Two years ago this month, I almost lost my mom.
Not in a dramatic, sudden way. In the quiet, slow, nobody-knew kind of way that is somehow worse.
She had become severely ill — the kind of ill where you can't get out of bed, can't make yourself food – and don't want to eat anyway, and can't get to the phone. And she didn't tell anyone while she was still able to. She just didn't want to be a bother.
A week prior to this, Mom had told me she had an upset stomach. No big deal – these things happen. I called to check on her a couple of days later – no reply. Then the next day – called, texted – no reply. That wasn't entirely unusual, my mom has never been great about answering her phone or returning messages. So I waited. And called again. And I waited some more.
After a few days of silence I got concerned enough to drive over and check on her in person. She didn't answer the door. I let myself in and found her lying in a soiled bed, unable to move. Barely able to acknowledge I was there. I called an ambulance immediately.
At the hospital, the ER doctors quickly ran a battery of tests. Mom was severely dehydrated, in stage-4 kidney failure, and fighting multiple concurrent infections.
They moved her to an isolation room – negative pressure to keep anything she had from getting out – and worked to stabilize her vitals. 48 hours later, and out of immediate danger, they moved her to the infectious disease ward of the hospital. Signs on the door warned visitors to don gowns, gloves and masks before entering. She spent the next three weeks there being very slowly nursed back to life.
By the time she was finally out of danger, cleared of infection, and released from the hospital, she had lost so much muscle mass that she needed around-the-clock care. This was not going to be a quick recovery.
It would be a couple of months of full-time care and daily physical therapy; then months more of gradually reducing assistive care as mom gained back some of her strength. The road back was long and hard, and never complete.
Mom pulled through the ordeal — a testament to her tenacity. But she came out of it substantially less mobile, less capable, physically and mentally, and less independent than she had been just a few months before.