April 6th, 2007


(no subject)

Unbelievable. I've been sitting here all day watching visitors come and go for other patients, waiting for Mom and Beau to come and provide some kind of company and diversion, but Mom wanted to drive around and visit the other resort hotels and have a nice lunch, (food is everything to her), so she went to The One and Only Palmilla and left Beau in the hotel. She just got back. He's miserable and wants to come visit me. I asked them to bring some things. Mom told Beau to go swimming first but he doesn't want to go swimming by himself and wants to come here so he got my stuff together and went to her room and said he'd like to come to the hospital. She doesn't want to come and visit me, maybe she's tired, at her age she has a right to be, but what isn't okay is that she doesn't want to spend the money for a cab, this from a woman who just bought three brand new St John suits, and asked me to find her two rooms at the best resort hotel in town, and is complaining about the cost of the lesser five star hotel I managed to rustle up for her in between episodes of bleeding. So here I am on strict orders to rest and cut back on stress and she makes Beau call me to ask if I can make arrangements with the hospital to send a car to pick him up. Never mind that Beau is in an unfamiliar foreign country worried about his sick mother and afraid to come alone. Shit.

Both of my parents had ulcers when I was young and for all of the years that I lived with them I lived under the threat of being held responsible should they return. "You're going to give me another ulcer," was something my Mom used regularly to shame me into compliance. I remember thinking at the time that she wasn't the one who was under stress and that if I got an ulcer then she might see how unhappy she was making me. You'd think that after all of those years of being told how important it was to maintain an orderly and stress free environment because of my parents ulcers that she would be able to return the favor, at least until I get out of the hospital.

Yesterday when my Mom came by to visit she was so afraid that I was going to die that she actually hugged me. My Mom is a pretty reserved person. She'll hug me but I usually have to initiate it, and no one would describe her as demonstrative, so when she suddenly leaned forward in her wheel chair and threw her arms around my hips it scared me so badly that I started to cry. Now that the bleeding has slowed down and I seem to be improving we're back to life as usual, sad. I thought I could milk this for at least a few more days of kindness...

I hate being negative and bitchy. I was actually pretty cheerful earlier. I found some things to do to keep myself occupied until the time when my family would come to visit me. Coincidentally I just happened to have a conversation with one of my nurses, Elizabeth, about the differences between the way Americans and Mexicans treat their hospitalized family members. She said that if someone in her family was here she would spend as much time as possible with them making things more comfortable and pleasant for them and that family members and friends take turns sitting with patients. She said that it shocks her when people are sick and their families and friends blow them off so they can go to the beach and have fun.

I think I'd probably feel a whole lot better if there were a little more light in this room and the remote control for the television worked for anyone other than the night nurse, Robert. He has some kind of magnetic remote control juju that allows him to simply touch the remote and get it working again. He thinks I just don't know how to press the buttons hard enough, sigh. He'll take it out of my hand press the up down button and the TV responds. I'll take the remote out of his hands and it'll work long enough for him to look at me like I'm wasting his time and then as soon as he leaves the room it stops working and I'll be stuck watching Mr. Bean or some terrible Animal Planet show where animals are savagely tearing each other apart.

Sorry for the whining, I'll check back in when I'm feeling cheerier. I know that any time I'm unhappy with the way things are that there is some lesson in it for me just waiting to be found. I like chatting with and making people laugh when I walk around the hallways. They think it's funny when I pretend to be trying to escape out the door in my short hospital gown with my IV pole.

Woah! I just signed in to Live Journal in order to post what I'd written and I see that there are several comments, yeay, thanks so much, woohoo, finally, something to look forward to : )