Thankful, for lack of a better word
**I meant to post this last week but life got in the way and it's a week behind!
Lately, things have been a little too crazy for my liking. First, the phone call I got 3 weeks ago about my brother being shot in the ankle. Those 4 words, "Josh has been shot," definitely got the heart pumping. And not in a good way. On Saturday, I called my mom to say 'hey' and she sounded horrible when she picked up. She'd had a toenail removed earlier in the week and unbeknownst to her, had picked up an infection in it that had gone from minor to epic proportions quickly. It had spread from her toenail, all the way up to her knee. Considering how serious this was, she went to the ER and was given intravenous antibiotics and sent home with a prescription for oral antibiotics. Knowing what an out of this world worrier I am, she didn't call me to tell me she was in the hospital; I found out this way. I was concerned but knowing that she'd been at the hospital and had received an IV of antibiotics put me at ease a little.
The next morning, I waited until about 10am before calling to check on how she was doing. No one answered. I figured my dad and brother were at church and my mom was either still sleeping or in the shower. I called again a few minutes later and still, no answer. Fear began rising in my throat and I tried not to let it take over as I tried calling my mom's cell phone: straight to voicemail. I decided to give my dad a try. He picked up, his voice a little weird and said, "have you talked to mom?" No, I hadn't. Apparently she was in the hospital as we spoke; her leg had gotten worse. I waited until we got off the phone and then turned into a blubbering mess. Dan and I had just gotten in his truck to head to church and I told him where she was. Plans for church were obviously cancelled as we headed back to throw Finley in with us as we had no idea how long we'd be gone.
Driving from north Denver to the hospital in Salida took us about 3 hours, thanks to the scads of drivers either driving 15 under the speed limit or Mr. Suburbanite driving the rented Cruise America RV and keeping CDOT employees busy with the plastic roadside markers he was taking out. Needless to say, it gave me plenty of time to think about my mom and of course, freak out and let my mind wander to places that it totally shouldn't have. You know, places that involved her not "being around". Ugh. I'm a champion worrier.
We spent a few hours at the hospital; most of the time was spent with me obsessively checking my mom's leg for signs of improvement or worsening. And no words of "she's going to be fine" from the nurses made me feel any better. I was flat out, scared to death, terrified of the infection taking over and losing my mom. Call it needless worrying but when your mom is your confidante, your personal medical dictionary and consultant and you're as close to your mom as I am, you worry.
Now that I've gotten all my worrying, crying and gray-hair-sprouting out of the way, she's on the mend and back at home. But I do ask her 2-3 times a day if she's still keeping her leg up. I'm going to drive my future children crazy; I can already tell!
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