Mom in Neuroscience ICU

Mom is spending the night alone in the ICU. We were at the hospital from 4:30 to midnight, and will be back there in the morning. Doctors' rounds are from 7 to 8:30AM, so we'll be leaving home around 7:30AM or so. We're all anxious about the results of the upcoming MRI.

When I saw Mom before leaving tonight, she seemed somewhat more lucid and less aphasic. Unlike earlier in the day, she was able to tell me my middle name. She failed, however, to remember the year of my birth. Gently reminding her that I'll be turning 40 soon was of no help: she knew what the current year was, but couldn't do the math. She simply gave up trying to work the problem out, lapsing into silence like a person who suddenly begins pretending that a problem doesn't exist.

And as per usual, Mom eventually told me to just go home. "Go" is what she tells everyone. It's shorthand for "Don't look at me when I'm like this," or "I don't want pity or sympathy." I acquiesced without a fight, knowing I'd need the sleep, but gave her two kisses before de-gowning (MRSA protocol as always; it's a bit like being labeled a leper).

We'll be contending with the monster in Mom's brain again tomorrow. Here's hoping nothing has metastasized.


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