Episode and ER

What a difference a day can make.

I stopped in after their lunch today, around twelve thirty p.m., just to check in and to let them know I was running down town for a hot minute to do some banking and gas up the Jeep. Mom was watching a movie, Dad was down on the computer. Mom seemed her usual drowsy self. I told them I'd be back in an hour or two, and Mom said she couldn't wait for us to get back to "The Secret Garden."

I got back over there in a little over an hour, and soon I took up where I left off in the book from the day before. I read aloud steady to her for about three or four chapters. At the end of the last chapter, I showed her the illustration in the book describing the events in the story. It was a picture of little Mary walking into a dark, forbidden room which contained her sickly cousin, who she was not told about. I ended the chapter which was filled with conversation between the two. Not once in the story, though, was the word "cousin" ever written, nor did Mom and I discuss it after I closed up the book for a rest.

It was ten of three in the afternoon, and she said she wanted to lie down on the couch. I settled her in, and I offered to turn on the television very quietly to help her relax, and she agreed to that. Dad came up and looked in on us. A little conversation ensued, nothing important, then Mom got agitated for no reason. She then begged me to read to her some more from the book.

"Okay," I said, "I'll read one more chapter then."

Dad wandered off again, I shut off the television, and I started up on the new chapter. It went on more about the little sickly boy, Colin, who had had a sheltered, sad life. Within a few paragraphs, without warning, Mom started calling out. I ignored her at first. It seemed as if she was just getting into the story and saying things aloud to the characters. But then it got weird. She started saying things that didn't make sense. I read a little more, but she didn't stop, and when I looked up at her, I saw that she was shaking uncontrollably, her face filled with fear, her eyes closed. She tried to talk, not really to me, just out in the air, but nothing she said made sense. She couldn't even say words.

I quickly put the book down and sat next to her and tried to comfort her, but nothing I said or did helped. I ran downstairs and got Dad.

Together we observed her ranting and panic, her fear and trembling. At one point, Dad mentioned later, she uttered something about "a cousin." Was it related to the story in her mind? I don't know. However, we were failing at calming her down, so Dad decided to call their primary doctor. He got through to the doctor's aid, described the symptoms, and even I was put on the phone with her to give my side of the story. Mom was babbling incoherently and shaking all the while. It was heart wrenching.

When the doctor's aid got back to us after speaking with their doctor, we were told to take Mom into our local emergency room to have her checked out. At one point during the episode, Mom was able to get out "why is this happening, what is happening to me?" so, surprisingly, she did not put up too much of a fuss when we gently told her we were all going to the hospital. There was still a part of her that wanted to understand as much as us.

Was it a stroke? Or a urinary tract infection? Medication side effects? Or simply agitation caused by the disease?

I helped get them off in their car, and then I ran next door and filled in my partner, grabbed my purse and jumped in the Jeep and followed them down to the local hospital. Mom was admitted, and first she was agreeable. As the time went by, however, she became more and more agitated, disorientated and down right ornery. Her agitation peaked during and after her head CT. It as awful hearing Mom screaming out and swearing while the two nurses where in the CT room with her.. their was nothing Dad or I could do to help calm her down.

Her EKG was normal, her blood and urine samples were clear, the head CT showed nothing out of the ordinary, barring the dementia / Alzheimer results. While we waited for results back in the room, Mom was just awful - begging to go, pulling at her wires, screaming aloud, trying to get out the bed. Finally, we got her to calm down, both of us rubbing her and soothing her in anyway that we could.

Luckily, the team at the ER knew we had to get her out of their ASAP (I sure felt bad for the poor patient behind the curtain on the other side of our room!), and as all her stuff checked out, the doctor said the best thing was to just get her home to decrease her agitation. I helped pull off her stickies, the nurse pulled out her I.V., and I got her dressed again. She was wobbly and confused, but she seemed to calm down a lot when I told her we were heading home.

We left after two hours, and I stopped back at their house before I went home to make sure she got settled alright. We plopped her down in her chair and got her a glass of wine. She was able to communicate to us again, with a few exceptions. She remembered what had happened, but could not explain to us why.

Her filters are shutting down, therefor the Id is in full swing. Before I left, she took my hand and wanted to kiss it. Instead, she suckled my knuckles. "Eh, Mom, that's weird! Did you mean to kiss my hand?" She said, "I can't." I showed her how to pucker her lips for a kiss, and she tried to mimic me, but again, she lowered her mouth on to my knuckles and suckled them like a little baby.

She was trying to show me love and appreciation, after all the trauma. I'll take it.