Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (19 page)

There was some confusion about the bird’s orders. When the nurse practitioner came in, she asked what pain medicine Maum had been receiving. She seemed surprised that Dr. Sparrow had sent Maum without pain med orders when they’d just taken off the morphine pump. She also questioned the fact that Maum was running an elevated temperature but had not been getting any kind of antibiotics. She assured us that she would check with Dr. Sparrow and get these matters corrected.

Maum’s pain increased significantly during the afternoon while Peaceful Pines attempted to get additional orders from Dr. Sparrow. Finally, the nurse practitioner ordered Lortab for pain and the antibiotic Keflex until the bird responded.

We’d brought Maum to Peaceful Pines for rehabilitation, but I had a strong feeling that she’d been sent too soon. In the next few days, I spent more and more time with Rizzie by Maum’s side with interruptions only to pick up Tyrone from school and bring him back to sit with us. I had the time off, and I hadn’t heard from Patel. Sometimes I wondered if he’d gotten sick or hurt, but most of the time, I just wrote him off as not being as interested as I had thought or hoped.

After only three days at Peaceful Pines and only five days since her surgery, it was obvious that the Lortab wasn’t controlling Maum’s pain, which seemed to be worsening not by the day, but by the hour. Miss Hennie didn’t bother us, stayed quiet in her bed or out in the day room in her slanted wheel chair. On the third day, as I waved to her in the day room when I entered Peaceful Pines, she motioned me over.

“I’m an old lady, and I try to mind my own business, but I want to tell you some things that you and Mrs. Profit’s family might not know. I’m not a nurse, but they should be turning her every two hours to keep her from getting bed sores. Maybe the CNAs think you and your friend are turning her, but it’s their job, and I’m not sure her grandchildren know how important it is. The other thing is that if she misses three days of rehab, they have to move her to the rest home part of the building. She hasn’t been well enough for physical therapy, and she seems to be in more and more pain. That nurse practitioner is good. She takes care of me, but if I were Mrs. Profit’s children, I would
insist
they have the staff doctor see her. That’s within their rights.”

I thanked her, went straight to Rizzie, and repeated everything Miss Hennie had told me. We didn’t wait for the nurse practitioner to ask her for a doctor. Rizzie wanted me to go for her, but I insisted we go together. After all, I wasn’t a relative. We had just a bit of trouble finding out who to tell we wanted a doctor.

At the nurse’s desk, I asked, “Who’s the top person in charge here?”

“What’s wrong?” was the response.

“I just want to know who’s in charge?”

“Of what?”

“Okay, who’s in charge of the nursing staff?”

“Is something wrong?”

“What do I have to do to get an answer to my question? If I need to scream it out loud, I will,” I threatened.

I had to wonder if the charge nurse had heard of some of my shenanigans, because she told me to see the head of staff and where that office was situated. We went there where, when I asked if it would be possible for the staff doctor to see Maum, we were told that they were following the orders that came from Mrs. Profit’s surgeon.

“I didn’t ask you what the surgeon said!” I tried really hard to hold on to my temper. I hate, absolutely
hate
people who won’t answer a direct question, people who don’t seem to understand, but are really simply trying to redirect the questioner. It’s a politician’s trick that has no place in real life.

After a lot of discussion and my showing my flat behind because I hadn’t worn my fanny panties that day to boost me up like Lopez or a Kardashian, the head nurse called the staff doctor and requested that he see Mrs. Profit that day. Rizzie and I went back to Maum’s side and waited, and waited, and waited.

I was ready to go down the hall and show more of my butt than I already had when a pleasant young man came in and asked, “Is this Mrs. Profit?”

“Yes,” Maum managed to say through a grimace.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

“I hurt. I hurt so bad I wish I would die.” Maum’s weak voice could barely be heard.

The doctor turned to Rizzie and me. “I think we should unbandage that incision and see what’s going on.”

