A post in which Nan Thai adds injury to insult****

I woke up at about 7am to the sounds of Mother throwing up. She had been up and very sick since about 5am. This after a long night of disturbance at the hotel. There was a Georgia football game last night, the first of the season, and there were some rowdy fans staying in the hotel partying. On our floor. We had heard them before I went to bed, but they seemed to have calmed down by the time I turned in. Apparently after I fell asleep things got lively again. Mom called the front desk, and they quieted down for a while, but then things started up all over again, resulting in their being noisily escorted from the premises at about 2am.

Mom was very sick. I went downstairs to get her a Coke from the hotel shop, and they didn’t have any! In Atlanta GA! When I explained why I needed it and asked about exigent care centers nearby, the head of security nicely went and found me a Coke. When I got back with it Mom sent me downstairs for breakfast, where I had a gorgeous lox and bagel plate with all the fixings for only $17(!!). I didn’t feel bad about not paying for the dry toast I took back up to Mom to see if she could eat anything. I then went to CVS for supplies. $30 later I emerged triumphant with an assortment of various over-the-counter remedies. Mom ate a saltine, and said she would try to drink some Pedialyte. She fell asleep since her stomach was pretty empty. I stayed in the room with her, despite her mom-ishly telling me to go on to the flea market without her. I was worried. She mostly slept through the morning, but every time I moved I woke her up again. I finally decided just to go on out so she could sleep. She told me she was going to take a sea-sickness pill (better for nausea than Pepto, I was told by the pharmacist), which I knew would knock her out.

I scampered over to boy’s town, played for a while, and did some shopping in the gay district, dropping my usual hundred or so dollars at Brushstrokes, finding some really cute Christmas cards among other finds. I called Mom about 6 to see how she was feeling. I figured she’d be ready to eat something besides saltines, but I was wrong. I asked if she wanted me to bring my food back to eat with her in the room, but she didn’t want to smell it.

Since there was a recommended (by the Brushstrokes guy, who was amazingly nice enough, despite being an Atlantian, in his 20’s, and reasonably attractive) Thai place nearby, I hopped in there for supper and had food that was twice as good as last night for half the price, served by pleasant people. King and I will definitely be on my re-visit list of Atlanta restaurants. The tofu with sweet chili sauce was excellent. The atmosphere wasn't as refined, but I've had about a bellyfull of refined atmosphere after the last couple of days. I went into Burkhart’s for an after-dinner drink, but couldn’t settle down. I was worried about Mom.

As soon as I got back to the hotel room, I could tell Mom was still in notably bad shape. I really thought she would feel better by the time I got back. She was still very nauseated, and I told her I thought we would have to go on to the exigent care center. When she got up to get ready to go though, she started throwing up again, losing the couple of saltines, half a piece of dry toast, and Pedialyte she’d been able to get down today. She couldn’t stop throwing up. The exigent care center wasn’t answering the phone. The head of security told me this morning that I would have to call an ambulance if she got worse, and they would take her vital signs and stuff. I called the desk and told them to get the ambulance.

The paramedics were actually very nice and pretty cute too. They did the vitals and said those were fine, but told us they couldn’t give Mom anything without taking her to the hospital. “You’ll have to make the call, Steve.” Mom said, “I’m too sick to decide.” Which of course made the decision. They loaded her up, and I followed the ambulance to the hospital.

It’s kind of scary being an adult sometimes. I never anticipated turning into the caregiver this soon. Mom is only 62. I mean, you know it’s going to happen, but you’re never really ready for those roles to reverse. I heard myself calmly telling the paramedics what Mother had eaten and taken, and when. I heard myself telling the nurse about her symptoms and medical history, but from about a half inch outside reality. I was kind of surprised at myself, even as I was doing it. Of course Mother was conscious, and it wasn’t like she was helpless, but I was the adult. It was a very odd feeling. It was a kind of no-brakes unreal sensation.

After the doctor finally came in, he was very nice, and gave Mom something for nausea. After that she mostly slept, while I sat and read. I got blankets to roll up and make her as comfortable as possible on the ER stretcher (they don't have pillows in the ER). I took it as a good sign that she was complaining about something besides her stomach. I made sure that her slippers were on and her feet were covered up. After they got another bag of fluids in her, they did a test run of crackers and juice. When she kept that down, they let us go.

I got the car, only having to fend off one panhandler and avoid one knife fight on my way back to the ER entrance. I was developing a bit of an Atlantitude by then. I think I scared the panhandler.

We got back to the room, thankfully, finally, about 2:15am. I put Mom in the bed, and collapsed on the most inhospitable sofa bed to sleep. How Mom had been sleeping on that thing I don’t know. I was all keyed up from the day. I could hear the elevator running restlessly up and down outside our room which backed up to the elevators. I could hear sirens and horns on the street. I read for a good while, turning off the lights twice and finally taking a pill before I was able to sleep.