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Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is HEADS – LOVE .

So, as previously mentioned, my mom got sick last week. She had a problem with her hand which was extremely painful. I can understand that. She went to one doctor who sent her to another doctor. While she was at this nerve specialist she asked him to check her breathing. He said her oxygen sats were low and she should go see her doctor right away. She has been diagnosed with mild PPH and has a pulmonary specialist who treats her. She had been doing well.

Instead of contacting the pulmonologist, she went upstairs to her GP. He said her sats were low and she needed to be on oxygen, which he would arrange, and to contact her pulmonologist. My mother heard “You will be on oxygen the rest of your life. There is no hope. You will never return to work and what time there is of your life left will be spent tethered to an oxygen bottle.”

When I talked to her over the next few days, she was ‘making arrangements.’ She notified her work, had “difficult” conversations with her beloved co-workers, and called her mother “to tell her.” She had a long, worrisome conversation with Nanny that got Nanny all worried and upset. The entire time I was saying hey! This seems a little sudden don’t you think? Maybe we should figure out why your sats are so low all of a sudden, you know, just before we bury you? After all, I said, this isn’t your GPs area of expertise and maybe, just maybe, we should talk to the specialist before she started “packing it in.” She said I needed to stop yelling at her (in Mom’s world if you disagree or tell her things will be okay when she has unilaterally decided things will not be okay then you are yelling at her). Apparently all three her kids were “yelling” at her. We “yell” because we love.

Today she went to the specialist. He said she will not be on oxygen for the rest of her life. In fact, she has improved so much just in these few days she can go off oxygen during the day and just use it at night. Oh and she might be allergic to the dog they got for Christmas, so he started her on an inhaler and some nasal spray. A dog allergy!

My mom, I gotta love her…otherwise I might have to kill her.

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