What
was
going on was massive infection as well as an allergic reaction to the adhesive of the bandage. No wonder poor Maum was in so much pain. Her whole hip was deep scarlet, blistered, and oozing ugly stuff.

The staff doctor changed Maum to a stronger antibiotic and pain medicine, both to be given by IV. He also put her on nutritional milkshakes between meals and ordered her incision dressings to be changed and medicated several times each day.

Rizzie and I were optimistic these changes would put Maum on the road to recovery, but at the end of the week when I went back to work, we couldn’t see much change in Maum’s progress. About the only thing we’d really accomplished during the time I was off was to rent Rizzie a car. She’d insisted she didn’t need one, but I wanted her to be able to leave Peaceful Pines if something happened to Maum when I wasn’t there. I still hadn’t heard from Patel, and I’d stopped calling his number.

Tyrone spent most of his time at Peaceful Pines when he wasn’t in school. The patients in the day room seemed to like him. He spoke to all of them when he came and went, and they smiled at him every time they saw him.

The night I went back to work, Patel called.

“I owe you another apology,” he began.

“For what? Standing me up?” I seemed to have forgotten that I’d been hours late calling him back that night. I also didn’t seem to remember how angry I was when my brother was rude to him because now I was equally discourteous.

“No, for letting too much of my feelings show. I have to be honest. You remind me too much of Shea, my wife. You look a lot like her except her hair was darker, and your actions make me think of her. I realized the day you went to the ER that I was getting too involved with you too quickly. It wouldn’t be honest to keep seeing you, knowing that some of my attraction to you had to do with Shea.”

I didn’t tell him that my hair is naturally darker than I was wearing it. I didn’t really say much at all. Just thanked him for letting me know what had happened, disconnected the telephone, and cried.

16

“Callie, can you come to Peaceful Pines this afternoon?” Rizzie’s voice sounded pathetic on the telephone. “They’ve scheduled a meeting about Maum at two o’clock. I’m so scared they’re going to say she can’t stay here. What am I going to do? I don’t think I can take good enough care of her at home.”

“I’ll be there. Do you want me to get Tyrone out of school for the meeting?”

“No, I don’t want him here.”

No physical therapy during the weeks she’d been at Peaceful Pines. That suited Maum fine. She’d given up on ever walking again, and she’d grown tired of the occupational people wanting to guide her hands to brush her hair and teeth. “Nobody needs to show me how to use a brush. I been doing that ninety years. I broke my hip, not my head,” she’d say. “I’m tired. If my hair needs combing, Rizzie or Callie will do it.”

I’d been so excited the day she ate the doughnut, but when I took her doughnuts again, she refused them. She’d been turning down the mealtime trays, too. Even when they offered something she liked, Maum would only eat a bite or so and that had to be spoon-fed to her. She’d eaten that doughnut like she loved it, and she’d grinned when she finished it, though she refused a second one that day or thereafter.

I made it a point to get to Peaceful Pines early so I could visit with Rizzie and Maum before the meeting. When I went into her room, I was, as every time I saw her now, shocked at how tiny and frail she was. She’d always been slight, but now she seemed swallowed in the bed with the covers all tucked in around her neck to keep her warm. She liked to have her big white fluffy cat Tyrone had brought her across her feet. Said the stuffed animal kept her feet warm. I thought of her telling me, “Old bones are cold bones,” the first time I met her.

The round table in the conference room reminded me of the ones we have in planning rooms at the funeral home. The ladies sitting there identified themselves: nurse, dietician, head physical therapist, and social worker. The one man was a financial adviser. Rizzie introduced herself, though she’d spent so much time with Maum that they all knew her. She presented me as “Ms. Parrish, my sister.” That got a rise from several sets of eyebrows.

“Ms. Profit, we’re here to discuss your grandmother. As you’ve seen, her condition is not improving.” The tone struck me as accusatory, but it couldn’t have been. Rizzie had done everything expected and more. I think I just felt defensive. I wondered if Rizzie was experiencing the same emotions.

