As some of you know, my Mom had heart surgery last Thursday. Before she was admitted, she asked if I (as opposed to my sister*) would pick her up when she was discharged. "Absolutely," said I. "Just give me a heads up the day before so I can tell them I'm not coming in to work."
Cut to today. I was at work, racing about like a mad bookseller per usual. I'd just received a huge honkin' palette of kids' department books when I was told I had a phone call. It was my husband. "They're discharging your Mom today. Now, actually."
What the heck? She'd been in A-fib yesterday. They put her on heparin. And coumadin. Even she, a nurse, had figured that meant she'd be there a day or two more.
"Shit," I said. After a moment's consideration, I said it again. With force. Then I told my manager that I had to leave NOW. I was utterly unprepared. I had Mom's clothes and shoes and wallet at my house, a good 45 minutes north of my New Jersey bookstore - a good hour, hour and a half from the city. So, I drove into NYC to get Mom, who left the fine hospital clad in a hospital gown, slippers and robe.
On to my house - which, I might say, she'd not yet seen. There we got Mom dressed like a normal person once more. I took her on a quick tour of the town. Hey, she needs to tell Dad how wonderful and charming it is if she's to convince him to move nearer to me!
Then, another hour and a half to Connecticut. There, I changed the linens on her bed, threw in a load of laundry, cleaned the litterbox, dropped of her prescriptions AND went grocery shopping.
After that, it was yet another hour and a half in the car as I traipsed back to New York state. But, before I left, Mom asked if I would take her to the hospital for her follow-up visit in six weeks.
"Absolutely." What the heck. I'll have recovered by then. And, more importantly - she is my Mom. And even more importantly, her doctor is kinda hot.
*you know, I was going to do a sub-rant about my sister, but I don't have the energy right now. Love her, too, but - gah.