Mums: The Saga

Oh my. It’s been a wild few days. On Sunday, I called my dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day. Then he asked me if I had talked to Mums yet that day. I said no. “Well, you should call her. She’s sick . . . and, well, I think you should call.” I pressed for more information and learned she had collapsed while getting the mail. She apparently felt quite ill. My dad, remember, is working on a renovation for my aunt and uncle in California. So I called. No answer. I called Mom’s cell. No answer. I called Tyler’s cell, but he had recently lost his phone in Vegas and God forbid he buy a new one when the new iPhone would be released in a couple days and he could “be the shit” (his words) with the coolest, latest gadget. No answer. So I called home again. Still no answer. At this point, I was extremely worried and trying like hell to remember my parents’ next-door neighbors’ phone number, but only getting as far as 3-9-1 . . . Then I called Christine, my sister-in-law. Ah, finally some clarity. From her I learned Tyler had driven to the Quah and was with her. After a few more calls between Mom, Dad, and Tyler, I felt confident that my brother had everything under control. The next morning, Tyler called Mums at the crack of dawn to make sure she was still okay, and then he drove her to the doctor. I talked to her before the appointment and she promised to call me afterward. Hours passed. Too many hours. Finally, I called her cell. No answer. (Notice a pattern here?) I called home. No answer. I called Tyler and . . . SUCCESS! Sort of. From him I learned Mums was at the hospital getting all sorts of tests done. Up until now, I had been certain that Mums had pneumonia. (We of Opp descent have an innate knack for making diagnoses without having attended medical school.) Pneumonia was serious, but nothing that some antibiotics couldn’t fix. Still, as more time passed, my mind started going into worst-case scenarios. Was something wrong with her heart? Could she have some sort of cancer? As I tried to distract myself with an episode of Ice Road Truckers, Tyler finally called and he finally had news. My mom had a pulmonary embolism (clot in her lung) and an additional clot in her leg. Not to mention a spray of little clots throughout her other lung. A string of ladylike profanity spilled out of my mouth at this news, reflecting every emotion from relief to terror to worry to frustration. My brother, no stranger to blood clots himself, sounded worried and tense but he spoke calmly, reassuring me that all had been caught in time. “Still,” he added, “A lung is exactly where you don’t want a clot to go.” “She should have called 911 when she blacked out yesterday,” I muttered. “Shortness of breath and losing consciousness are not minor symptoms.” “Yeah, I know. But it’s fine. She actually sounds a lot better now that they know what the problem is.” I wanted desperately to call my mom, but she had no phone with her and she wasn’t yet settled in a hospital room. So I did what any rational person would do 3,000 miles away from a loved one in strife: I logged into Facebook. I put up a quick status about Mums, and within a mere few minutes, I learned that my mom’s good friend Jana was on her way to the hospital. I called Dad. “Jana’s on her way there,” I reported. “Good,” Dad replied. “I was gonna call her. How did she--?” “Facebook. Kelli called her.” “Oh. Well, good.” It was frustrating, being stuck on the WRONG COAST while the hoopla took place. Tyler rose to hero status by handling everything, which greatly eased my mind. Knowing my mom’s friends were mobilized also made me feel better, especially with my dad gone. When I finally got to talk to her the next morning (somebody had refused to call the Eastern time zone at 11:30 p.m. the previous night), Mums sounded much, much better. Her main problem was boredom, so I regaled her with tales of Charlotte’s foray into solid foods to kill some time before the trashy magazines arrived. I’m relieved and grateful that Mums dodged this big fat bullet, but I’m also strangely wound up and distracted and almost jittery. I mean, people just drop dead from clots like these. It’s a miracle she survived the blackout, let alone cheated death for how many days or even weeks while she “just didn’t feel quite right.” Maybe we need jolts like this to keep our focus on the important stuff. I have to say, the book I’ve been slaving over for months that went to press this week seemed shockingly unimportant. My messy house? Equally unimportant. By the grace of God, Tyler and I still have our mom, Charlotte still has her nana, my aunt still has her sister, my dad still has his ball and chain (he’d say that lovingly, I’m sure), and my mom’s friends still have their friend—although she may need to lay off the Jell-o shots for a few months, what with the blood thinners and all. Lucky, we Opps.