Lightweight

Thanks very much for all your kind comments and well-wishes for my mom’s recovery. She’s back at our house now and doing much better. I told her if she wanted to extend her stay with us, surely there was a less dramatic way????

My mother is perhaps the biggest lightweight on the planet. It’s a good thing she doesn’t drink, or she’d have permanent brain damage from all the times she most likely would have fallen under the table. Aspirin puts her to sleep --- and sinus medicine? Into a coma. I’m not even overstating it.

I’ve never had kidney stones, so I can’t speak from experience about how much it hurts. But judging by the comments people have left on this site, and the personal stories I’ve been told, and the way my mother was behaving in the emergency room, I assume the pain of trying to pass a kidney stone must be on par with the agony of having hot lava poured through your nostrils. Hot lava mixed with nails and paint thinner. I’ve never seen my mother in that much pain, and I was never so glad in my entire life to see a nurse show up with pain medicine.** I think that even includes the time I almost delivered a 10+ pound baby sunny side up with no epidural.

I know they gave her a lot of stuff … Demerol, Phenergan, Toradol, and a few other things thrown in for good measure. I lost track. In between the whimpering and moaning and rocking on all fours and crying, she kept insisting, over and over, that she either needed to have her appendix cut out, immediately, or she was having a baby. The doctor ordered the meds pretty quickly, either because he could tell her level of pain was high, or because he didn’t want to be around to witness the birth. At one point, I turned to the nurse and asked if it was common for kidney stones to cause delirium, and she said actually, it wasn’t uncommon. My mom is normally a pretty stoic gal, but I guess it really hurts that stinking bad.

Once the meds kicked in, though, and her pain was better controlled, a whole ‘nother problem emerged. The fact that my mother is a complete lightweight and can’t handle her narcotics. She never got mean, or ugly, or nasty. She just completely lost her mind and couldn’t remember a damn thing.

This is the conversation we had, at least (and I am totally NOT exaggerating) a hundred times the other night between the hours of 10pm and 2am:

Betty, looking around the room in confusion: Where are we?

Kristie, patient for the first fifty times but then rolling her eyes a lot after that: We’re in the ER, mom.

B: How did we get here?

K: I drove you in my van.

B: You did? I don’t remember that.

K: Yes I did.

B: Why?

K: It seemed easier than calling an ambulance.

B: But why am I here?

K: Your side was hurting you.

B: It was? I don’t remember that.

{pause}

B: Well how did I get in this room?

K: The {rude, ill-mannered, I-will-punch-him-in-the-neck-if-I-ever-see-him-again} ER tech brought you in a wheelchair.

B: I don’t remember that. I didn’t ride in a wheelchair.

K: Yes you did.

B: Why am I here?

K: They think you have a kidney stone.

B: A kidney stone? I don’t have time for that.

K: Well, we won’t know for sure until we get the results of your cat scan.

B: I had a cat scan?

K: Yes

B: When?

K: About half an hour ago.

B: Where was I?

K: Lying on a table, I assume.

B: No I didn’t.

{Pause for a few seconds while she would gaze around the room.}

B, panicked: Where are the kids?

K: They’re at home with Blaine.

B: What time is it?

K: It’s 11.

B: At NIGHT?!?!?

K: Yes, mom. 11 at night.

B: How long have I been here?

K: About three hours.

B: Three hours?!? Why am I here?

K: They think you have a kidney stone.

B: Well, it's late. You need to go home.

K: I think I’ll stay here for a while. I want to get your test results. {I never had any intention, whatsoever, of leaving her, but couldn’t persuade her to listen to me.}

B: I had a test?

K: Yes, mom, you had a cat scan.

B: When?

K: About {Five minutes later than the last time you asked me} ago.

B: Why?

K: They think you have a kidney stone.

B: I can’t have a kidney stone. Those hurt. I haven’t had any pain.

{pause}

B: Where am I?

I swear, it was like talking to Ten-Second Tom from Fifty First Dates. At first it was bizarre, then it was annoying, then it got funny and I started giggling, at which point she got mad and told me to quit laughing at her. Which, naturally, made me laugh more. Because I’m supportive like that.

She still doesn’t remember going to the hospital, being in the ER, having the cat scan, being moved to a bed, or being in any pain, although she does at least believe me now and doesn’t question me a thousand times about it.

Which leads ME to believe, we should ALL have some of those drugs.

**That’s not exactly true. The night, two years ago, when Kendrie was in the hospital and her bone marrow was recovering from a bad virus, and she was literally screaming in the hospital bed and clutching her legs, and it took every ounce of control I had not to burst into hysterics because I just knew her cancer had returned ……… THAT was the time in my life I was most glad for pain relief medication. But on Wednesday night, my mom ran a close second. Big-giant watermelon-head baby gets pushed to third.