Ha. Yes, well.
Hubs and I were driving to Memphis last Friday, and at pretty much the halfway point (east of Crossville), a nurse from his mother’s assisted living called: she’d fallen and was on her way to hospital. So we turned around and went back. She fractured her pelvis (not her hip, thank God) but didn’t need surgery. I flew to Memphis and stayed Sat-Tues, did her (my mother’s) taxes, yard work, cooking, etc. and flew home.
Hubs stayed in Asheville with his mom, who oddly, fell in love with her hospital room (“It’s so much bigger!”) and her nurses. Somehow the case manager bobbled the discharge planning, even though she was ready to go to skilled rehab Tuesday, but they finally told us yesterday afternoon (Friday) that she would be discharged this morning. Yay, right?
So my phone rings at 4 a.m. today: it’s my mom, and she fell in the bathroom, and her hip is excruciatingly painful, and can I come. (Well, of course.) No flights, so I’m on the road at quarter of five. I had called Memphis Fire Rescue (because 911 is useless on mobile from another city), and off to the ED she goes. Neighbors woke up and followed the ambulance, while I talked to ED nursing staff, because hey, she’s on anticoagulants.
Amazingly (thank God again), she didn’t break anything including her hip, and no brain bleed, and discharged home, but sore as hell, turning into one massive bruise, and now having back spasms. So four days after leaving Memphis, I’m back again, helping her change position, use the toilet, change clothes, and all.
Hubs and I are both honored and grateful that we can be there for our moms, but we’re beginning to think that they’re in a competition to see who can turn us greyer first.
—oh, and MIL likes her skilled rehab (nursing home) even better than the hospital, because her room there is even bigger still!