They took turns speaking, and none of it was good. Maum’s intake was far too low, even with the supplement shakes. The therapist said that there was nothing more they could do. “We feel that she’s a candidate for Hospice Care,” the nurse told us.

Rizzie’s eyes bugged, and I’m sure mine did, too.

“Hospice? You mean she’s dying?” Rizzie could barely be heard.

“Hospice is no longer called in just before death. It’s now for people who aren’t benefitting from medical efforts to cure them. Generally, that does occur about six months or so before death, but we’ve had patients who received Hospice care and then got so much better that they were removed from the Hospice program,” the nurse explained.

“What would be different if Maum had Hospice?” I asked since Rizzie seemed speechless. “Are you saying she’d be moved from here but that someone would come in to help care for her?”

“No, she won’t have to leave here if the family chooses to apply for Hospice care. She’ll stay right here, but her treatment will be aimed toward keeping her comfortable. She hates the IV, and Hospice will remove it and give her meds by mouth. Recognizing that she can’t be cured, her care will be aimed toward making her as comfortable as possible. Instead of whichever CNA is on duty giving her a bath and feeding her, she would have her own Hospice nursing assistant, the same one each day. She’ll also have a Hospice nurse and doctor. I guess what Hospice really does is provide personalized services and support for the patient and family.”

Rizzie still seemed in shock, so I continued asking the questions. “I thought Hospice was just for cancer and stroke patients. What is Maum’s diagnosis? Infection and complications?”

“Technically, Mrs. Profit’s diagnosis is Adult Failure to Thrive, which just means that she’s not getting better.”

“Does she qualify for Hospice?” Rizzie finally found her voice.

“Yes, she does, and the doctor here is willing to recommend her.”

“Then do it.” Rizzie paused. “What about the cost?”

The male financial adviser addressed that issue in length, but what it boiled down to was that with government medical assistance and the insurance Rizzie had blessedly purchased the week before Maum’s fall, her Hospice charges would be covered.

“Then do it,” Rizzie repeated.

• • •

The next day, Linda showed up.

Linda: petite, blonde, mid to late thirties, and an angel. She leaned over Maum and spoke in a loud, but soothing, voice.

“I’m Linda, and I’m your own CNA from now on. I’ll be here every weekday morning to help take care of you.”

She handled Maum’s tiny body tenderly while bathing and dressing her, and then shamed me by giving her a manicure that very first day. I’d neglected what should have been my responsibility. After that, for the first time since the fall, Rizzie could leave Maum for brief periods without worry or feeling guilty—so long as Linda was there.

I became optimistic. Maybe Maum wouldn’t get well, but perhaps she’d stay the same or improve just a little.

It wasn’t to be.

On Sunday, I took Tyrone out to Daddy’s for the day. My father had taken a real shine to the teenager and was teaching him to play the guitar. In turn, Tyrone was showing Daddy and Mike how to cook some of the dishes served at the restaurant, which was still closed.

I almost waited until afternoon to go to Peaceful Pines. I really needed to do laundry, and the apartment wasn’t exactly immaculate either. Not that it ever is. Cleaning is not what I do best. Come to think of it, I hadn’t been doing what I think I do best very regularly since I moved back to St. Mary.

Instead of turning left off Highway 21 toward my apartment on Oak Street, I turned right and went to Peaceful Pines. They’d changed the code again, so instead of being able to punch in the numbers on the key pad to open the door, I had to wait for an attendant to let me in.

The sound was soft, but I heard it in the hall—Rizzie crying.

She was curled up in the chair beside the bed with Maum lying on it looking dead. The big, fluffy cat Tyrone had won for her at the fair lay across the foot of the bed as usual. I’ve seen enough bodies to recognize that look, but I saw that her chest was rising and falling slightly. Assuming that it had all just caught up with Rizzie, I hugged her.