Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Cause and Effect

How do we get here?  We are the sandwich generation, some say.  So at the same time that I am teaching my three year how cause and effect works, I am also re-teaching my mother the same theory.  To the child it is simple.  Cause: Not putting your shoes on.  Effect: You can’t go outside to play.  To the older parent it is just about as complicated as string theory. 

Every Tuesday and Friday, my mother must report to the oncology clinic for either treatment or tests or appointments (or any combo of the three).  My mother needs someone to accompany her as it is a long drive and she doesn’t have the stamina or even wherewithal to make the drive alone.  As a matter of fact, she would probably get lost and end up in the ghetto even though she not only grew up but worked in the city for most of her adult life. 

My younger brother and I have split the responsibility in half.  I have Tuesdays and he has Fridays.  The first time he substituted his Friday with his wife, I should have expected that there would be trouble. You see, my mom will always put up a fight but seldom gets away with things when she is dealing with her children. (That’s what she gets for teaching us not to take any crap from anyone.)  Others feel bad for her and let her cheat.  And, let’s face it, cheaters never prosper.

Ok so, sister-in-law takes mom to clinic one Friday in my brother’s stead for labs and a checkup.  During this visit, my mother is told that her blood pressure is a little high.  My mother responds with, “Oh, I have blood pressure medication I can take.”  The nurse looks through her records and does not see any blood pressure medication.  My mother is referring to an old prescription, one that is pre-cancer and pre-oncologist.  The nurse asks my mom to not take the old prescription as it may not gel with the numerous cancer and prophylactic meds she is currently on.  Then the doctor comes to examine her and reiterates the same message, “Your pressure is a little high.”  My mom responds with the same, “I have blood pressure medication I can take.” The doctor asks her not to take the old medication.  On her way out of each appointment, the Oncologist’s Nurse Practitioner likes to see my mom to go over all of her instructions and upcoming appointments and treatments.  During this review, she reiterates that my mom’s pressure is a little high but she is NOT to take the old blood pressure medication. Once my sister-in-law dropped my mom off at home, she reported all of this to me over the phone.  I then called my mom and said, ”Whatever you do, don’t take that old blood pressure medication.”

That evening, I check on my mom and, what do I find?  … My mother laying on the couch looking like she got run over by a truck.  When I inquire what is wrong with her, she confesses that she indeed took the blood pressure medication because she was afraid of her pressure going too high.  All she had to do was…NOTHING!  Instead she took a medication that caused her blood pressure to go through the floor. 
As I was calling the clinic to inform them of what my mom had done, she excused herself to the bathroom.  Just as I am hanging up I her say from inside the bathroom, “I think I’m gonna” and before she can get the word faint out of her mouth she literally poured out of the bathroom and onto the hallway floor.  Lifeless, my mother is lying on the floor.  My toddler, who was with me for the visit, is stunned as I am yelling at my mom to answer me and as I am calling 911.

It is very fortuitous that my mother and I live on the same street so that my husband could come and get our pour boy but not after he had learned that mom-mom had peed her pants.  (Funny the things that resonate.)

Cause: taking a medication that she is told NOT to take
Effect: A ride in an ambulance, trip to the ER, missed work by myself and my brother for spending time at the ER with her late night, one broken wrist, additional trips to additional doctors for x-rays, a cast, follow-up x-rays, a little boy who is afraid that he might fall and pee his pants and break his hand (ok, I am sure he will get over that one soon), and not being able to write with that big-ass cast on her right hand.

At least I got to sign her cast with, “Dope” in big blue letters. 

Sunday, January 2, 2011

My mother has cancer!

Three or so years ago, life was so exciting!  My husband and I both had well-paying jobs and our first child was on his way.  Flash forward to today...my mom has cancer, my husband is out of work and I am the sole bread-winner. The thought of having another child now is frightening, to say the least.   
So, cancer…  We got the word while we were one day to our annual family week down at the jersey shore.  Mom was having some pretty bad belly pain so; her sister took her to the local E.R. Belly pain turned to pneumonia before the week was out.   Pneumonia lingered and worsened over the span of three more weeks which landed mom in the ICU on a ventilator!  My brothers and I were beside ourselves.  The last time we saw someone on a vent, it was my grandmother.  We were petrified that we would lose mom like we lost grams to that breathing contraption so many years before. 
My husband kept telling my brothers and me to have my mother transferred to a better hospital.  He kept questioning the doctors at the local hospital, “Why can’t you cure her pneumonia?”, and “What is the source of her belly pain?”  They never had any answers.  They called in more and more doctors.  At one point, they were giving her an HIV test.  HIV?  Her stomach hurts! 
Finally, after four weeks of getting progressively worse, I listened to my husband and demanded that my mother be transferred to a better hospital.  She was moved to a University hospital in an a-joining city.  Within two days mom was sitting up and talking.  I thought it was a miracle.  My husband insisted it was good medicine.  Nevertheless, mom’s pneumonia was on the mend.  Now it was time to find out what the belly pain was all about.  Mom had almost every test you can think of (and a few you would swear I made up).  That’s when cancer reared its ugly head. 
That’s why I am Frazzled Cheese.  I try not to implode or explode while I am caring for my three year old, taking my mom to her numerous doctors’ appointments, chemo treatments and tests after tests after tests, working more than full time…all while my husband is more often than not,  out of town.  Frazzled is my way of life.  My hair is always a frizzy, knotty, dirty mess.  I have put on a ton of weight.  I never put on makeup, never bother to dress in anything other than black and greys. I can’t remember anything to save my life.  I once sent my school to school with his half eaten lunch from the day before.
I am caught in the middle of my child and my mom.  I would say that I am the meat in the middle of a sandwich but, I am a vegetarian.  I am not a vegan and am quite fond of dairy products. I love a good cheese samie so, when I was trying to come up with a good name for this blog….Frazzled Cheese is the best I could come up with. 
Here, I will be posting about how my mom is driving me crazy, how I miss my husband, how my son is so uber cute (and that is how the universe keeps me from constantly yelling at him), how my poor, neglected dog the only one who gets me and everything else that makes up my insane life.  I am hoping that my posts will, at least give you a chuckle, if not inspire you to keep on keepin’ on through your own frazzled middle place.