She was still very weak, and she didn't like the fact that they were pushing her to worker harder than she wanted. I explained to her that she was going to be pushed. She has to do the exercises in order to grow stronger and avoid complications.
"I know my limitations," my mother sighed. "They are pushing too hard."
"You need to do them, Ma." I don't cave when she fusses. "If you don't do them, you're going to stay weak. You need to cough when they say, even if it hurts. Hug the pillow..."
She nods off.
I sigh. We leave, and then head over to our favorite Christmas Eve Chinese restaurant. It's a BH and GC tradition. This time, we were able to bring Dad.
He doesn't get much opportunity to eat at restaurants these days. I think it was a welcomed reprieve from the daily drudgery. He even refused to use his wheelchair, preferring to walk in under his own power…
On Friday, December 14, we bade farewell to our beautiful Truffle Trafalgar. Being honest, Better Half and I are still in shock.
We have several dogs. Three were advanced in years. The smallest and youngest of the geriatric set, Piper, seems to have boundless energy (and needs a few teeth pulled or cleaned). The oldest, Zephyr, could pass for Thanatos' lap dog. Or the Emperor from Star Wars. He does have that sort of crusty wrinkle to him.
Truffle, on the other hand, had grey but was otherwise in good health - or so we thought. It was only during the last week or so that she seemed 'off'. She'd linger downstairs after we'd all gone up. We thought she was staying behind to seek out crumbs we'd missed in the kitchen.
There were other factors in her life, of course. She's always had sleep apnea - truth: she snores more loudly than I do. And she had Parvo as a puppy. It's no wonder, then, that she suffered two heart attacks.
I'm at Trinity West today. It's a familiar place, considering the entire family are patients of Dr. Miracle. Also, it's where I come for monthly port maintenance.
*evil laugh* I shall become a cyborg and terrorize the World! All shall fear...wait, never mind. Trump's already doing that.
Back to breakfast, then. I didn't choose the bacon portion. Holy shit, they load trays up with omnipig strips!
Mum has already gone to lab for her cath. This foray into cardiac medicine comes courtesy of her PCP, Dr. P. Goodocktor. A detected murmur lead to lab tests, and that landed Mum squarely in Dr. Miracle's territory. It's a tight valve. The cath should determine if it's repairable.
Dr. Miracle works fast. It usually takes longer to prep that it does to perform the procedure. I'll have enough time to wolf down my melon and egg before I'm called back to the heart center for his report.
Mum's already set against further heart surgery. "I've…