When last I wrote, Grandma had eaten two servings of lasagna and feeling fine after a somewhat miraculous recovery.
Tuesday morning, however, she called 911 because The Pain was so bad. It was so bad that she did not call Mom, who is less than one mile away. Grandma was taken to the emergency room where a CT Scan revealed nothing new. Additional tests were preformed and she was referred to a surgeon after tests revealed an "abnormal bowel gas pattern" in her abdomen. She was went home with a stronger dose of the pain pills that she is taking intermittently. Tuesday afternoon, she called Mom to let her know about the eventful morning. Yesterday, Grandma was feeling fine and was in a good mood.
Grandma sees the surgeon next Tuesday.
I am wondering why she did this end run on Mom? Is she acting out or really in sick? I'd hate to think that she was really really sick and we not taking her seriously. It all reminds me a bit of The Boy Who Cried Wolf.
The whole situation makes me feel bad. I hate that my grandmother isn't feeling well -- whether it's a physical or emotional problem. I hate that my mother is having to deal with the fallout. I hate that the medical community sometimes confuses quantity of life with quality of life.