My poor sainted mother!
So, following the loose screw issue she had a second foot surgery. The doctors gave her more lovely medicine and though she was having some pain in her foot, it wasn’t unbearable.
What was unbearable was the severe abdominal pain.
I got a phone call Tuesday afternoon.
Mom: Hi, EEE. Now, I don’t want you to worry…*
*This is the second time in recent months my mother has used this particular phrase.
Note to parents, children, loved-ones everywhere: there is no better way to ensure that someone is going to worry than by telling them not to. It’s like saying “Don’t look down.”
Turns out my poor mother has been having ever worsening abdominal pain ever since her first surgery. As someone who suffered fairly stoically through 35 years of debilitating periods, when my mother said her stomach hurt, she meant it.
My father called her doctor who admitted her to the hospital overnight for observation and then tests.
The most annoying part of all of this, though, is the manner in which the follow-up phone call was handled.
Jo: Have you talked to Dad?
Me: Hello to you, too.
Jo: Hi. Did Dad call you?
Me: No. What’s going on?
Jo: Figures. He called Dave.
(Buh? Dave? The incredible disappearing man? The one who won’t return your phone calls unless you owe him money? I don’t think he even HAS my phone number. What was Dad thinking?)
Me: That makes no sense.
Jo: I know.
Jo: They know what’s wrong with Mom.
Me: And…? What is it?
Jo: Well you know that they made her do a CT scan this morning and then…. Blah blah blah…. (Jo loves to draw out a story before finally coming to the point…)
Long story short: Her CT scan revealed nothing, so the doctors did an Upper-GI scope and found that my poor mother has stomach ulcers!!! Three of them!
On the one hand: how horrible! On the other: thank goodness it’s something definitive and treatable!
I spoke to Mom a few minutes ago and she’s home and while she’s in some discomfort, she’s feeling pretty good. She’s not terribly happy about having to drink the Ultra-Chalky-Super-Pasty-Max-Peptic-Antacid, but her tummy feels better.
I love you, Mom! Feel better soon and make sure Dad takes good care of you!!!