May 7th- The Next Part

 

JP & I arrived at Gramma's faster than I've driven there before. 

Looking back, other than Dan's text "reading differently" I had no reason for alarm. Mom had an Infusion Treatment that morning, normal. She was tired, normal. She was in some pain, unfortunately somewhat normal. I think I thought I was there to assist Dan in getting Mom comfortable. Yes, that's what I thought. 

And, the bonus, to see my Mom and sit with her. 

I had to call Dan on his phone to unlock the back door for us (whilst I danced the potty dance). I could hear Mom telling him this was not a good time for me to visit and to send me home. I told him it was too late, I was already there. He agreed and said, "I'm not listening to her, I'm coming to unlock the door." Weird, but we both chuckled awkwardly at ignoring her orders. 

JP remained in the sunroom, I took off to the bathroom and when I emerged she said from down the hall that I shouldn't be there, I shouldn't see her like this. She insisted JP not see her in pain. I told her it was too late for me, JP was in the sunroom, and asked what I needed to do. She was uncomfortable, in pain, couldn't feel her legs or her arms, and said she felt like she was crawling out of her skin. It was heartbreaking. 

Over the next couple of hours Dan and I tried to find her comfort. Between medicine, water, pillows, props, bed raising, bed lowering, moving her legs for her, putting compression socks on, playing classical music, inhaling lavender, screaming, we three tried it all. Even a couple jokes here and there. She was so uncomfortable. She was in so much pain. 

I asked her about going to the hospital. She said there was nothing they could do there for her. I explained that they had more training and resources at their whim and could help. She told me, "only in an ambulance, NOT in any car." I agreed and asked if that meant to call for one now. She said, "not yet." 

She asked me a few more times over those hours to go home. Not nastily, not demanding. More so pleading with me that the kids must need me, or Evans could take me to dinner, or I could go home and relax. I blew her off every time. I ignored it. I wanted to be right where I was. 

We were able to convince her to let Dan call the Doctor at the hospital. The doctor discussed, what seemed to be to them, side effects of the Infusion that morning. They were a little surprised this was the first time she had felt side effects having been her fourth Infusion Treatment. But, nonetheless, they seemed to make it sound like, to our dismay, it was mostly normal. 

At some point, alone in her room with her, I took her hand. She said she could feel warmth but that was all. She asked for lotion. I massaged her hands as much as she could stand until the next bout of severe pain in her legs returned and I switched back to moving them to a folded position again. This leg trick was used every 2-4 minutes that afternoon. 

I held her hand again and placed it to my chest. I asked if she could feel my heartbeat. When she said she could not I told her we weren't going to move her hand around "for the chance of her feeling my boob." She grinned. 

I knelt down beside her bed with her hand to my chest. She looked at me kneeling and said, "OH GOOD! Are you going to Pray? Please Pray." I did just that. 

I had been silently Praying. And at some point in the hallway even sent out a desperate plea on Facebook for Prayers for Relief. I don't remember typing it. 

I laid my head on her bed and choked back tears. She couldn't see me cry. I couldn't let her see me cry. How could I? She was in pain, not me. A short time later she asked that I would leave the room for her to rest. "I can't rest with you in here, Jul." I thought maybe some medicine had kicked in. I obliged and left her room.