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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.

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