Hello boys and girls. I have been spending time doing things other than reading my blog sites and I am so sorry! I need to get caught up, but I need to do laundry worse. I haven’t been here much in the past few days as Henrietta got herself in hospital. OK, really, the ambulance got her there, but still…
About 3:30 Thursday morning she rang the bell and I went in and she was shaking really, really hard. I felt of her and she had no fever so I thought she was surely having a really bad anxiety attack. She has before, so I got her an ativan and gave it to her and told her not to worry she’d feel better soon and she did and fell asleep within about 10 to 15 minutes. I left her bedside table lamp on and went back to bed. Next morning I went in and looked at her and turned off the lamp and tiptoed out. The anxiety attacks really take it out of her, though she doesn’t have them often, so I wasn’t surprised when she slept in late. I went by her room about 11:30 and she was sleeping but the lamp was on. Strange. So she had been up, but why had she turned the lamp on, it’s daylight and there was plenty of light in the room. I walked over and looked at her and fliped off the lamp and opened the blinds a bit and she opened her eyes and looked at me and started trying to talk. It was like something out of a nightmare. I couldn’t make out what she was saying at first, her words were slurred and she couldn’t talk loud enough at all either. I got down and listened and asked her questions and she said things that made no sense at all. So I started calling people and ended with 911. They came and got her and while they were here assessing her, the hot, young cutie that was doing most of the talking said that yes, she could be having a stroke, but the fact that I was treating her for yet another UTI, (urinary tract infection), told him that she could possibly be septic and the symptoms mimic those of a stroke very closely. I, personally, thought it wasn’t possible, just because her previous UTI had gotten much worse than this one. With this one she didn’t even have any symptoms. I would have never known she had one without the urinalysis they did as a follow up from the previous UTI. In hind site I can see that it was all the same one and the antibiotics from the first one didn’t completely get rid of it.
So H gets hauled off to the hospital and I went with her. My friend, Lisa followed in her car. This was about noon and she went straight to an ER room and stayed there for a few hours and was put in a room by about 9:30. They have, by now run every test under the sun and determined that:
A) She freaks out when in the MRI machine.
B) She did not have a stroke.
C) “She’s a pistol.”
D) When she misses her dose of Miralax she can’t poo.
E) When she gets two doses of Miralax too close together she has diarrhea.
F) When I find out they are running all kinds of stupid tests that don’t make a hill of beans difference, just stress her out, I get pissed off.
G) When I call and have them leave a note on her chart for the Dr. to call me, I mean it and will call and chew out everybody else in the nurse’s station if he doesn’t. (He makes rounds at 6:00AM.)
The night before she had these problems at home, when I changed her diaper and put her to bed, I noticed she had a strange line of diaper rash kinda down on her thigh a little bit. I was telling Lisa about it in the hospital after we got her in a room. I looked down at H and asked her if she’d mind if I showed Lisa her diaper rash. (At this point I should point out that Lisa’s mom died of multiplemyloma and Lisa took care of her up until her death, so she knows at least some, and usually a lot, about every aspect of care giving.) Immediately after I asked her if she’d mind me showing Lisa her rash, without pausing, she looked at Lisa, pulled a deadpan face, and said, “It’ll cost you $20.00.” Lightning fast wit, that one. The nurse came in and she looked at her and said “It’ll cost you 20, too!” She died laughing and we were all giggling uncontrollably. She also told us to tell the EMT that she’s single. My gawd, I’ve got to watch her like a hawk!
H) She charges for a peek at her hooch.