Momma's OK!

And I could not be more thankful. Here's the quick run-down...since we first starting discussing a hip replacement for her, we worried about anesthesia. My Grandma died from complications for anesthesia, oh, and possibly the doctor in Florida who most needs his licensed pulled and an amazing beating.

So, she decided to get checked out. Turns out her heart isn't great, and the risk was too severe. So the doctor decided to work on her heart. That opened up a whole new can of worms. Suddenly she's on Coumidin and is having trouble breathing. My fear grew as quickly as hers did. We both have gallows humor, so we managed, but quietly, I was having trouble functioning. And, if I must be honest, I started considering that my Momma was going to die, sooner rather than later. I actually had thoughts about how I'd tell people, how I'd feel, what I'd do next. Sometimes, it made me feel better. Mostly, it scared the shit out of me. I'm violently attached to my Momma. I know one day all this will happen, but I can't even imagine how I'll deal.

Anyway...moving on. So today she had to have a "procedure" which involved general anesthesia. Or so I thought. I pulled her nurse out of the room, immediately started crying, and asked her to explain what was going on. I really didn't want Momma to see me cry, to see how worried I was. I knew she was worried too. Turns out, it wasn't general anesthesia, but just sedation, so the doctor could shock her heart back into a normal rhythm. I felt a little better.

So, they took her. I was sitting alone in the waiting room (I had managed to ditch my dad and Momma's good friend. I just couldn't handle them too.) I hugged her and said that I'd see her soon. Sitting alone, I could only stare at her watch. (I was wearing it for safe-keeping.) I could not stop the tears. I thought I'd either cry forever, or beat the woman who was chattering loudly to some new acquaintances. Momma's friend found me, held me, and helped calm me down.

Outcome: Momma's OK. One shock and her heart became a step-and-fetch-it. Momma's now home, enjoying a muchly earned Subway sandwich, and I'm at home, telling you more than I should and being incredibly relieved. Score one for this doctor.

But I've still got his number.