Eleven days ago, Mom had surgery to repair her broken arm. She did very well.
Six days later, the doc heard some rumbling in her lungs and ordered an X-ray. The pneumonia was back.
Mom started Levaquin, which upset her stomach all over again, so they switched her to Avelox. So far, so good - no tummy rebellion.
Two days later, her ankles began to swell. The wonderful Dr. R. saw her yesterday afternoon and ordered an ultrasound to rule out blood clots. Here he is taking in Mom's update.
She had some instructions for him.
Three hours later, Life Care called to say Mom's ultrasound was positive for a DVT, and they had called for a transport (which would take about 45 minutes to arrive) to take her to the hospital.
When I arrived at Life Care, it was 9:30 p.m. and the halls were dim and quiet. Mom told me her leg was bothering her when she moved it, but if she was still, she was able to doze.
While we waited for the transport, I strolled the subdued hallways and nibbled on a mini-pak of Oreos from the snack cart. I also noticed the name plates outside the rooms of other patients.
On my third lap, I took my camera along. Some names surely had a story or two. If only in my mind.
(Some pictures were auto-corrected due to the dark, spooky hallways. First names were removed to protect the sleeping.)
Imagine being five, and your last name is the same as your favorite building block. I bet this kid was the coolest guy on the block. Pun intended.
As opposed to this kid...
He probably hated his name. CLAW-witter? or CLAY-witter? Clay-water. Fly-swatter. You could play with this one.
And this one...
Boos, as in CA-boose. Or Boos, as in booze. Or boo-boos. Or boo-hoos. I can only imagine.
Here's a great name...
When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie...that's amore. Name that song.
Here's a name that makes me want to meet the patient and see if she's related to Renee...
Even if she's not, she might think she is.
Here are two names on opposite ends of the spectrum...in the same room.
That's Kornrump. With an 'f.' Which seems completely superfluous.
I looked it up. The name originated from the German occupation of weighing grain. A korn rumpf is the wooden tunnel of a mill where the grain (korn) is placed before being ground by the millstone. The name dates back to 1470.
There's your history lesson for the day. It might be helpful if you're ever on Jeopardy.
Jones means "son of John." Just to be fair.
After roaming the halls for over an hour, this next name spoke to me. Nothing in a hospital or rehab center ever happens like this...
If this were my name, as a kid, I would have adopted the nickname "Nestle," as in Nestle's Quick. Choooooc-late.
And the best of the bunch...
A perfect last name.
My name-game musings ended when the transport team finally arrived.
Two kind men named Nathan and Isaiah moved Mom from Life Care to the ER next door.
An hour later, she was in a room, getting an IV. Mom was admitted and placed on blood thinners, Coumadin and Heparin, to be exact.
I left about 2 a.m., once mom was again ready to doze, and I was told no more news would be forthcoming until tomorrow...
It's now tomorrow.
Dad and I visited Mom, who looked pretty good. She is, however, discouraged to hear that she must stay in bed for a few days. She must not instigate any movement that will cause a quick surge of blood.
Like arm-wrestling, or jumping-jacks, which she's fine taking a break from.
She would like to move to the potty chair when needed, but that's prohibited as well. Which she's not pleased about. Hopefully the blood thinners will work their magic soon.
In the meantime, Dad and I are enjoying the hospital cafe soup once again.
Curry Rice and Lentil. My favorite.
Dad likes Tomato Bisque. Or Broccoli Cheddar.
More updates as they up come...