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Sunday, June 15, 2008

Mama, Can You Hear Me?

Yes, I'm pretty late this weekend with this post. I've known what I wanted to write this time, but I put it off intentionally for as long as I could. I want to warn you, I get very serious here, but this is something that I really wanted to get out of my system. Really, it's something I need to get out of my system. Basically, my mother tried to die on me this week. Again. So if you aren't scared off by seriousness or life-or-death situations, click on through.

A little over two years ago, I came home for my birthday, which happened to fall on a weekend that year. At the time, I was living across the state and didn’t really make it home all that much. Anyway, one day while I was there, I went to wake my mother because she had an appointment that afternoon, and she had gone to lie down for a while. I entered her room, and she was lying across the bed with her feet on the floor, which I thought was a little weird. When I went to rouse her, it became apparent that something was wrong. At first, I thought the way that she was talking (or was trying to talk) was a symptom of her drowsiness upon waking. Soon, however, it was evident that something more was happening. Her eyes were wide and looking around like she was lost. She kept trying to speak and her words were very slurred. I kept asking her if she was okay and she wasn’t really responding to what I was saying. She has diabetes and I figured that something must be wrong with her blood sugar, although other explanations such as a stroke or worse flitted through my mind.

Right when I was about to freak out, the telephone rang and the caller ID said that it was my aunt. I answered and she asked how things were going. In a very shaky voice, I told her that they weren’t going too well. She recognized that there was something wrong in my voice, and asked what was going on. When I told her what my mother was doing, she told me to hang up and call 911 and that she would be on her way.

Upon hanging up, I dialed 911. They asked their questions, which I answered the best that I could. Honestly, most of that call is a blur. I then realized that the paramedics would most likely be coming to the front door. We don’t really use the front door at my mother’s house. Everyone uses the side door at the carport. While going to the front door, I had to stumble my way over the carpet lying in the living room. My mother was doing some renovating and the carpet had been taken up in the room. Its intended replacement was lying in a large roll in the middle of the room directly in the walkway from the front door. I knew I’d have to move that. I went to the front door and unlocked and opened it, and then unlocked the screen door outside of it. I then moved the carpet to the other side of the room. I then went back to my mother, who had begun to foam at the mouth somewhat.

My other aunt then arrived, informing me that the first aunt had called her. Soon after, the paramedics arrived. They seemed to be moving in slow motion while unloading. They made their way inside asking questions, which my aunt and I tried to answer to the best of our ability. The aunt who had called then showed up at the door and then my uncle, who she had also called. The paramedics tested her blood sugar, which was low. They stuck her with an IV and began to administer some solution. When my mother came back to consciousness, she looked around at all the people around her bed and asked, “What’s going on?”

A paramedic said that she would have been dead within half an hour. If she hadn’t had the appointment, or if I hadn’t been there, she would have died. A short time later, I moved back to my hometown and that had a lot to do with it. Other than having to rush her to the emergency room for what turned out to be pneumonia, there were no more scares like that. Until this week.

I was at my mother’s house Wednesday morning and found her in her bed with her arm in the air in a very odd position. I asked her what she was doing, and she didn’t reply. I walked into her room and approached her bed, where it became clear that something was once again wrong. She was lying in the middle of a huge wet spot in her bed, which outlined her body. She was sweating profusely and her eyes were wide open and searching again. Recognizing these symptoms, I quickly got some juice and made her drink. While doing this, the phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I could see that it was the same aunt that called the first time. This time, however, I didn’t answer. My aunt had recently been diagnosed with liver cancer, which is probably terminal. She had been in and out of the hospital in the past few weeks and the last thing she needed was any more stress.

Once the phone stopped ringing, I picked it up and dialed 911 once again. I gave the details they requested and hung up. Once again, I ran to unlock and open the front door. The phone rang again and it was a close friend of ours. I answered and she asked me what was happening. Her daughter is an emergency dispatcher and called her when she saw the address pop up. I told her the situation and she said she was on her way, and we hung up. While I was waiting for the ambulance, she arrived. I then continued to wait for the ambulance, which seemed to be taking forever this time. I waited and then waited some more. Finally, I decided to get her testing materials together and test her myself to see how bad the situation was. While gathering the things, I heard a siren. I ran to the door and in a few seconds, the ambulance came into view. Once again, the paramedics came into my mother’s home and saved her life. Once again, she came back to consciousness not having any idea what was occurring. Once again, my mother was alive because I happened to be there at the right time.

I can’t even describe what it feels like to see my mother like that. Okay, I probably can, but, honestly, I don’t really want to. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know that one day I might not be around at the right time. So I stay. And I watch. And I fear.

Recommended Song Download: Stamp Your Feet - Donna Summer

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