Mom has pneumonia. Again. This is the third time and the second time that she has been hospitalized. And I just have to say it, having her hospitalized is more tiring than having her home.
Every doctor that comes in contact with her asks me the exact same questions over and over. I want to place a sign on my forehead that says, "Read her chart!" I could understand the curiosity if it was something that wasn't there. But, calling me a 4:00 am to find out what medications she's on (that are listed in her chart) seems a little ridiculous to me. Just a little.
And each doctor has a different answer for my questions. One in particular is "Does she have Congestive Heart Failure?" I have received these answers, "Yes. It was diagnosed during her stay in November.", "No.",
"I don't know.", "I haven't researched it." "With the instructions to not extend her life with any extra measures, it isn't important at this stage.", and, "Yes, she does." Well, as long as we can all agree.
But, one of the good things that I've found in all of this is my compassion. It would be very difficult to see anyone lying in a twisted fetal position and sobbing and not feel at least a twinge. When it's my mother, it breaks my heart. I tried to talk to her while holding her hand as much as possible, but she kept clawing at me and twisting my fingers until I had to pry my hands away and tell her that she was hurting me. I cannot even imagine what is going on in her mind. It must be horrendous. I know it is devastating to watch.
The next step is to find a place for her that will help her find comfort and some peace. I am content with the decision to allow others to care for her because I cannot.