Moods and doubts

The ordeal of the hospital looks like it's nearing an end and finally we are discharged and can bring the mother home. What perils await us is yet to be seen. Should we take her home in a stretcher or in a car. Without the aid of a lift who will carry her up the stairs....how will we keep her comfortable without the aid of a reclining bed....questions questions and hundreds of doubts....will we know what to do will we hold it all together...doubts like little serpents cream around the mind,digging little holes in my brains....the tower of strength is the husband...standing in the wings,he will jump to find solutions and good ones at that....soon her has found a boy young and strong enough to carry my mother up the stairs.... He gets my mother into the car and home....the first of the psychological battles is won...

There is something about being in ones own bed that can make all the difference.. I have cleaned the room to an inch of its life and the mother is soon settled in and made comfortable. The calm and collected doctor has given us all the pressure points to look out for. Mood swings,depression,anger,euphoria the works. She tells us we need to care for her ourselves,no hired help she says and I agree.

It's three days now and while the mother is motivated enough to do her exercises and makes attempts to work and keep her limbs in working condition,she is quick to worry,can get frustrated fast and agitation is something I would like to keep at bay. 

Furious she is when her alarm doesn't go off,she isn't happy with my rationing of her salt. Strict orders of three grams of salt (the amount allowed by the doctor) haunt me and my meals have become so salt less that they tend to loose their flavour....cooking for the entire family then is funny. More often than not I have forgotten to season with salt and when members of the family reach for pickles it strikes me that I ve forgotten the salt. Strangely I don't miss it too much thought the mother grumbles constantly. I am turning into a food nazi but I have been so frightened it's expected to err on the side of caution.

Meanwhile we take turns to keep watch over our precious cargo and spend sleepless nights and sleep filled days and count our blessings and do the best we can.

Every morning is a challenge and every night so far,one of thanksgiving.

August...come she must

August,half way through the year and not a happy month at all. The first week is a mad rush to get the mother tested and checked for all parameters and I heave a sigh of relief when it's an all clear. The. It's time to go for a wedding out of town. Travelling after eight months can be a daunting task but it's managed and it's good to meet the rest of the family and attend all the functions associated with weddings. Sometimes stressful but not all bad,we are so busy that one doesn't realise how ten days pass. Back home everything seems under control and life continues as usual. I meet my friends at a wedding and we all have a good time but the fun ends right there.

It's a normal day and everything goes as routine until midnight. The mother develops breathing problems and we rush her to a hospital and into the intensive care unit. From there onwards it's a nightmare . Everything swirling out of control. No end in sight,the mothers spirits sagging and the rest of us in a state of anxiety and despair. It's slow progress,with everyday being a new challenge. The doctors speak in different voices. One is the optimist ,she is always looking at the bright side and insists that progress is good. The junior doctors don't say much but the specialist doesn't give us much hope. Going home seems like a distant dream,recovery seems like a distant dream,quality of life seems like a thing of the past.

We end August awake in a hospital room,watching over the mother,the silence of the night broken only by the beep of machines recording pulse rates and breath levels.

As September is already on us,the vigil continues and only time will tell what the new month holds for us.