Yesterday at 11 PM I knew that Medicare existed.
Today at daybreak I knew more than I ever wanted to know about Medicare, Medicaid, Medigap, Social Security, and on and on. With a good understanding of mom’s situation, and since I remembered she told me she didn’t want me there for radiation therapy, I figured I could sleep until 8, so I packed it in at 6.
Nineteen minutes later the phone rang. “What time will you be here?”
Radiation is at 7. I got up, cleaned up in a hurry, and stumbled out the door.
It’s a sad thing when you find yourself outside a door with a deadbolt, worrying that you’ve just locked yourself out of the house without your keys so that you’re unable to lock the door. Eventually I did figure out that if I can’t lock the door, I’m not actually locked out. And I had the keys anyway. I CAN function with no sleep, but no sleep and no coffee is a deadly combination.
To mom’s, to the hospital, then to breakfast where she ate half of a one-egg breakfast, and proudly showed me her weight recorded on her calendar. She’s lost nine pounds since her last weigh-in last week.
I don’t think I’ve wasted less than ten thousand words on her, explaining why food is so important and what foods she needs to be eating. I’m done.
I spoke with dad. Everything I learned last night he already knew, and he explained it all to her on Saturday. Mom never told me that, and I wasn’t going to call him at midnight to ask. “I did all that research last night for nothing?” I asked. “Yep,” he said.
Then to the surgeon, to have the sutures removed from her chest where the port was inserted. “That’s it,” I told her. “I’ve helped you get through at least one of every new procedure. Everything from here on is old hat.”
I’ve done everything within my power. I don’t know what else I can do.
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