Thursday, November 17, 2005
"If you spring from the bed, tomorrow, like Athena springing from the forehead of Zeus...
...then we'll go have your blood drawn."
We've been going back and forth all evening on whether to have her blood drawn tomorrow. The problem started when I mentioned that I'd be awakening her around 0930, no later than 1000, anyway, so we wouldn't be postponing breakfast until 1600 or so. Mom understood. And she wants to get it over with. But, considering her arising habits of late, well, I'll let her tell it:
"Isn't 0930 still night time?!?"
So, maybe we'll have blood drawn tomorrow and maybe we'll do it Monday. We'll see.
She brought up the subject of her super-prodigious sleeping on her own this afternoon. "I think in a few more days I'll just about have my sleep out and be ready to go, again!"
I was surprised that she brought it up. "Well, that's good to hear, Mom," I said, "especially since we've got plans in the Valley for Thanksgiving and it would be nice if you were up for being up."
"Oh, that's right! We'll work on that."
"Look, if you don't want to go down, it's next Thursday, you know."
"Oh course I want to go down! I wouldn't miss it!"
It's as though she read her body after a week and a half of flurried activity and "go, go, going" and realized it was time to take a break. At least this time I'm not freaking and trying to verbally whip her into moving. It usually doesn't work anyway and if it does we're both still miserable afterwards.
Besides, I'm curious about her results. There won't be a BMP this time and I've been wondering about her sodium level, not because she's collapsing but because her fluid intake has been relatively low but she hasn't appeared to be dehydrated. I've been wondering if she actually is retaining fluid but is drinking so little that it doesn't look like it. Although I won't be receiving a sodium level on her, if anything in her CBC looks seriously out of whack I'll know that something else is going on.
We've just about finished the book by Anne Rice about Jesus. If Mom's not sleeping or eating, she insists that we read. Well, except for this evening. I insisted that we watch a TV showing of the movie Julia tonight. I hadn't seen it since it came out in 1977. Mom was somewhat bored with it until the favor that Hellman did for Julia began. At the end she said, "They should have ended with the child being found."
"Mom," I said, "the child was never found in real life. I'm sure they wanted the movie to remain true."
"Oh, my," she said, "that really happened?"
"Yes. Hellman wrote about it in her biography."
"I should have paid closer attention."
"If you want, Mom, we could check the book out and read it."
She thought for a moment. "No," she finally announced, "I don't think so. That happened a lot back then. I know more than enough about that time."
And, she does, having lived through it.
Time to do evening stats.
Later.
We've been going back and forth all evening on whether to have her blood drawn tomorrow. The problem started when I mentioned that I'd be awakening her around 0930, no later than 1000, anyway, so we wouldn't be postponing breakfast until 1600 or so. Mom understood. And she wants to get it over with. But, considering her arising habits of late, well, I'll let her tell it:
"Isn't 0930 still night time?!?"
So, maybe we'll have blood drawn tomorrow and maybe we'll do it Monday. We'll see.
She brought up the subject of her super-prodigious sleeping on her own this afternoon. "I think in a few more days I'll just about have my sleep out and be ready to go, again!"
I was surprised that she brought it up. "Well, that's good to hear, Mom," I said, "especially since we've got plans in the Valley for Thanksgiving and it would be nice if you were up for being up."
"Oh, that's right! We'll work on that."
"Look, if you don't want to go down, it's next Thursday, you know."
"Oh course I want to go down! I wouldn't miss it!"
It's as though she read her body after a week and a half of flurried activity and "go, go, going" and realized it was time to take a break. At least this time I'm not freaking and trying to verbally whip her into moving. It usually doesn't work anyway and if it does we're both still miserable afterwards.
Besides, I'm curious about her results. There won't be a BMP this time and I've been wondering about her sodium level, not because she's collapsing but because her fluid intake has been relatively low but she hasn't appeared to be dehydrated. I've been wondering if she actually is retaining fluid but is drinking so little that it doesn't look like it. Although I won't be receiving a sodium level on her, if anything in her CBC looks seriously out of whack I'll know that something else is going on.
We've just about finished the book by Anne Rice about Jesus. If Mom's not sleeping or eating, she insists that we read. Well, except for this evening. I insisted that we watch a TV showing of the movie Julia tonight. I hadn't seen it since it came out in 1977. Mom was somewhat bored with it until the favor that Hellman did for Julia began. At the end she said, "They should have ended with the child being found."
"Mom," I said, "the child was never found in real life. I'm sure they wanted the movie to remain true."
"Oh, my," she said, "that really happened?"
"Yes. Hellman wrote about it in her biography."
"I should have paid closer attention."
"If you want, Mom, we could check the book out and read it."
She thought for a moment. "No," she finally announced, "I don't think so. That happened a lot back then. I know more than enough about that time."
And, she does, having lived through it.
Time to do evening stats.
Later.
