Went and saw mom with Andre, my grandson, this weekend. She was fresh out of the hospital, her arms bruised where the IV’s went in. Andre in his innocence rubbed his GG’s (Great-Grandmother’s) arm and said, “GG has an owie.” He rubbed as though he was going to make it better. Mom’s breathing was difficult, labored and shallow. Every breath required so much effort, her shoulders would shrug as she took each breath. With the assistance of staff we repositioned her in her wheelchair to see if that helped. It didn’t.
It killed me not to be able to help mom. She seemed better. I used my best assessment skills, tent the skin on her hand to see if she is hydrated, look for swelling of ankles for water retention, check color of skin, check range of motion in fingers and arms. She passes all tests. For now she is comfortable and resting.
As we were leaving, we heard an ambulance with the siren running. Andre said, “Is that for GG, Papi.” “Not today Dre, not today.”
