Is There a Doctor in the House?

The colonoscopy went well, though it was delayed for three hours. My mother has diverticulosis. Apparently, most of us over 45 have diverticulosis. Having seen what it looks like, I hope to God I don't have diverticulosis.

Why is it that doctors are looking so young these days? Are they graduating from med school earlier? Actually, the surgeon was probably around my age (anyone over 35 is around my age, I decided), with some very nice biceps, I noticed. Not that I was looking.

My stepsister was to look after her father while my mother and I were at the hospital. I called her when they finally wheeled my mother in to tell her about the delay. "But I have a plumber coming to my house in half an hour!" she whined. I suggested she bring her dad back with her to her house. No, that wouldn't do. She abruptly ended the conversation and said she had to get off.

My mother has been complaining about this woman. She is single, 59, has a physically and emotionally demanding job, and obviously doesn't want to look after two old people, one of whom is her father. I was seething when I got off the phone. She has a way of sounding like it's my or my mother's fault for putting her out. And you know what? She still hasn't called to see how my mother is. How selfish is that? When we got home finally, my stepfather was sitting in his chair, by himself. She hadn't cooked him dinner (they like to eat at 5 p.m. sharp around here). So I set about cooking dinner for the two of them. I don't mind doing it, but why couldn't she have done something?

The truth is my mother's health has been broken by looking after her husband. He is frail physically and sometimes mentally too. She cannot go on looking after him by herself. I looked up the number for the Home Health people and got my mother to call them this morning. Someone is coming tomorrow. I will sit in and put in my two cents' worth (or more). We are going to see my mother's doctor (not the surgeon) on Thursday to go over her meds and see if he can prescribe something else for her tremor. By the time I leave on Monday, I am going to have something in place for these two people.

I spoke to their next-door neighbor, who offered some help. But she herself is recovering from ovarian cancer. She told me something I didn't know. The day after my stepfather's other daughter left to go home, my mother spent the day in bed crying. She was grieving for her brother who died last year, she said. My mother hasn't told me about this episode. Later, I suggested perhaps she wants the doctor to prescribe some anti-depressants for her. She said she doesn't need them. She said she just needs to get better and get some help.

I'm doing what I can. Tomorrow I'm going to write about tips for all of us to stave off the ravages of time.