Daddy called me last night (this morning) at 1:05 a.m, very upset. Mama was having terrible pain in her right side, bloody urine, and they were at the ER. I knew that if he called me, he wanted me there, even tho' he didn't come right out and say so. I rushed up there and found her in the waiting room, moaning and groaning like a woman with contractions.
"OH, dear Jesus, help me... Praise you, Father... Oh, my goodness...."She had been triaged, but there were no rooms available in the ER. So there she sat. I put my head on her shoulder, and when I took it away, she said, "Oh, I liked it there." Back it went. I had my Bible with me and asked what psalm she wanted to hear and she said 145. It seemed to alleviate pain to hear scripture read aloud. I apologized with a laugh that the enchiladas I made them last night had probably brought on the nausea. "If I had known my meal would do this to ya, Mama, I would've just brought you some Taco Bell." She then barfed and joked, "Well, I'll be, Zo, it WAS your food!" (Sorry to those of you with weak stomachs.)
Finally got to a room around 2 a.m after petitioning a nurse (very nicely) to remember that my mom's diabetic and had just been in the ER Monday night for stroke-like symptoms. They got a room in a little while. By then my younger sister had shown up.
All symptoms and clinical exam pointed to appendicitis, but it took 45 minutes for a very good and attentive nurse named Ray to find a cooperative vein to draw blood from. At last a teeny needle in her thumb produced something. We told him how good he was at his job and he smiled, "This is my calling." I love those words! Especially when I'm sitting at the bedside of a painstricken mother.
She was pretty dehydrated, but unallowed to drink water because she might need surgery.
Meanwhile I was patting her very hot face with cold damp paper towels. "Not exactly Egyptian cotton here, Mama, but at least it's cool." I remember all the times she patted my feverish cheeks when I was little, and was grateful to return the comfort.
She finally asked the nurse for a pain med injection, which eased the nausea even before the nausea meds were administered. Then she was finally able to drift off to a light sleep. At 5:00 Daddy told me to feel free to go home and get sleep myself, which I did, assured that he was no longer under duress listening to her moan. The whole time she was very mentally sharp, speaking the lingo of nurses. (The guy across the hall with a bad cough spoke the language of a sailor, so I closed the door. Catch 22. Open the door, catch a cool breeze on her hot face, or close the door on the cusser and burn up.) I found myself praying for the angry man to get relief from his pain. It was his coping skill of choice to tell nurses and doctors they didn't deserve to be in the medical field. So I was thankful to be in the room with someone catching flies with honey instead of vinegar.
Latest update from Daddy: it is nearly noon and they have discovered it is NOT appendicitis. It is a build-up of blood around the kidney and in the ureter. She is being dismissed to go see a urologist near her home at 2 p.m. We all wish the doctor would go to her instead, but this is the way it is.
Please pray for us all. My mom and dad especially. We need the Lord's wisdom and protection. As I write this, I realize I need steady comfort. When my mind is "stayed on Him," I have peace. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it." starts with a wandering mind to the "what ifs" and I am wrong to do that. So pray my mind is stayed on Jesus.