Madwoman's Attic: In The Attic

back to (almost) square one

Mom came home from the hospital on Saturday evening.  She checked herself out because the hospital staff refused to treat her pain or listen to what has worked in the past.  Since they've never heard of her condition, it obviously doesn't exist.  Something I find amazing considering the wealth of information found at wikipedia.

Anyway, she is home now and exhibiting signs that the Transverse Myelitis episode (of which this is her fourth, indicating the presence of severe MS) possible caused a small stroke.  As a result, she cannot use the left side of what is remaining of her functioning limbs.  The pain in that side is quite severe, and if it doesn't abate by the latter half of the week, to the hospital in Fresno we go.

But, she's eating like a horse, so I guess that's somethin'. 

In the meantime, I am working from home this week (during the day) and am having what recruits I can find stay with her in the evenings while I am in rehearsal for Last Train to Nibroc

The title of this refers to the fact that once again, as was the case 5 years ago this spring, mom is entirely bed-bound, unable to do very much for herself and entirely dependent.  If the situation cannot improve, we must face the fact that it may be time to put her into convalescence.  Something I do not relish.  In the least. 

Mom Update: Suffering

So, the biggest question issuing forth from my mom's lips in the last two days has been "Why does God want me to suffer so?"

And when she says "suffer", she means SUFFER.  Not "Why does God make me put up with these little annoyances?"  "Why does God inflict this obstacle upon me?"  But suffer-- in the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual sense.  But primarily the physical

Last night at about 10 p.m., some symptoms came forward that were very similar to what occurred when her acute transverse myelitis presented itself the first three time-- which is what made her a paraplegic, raising her paraplegia higher in her spinal chord each time. 

This time, though, since the damage to her spinal chord is slowly getting higher and higher, the pain and dysfunction occured in her breathing and in her heart operation.  She literally thought she was going to die.  And the thought crossed my mind, too. 

And, the fact that the pain from transverse myelitis is almost entirely neurological, there is only so much a traditional opiate treatment can do.  Opiates help manage her pain on a day to day basis, in conjunction with neurological meds originally intended for epilepsy and anxiety. 

So, when the extreme pain of the spinal chord wigging out on her body comes along, most E.R. staff (who have never seen this before) don't understand why 8 mg of morphine isn't knocking her on her ass.  Well, that's because only an antianxiety med (to help the nerve impulses slow down) and a corticosteroid (to slow the inflammation in the spine) will do ANYTHING.

I know this.  But will they listen to me?  No.  I'm just the one who has watched the progression of this disease for six years.  Observed closely the person who has lived with it everyday. 

Anyway, she finally got some relief and what happens?  This afternoon the same sort of neuropathy has presented in her left arm and she is, again, in extreme pain.  Would the floor nurses in the hospital listen to what she had to say about her condition?  No.  They accused her of being drug seeking.  Well, they would be seeking drugs, too, if they knew of the pain she suffers daily.

So now she is home, slightly more comfortable simply for the fact that we can use her regular antianxiety meds to her advantage to make the pain at least tolerable.  And Monday, we will go to a larger hospital where her regular physician will be on duty. 

But right now, she experiences nothing but suffering. . . in the "comfort" of her own bed .

Clear sight?

Anyone else find themselves actually looking through their own eyes a litle more purposefully when they have a couple a drinks in them ?

I have actually stopped by full circle brewing to pick up a bottle of mead and a crawler of sarsaparilla. And so naturally I have bellied up to the bar for a few clusterfuggle ales. As such, i'm actually relaxing, blogging the experience, and looking and hearing a little better (and possibly a little worse) than usual.

If i could stay for the inner ear poetry jam, i would. Arg.

Anyway, i'm feeling pretty good and i thought i would share. I have already twittered twice in the last hour, so i did a traditional blog. I wouldn't want to pull a lance armstrong or john mayer in the tweets department, you know. don't believe me? Look em up! INSANE with the tweets. Lol!

**** Heather Parish Woodward Shakespeare Festival

Overheard in my house. . .

#1:  From me to mom:  "Hey, look at it from my point of view. I deal a lot with your ass!"

#2:  From mom to me:  "Let me attempt to be perfectly clear about this.  I am ALL FUCKED UP!"