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Happy Valentine�s Day, Diaryland. One of the women in my work area has a stuffed monkey on her desk. It�s dressed in scrubs with a little label that says, "Dr. Love". When you press the guitar in its hands, it plays "Doctor, doctor, gimme the news. I�ve got a bad case of loving you (guitar solo)." By the end of the day, I will have hidden it far out of my hearing range.
Right now, I�m sitting at my desk, waiting for my stepfather to call and let me know my mom�s okay.
It�s 10:24. David told me they�d estimated 10:30 when he asked about when the surgery should be over.
Every time my phone rings, even when it�s obviously an in-house call, I jump. I don�t even want to go use the bathroom. Which is becoming more emergent as time goes on.
I left to go see Mom shortly after I posted yesterday�s entry. When I got to the house, she was sitting on the floor in the kitchen. They�d made her take some kind of Fleet bowel prep stuff to clean out her system, as well as some erythromycin to help ward off possible infection. The Fleet stuff made her sick to her stomach. Adding the antibiotics on an empty stomach (she couldn�t eat after Midnight the night before) didn�t help at all. Shortly after I arrived, she threw up everything she�d taken. I felt so bad for her. She was almost in tears, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with the pill bottle in her hands. She was supposed to take four more over the rest of the day.
We called her doctor�s office and explained that the antibiotic was not a remote possibility. They seemed fine with that. Of course, we didn�t give them a choice, really.
For the rest of the afternoon, she and I talked while I did some laundry for her, stuffed some envelopes, made a few lists for David. He came home and took her to run a couple errands. We didn�t trust her to drive herself.
I left the house at about 9:30. Saying goodbye to her was hard. I can�t shut off the little piece of my head that says I may never see her again.
I know that�s irrational. But knowing and KNOWing are two very different things.
10:40. No call yet.
I hate this.
And there goes the stupid monkey again.
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