Mama Drama never ends. She's 87, her father lived to 104, so 17 more years???
At 730 this morning she calls, says she feels funny. I said what kind of funny? I dunno, just funny. Call the doctor funny? Take you to Urgent Care funny? No. Just funny. *sigh*
After I picked up my grocery order, I headed over and sat with her. All afternoon. I usually head for home about 5, but she asked me to stay. I stayed. I watched her wander the floor and do her sighing moans. She inhales very lightly then let's out an audible sighing moan. At 630 she decided to head for her bed and I left.
Now maybe that sounds cruel, leaving mom to fend for herself. But I'm not a nurse, there's nothing much I can do except sit. She has no temp, her stomach doesn't hurt, she refused to go to urgent care. She's just nauseous.
With her Tramadol, they told her to drink plenty of water. When I got there today, she'd drank about 6 oz from mid morning to 5pm. Not near enough. Then she ate some hash browns she had fried in oil. Shouldn't she avoid those for the time being? I asked. She glared.
I tried talking to her about controlling her body, how she needs to take slow deep breaths, control her breathing to help her relax. I even brought over some CDs, instrumental for relaxing. She tells me she "can't control her breathing, that's just how she is."
She doesn't like my suggestions or advice, but I'm the only one willing to give her attention. I'm trying to let her make her own decisions, but that is soon coming to an end. If we can't get her pain under control, shes going to have to hire a nurse. Someone to look after her in general, someone who controls her meds. It shouldn't be me.
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