Looks like this might turn into a “My mom has cancer and this is how my life sucks because of it” blog.
So today I walked into the house after meeting the girls at the bus stop at the end of the day to hear a message being left on the house answering machine (yes, we still have one of those!). I heard my mother’s name and was able to grab it in time. It was my mother’s surgeon’s office calling me, because the oxygen company had been to her house earlier and found her in a state of “extreme confusion” and could not even provide the name or number of someone to call. They could tell I lived a few hours away but wondered if there was someone who could check on her.
I called the one friend of hers I have contact information for. Then I called my mom. She didn’t seem confused as much as she sounded frustrated and helpless. She’d had her first chemotherapy treatment earlier in the week and had been feeling relatively OK from that….except for having her oxygen levels quadrupled, morphine based pain pills and, oh yeah, the accidents she reports having “everywhere”.
She was upset that the oxygen man was intimidating her and arguing with her over her oxygen level. She said he wasn’t showing her any respect. I suspect that, while my mom may have in fact been at least partially confused about any number of things, mostly she was in a high state of anxiety which is what really alarmed the oxygen guy.
At one point in the conversation she said, “I know I can’t afford it, but part of me thinks I should just check myself into a nursing home.” This from the woman who has been telling me for YEARS that if she ever needs to go to a nursing home to give her a bottle of pills and a bottle of scotch and she’ll take care of the rest.
So, I need to go check on her again. I cannot keep going to see her every weekend. And yet, I don’t know what to do.