conversations with my mother . . . pie and gum

My mom didn’t go into the rehab center. She’s in the hospital instead. She’s taking diuretics intravenously (80 mg Lasix) and has a catheter. Trying to get that 20 plus pounds of water off. They are trying to figure out the pulmonary hypertension and the heart rate of 120. I just spoke with her and she sounds like she’s running a marathon while she’s talking. MrJAK is not sure she’s going to turn this around. Here is an example of her determination to get better:

Mom: I think they brought me the wrong lunch.

Me: Why?

Mom: I’m supposed to be on a low fat, low sodium, diabetic diet, but they brought me a piece of coconut cream pie and I ate it anyway.

I say nothing. NOTHING. I’ve learned.

Later in the conversation:

Mom: I’m not being a very good patient.

Me: Why?

Mom: I’m kind of high maintenance.

I say nothing. NOTHING. I’ve learned.

Then this:

Mom: I found a red pen in my purse, so I wrote a sign that said, “Please leave door open, I’m claustrophobic.” I hung it on the door with chewing gum.

What do I say about that? You got it.

nothing.

4 thoughts on “conversations with my mother . . . pie and gum

  1. I have been reading this posts and find myself mouth agape at all you are enduring. I’m in awe of your faithful and humorous attitudes and responses. I appreciate your modeling of firm and gracious boundaries.

    This is my “I don’t know what to say” moment. But I’m grateful for your vulnerable sharing.

    Elle – I’m so thankful for my “faithful and humorous attitudes and responses” – they are by the grace of God. For sure. Thank you so much for the affirmation. (by JSM)

    Like

  2. “This is my “I don’t know what to say” moment. But I’m grateful for your vulnerable sharing.”

    I couldn’t have said it better. My mouth was wide open by the end. I’m so proud of you for not saying anything. So proud.

    Like

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