thinnest I can ever remember, going back to my childhood).
c) There are MULTITUDES of other antibiotics out there that would likely do the trick.
d) As she’s recovering from extensive blood clots, pulmonary emboli, pneumonia, a trip to the ER and a 3-day stay in the hospital, well, she doesn’t need an additional seven days of unnecessary illness; she needs to be strong in order to recover.
Her thoughts were:
“Well, the doctor is the expert. If that’s the medicine she thinks I need to take in order to recover, I’ll just have to tough it out.”
I proceeded to get probably more upset with my mom than I have in as long as I can remember. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t say something to the doctor! I don’t know why she didn’t advocate for herself! And there she was, as we spoke: On one hand, she was completely planning on taking the antibiotic. On the other hand, it was there, sitting on her desk, staring at her, and she was dragging her feet to start the round of medication because she knew it would make her so ill.
I asked for her doctor’s number. She said, “Well, if you’re going to harangue someone, I’d rather have it be them than me.” I apologized. 😦
I did call the doctor. About 20 times.
The office, which has short hours on Fridays, had a meeting of some sort that lasted the entire 3½ hours that they were supposed to be open. On about the 20th time calling, I finally left a message with the answering service, not all that hopeful of a return call, but feeling somewhat desperate, because I didn’t think it could wait until Monday.
The doctor called me about 10 minutes later. Bless God. It turns out that my mom had already put me in her HIPAA as someone to whom information could be released. The doctor was very kind and accommodating, and confirmed that she would never have prescribed that antibiotic if she would have known that it made my mom so ill. I also asked how it could be that my mom could still have a “lung infection” yet not have pneumonia, which was my mom’s impression of the state of her health. Mom was mistaken. She does still have pneumonia.
The doc wrote up a new prescription. I put Fiala down for a nap, sent Wesley to a quiet time, put Ethan in charge, and took Audrey and Grant with me in the truck. I drove to the doctor’s office, knocked on the back door, and collected the rx, along with the doctor’s suggestion that perhaps I should accompany my mom to future doctor’s visits (I agreed). I drove to my mom’s to pick up the “bad” prescription, in hopes that the pharmacy would accept it as a return and refund the $40 copay. Drove to the pharmacy, asked in vain for a refund for the other prescription, and waited for the new one. Thankfully, it was only $5. Five bucks. For generic Bactrim, which is very easy on the stomach. (Makes me cynically wonder if the doctor has an agreement with the other name-brand antibiotic’s drug rep or something — why didn’t they prescribe a generic in the first place???)
So, now my mom is on Bactrim. And back on oxygen full-time, 24/7. At least, she’s supposed to be. Both times today I stopped into her home, she did NOT have the oxygen on. Well, the machine was on, but it was not on her.
Throw into the above a hellish 1½ trip to Walmart (which I hate) in which all five of the kids had rotten behavior — for only which Fiala was excused. And, picking up a present I had ordered for some friends who are to be married tomorrow. And a haircut (FINALLY) for Wesley.
Then, my hubby suggested we pick up some wings for the kids. I thought that was a fabulous idea. (He went to the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner tonight, but he managed to “snack” on a dozen wings before he left 😀 ) As I was fixing Fiala’s lamb-burger, she could smell the mild and BBQ wings, and kept saying, with increasing volume and interest, “Mmmmmmmmmm. MMMMmmmmm. MMMMMMMMMMMmmm.” I caved. I rinsed off the BBQ sauce, and gave her a wing to gnaw on. Then a second. By the end of the 2nd one, she was absolutely clawing at her face, and she was red everywhere — cheeks, around her eyes, around the eczema lesions she already has.
Now, it’s 7:30. I’m going to get the girls in bed, let the boys watch a bit of TV (How It’s Made), and finally dust the front room so that I can feel good about FINALLY decorating for Christmas and maybe even getting the tree up.
I feel tightly wound up. And a bit sad. And more than a bit frustrated. 😦
Sorry for whining. I did just want to WRITE this, plus, at times, I feel like my blog — because I want to be careful not to complain — ends up appearing as The Best of My Life, rather than my real life. It’s a delicate balance.