Hospital Watch

So, my Mom's docs have changed the way her pain meds/relaxation meds are delivered. Instead of getting one big ass does of morphine every once and a while (calms the breathing, relaxes her (duh) and deals with any pain) she is getting less, more often. In Cameron speak I told her "ooh.. you've moved from the street shit to the high class penthouse drugs".

This caused her to giggle. But to be fair, I've often found that stoned/drunk people find me much funnier than I am.

That said, the upshot of this is that she is much more lucid. She isn't having wired ass dreams; samples of which include waking up babbling about rape or waking up, looking around the room and announcing to my sister and father "shit, so it is real I am dying... I thought it was a bad dream." (I'm glad I missed that last one, I'm not at all sure I could have coped with that).

All in all though, her oxygen absorption rate is still pretty high and she seems ok... but, baring some miracle (requests for which seem to be covered nicely THANKS MIKE!) she will never leave the hospital. All this seemingly better absorption and calmer Bev just seems to mean that she will certainly live long enough for my sister to have a civil ceremony on Friday in her hospital room in advance of the Saturday wedding. After that, no one seems to know. I need to sit down with a doctor or one of the more senior nurses and get one of them to take the medical file apart for me and turn it into something like Medicine for Absolutely Overwrought Dummies™.