What you see here is an empty bed. Well, not a bed proper, but this here in the living room is where The Grandmother sleeps/lives. She’s an old-school Korean, and old habits die hard. (So if anyone wants to know why I don’t have anyone over, c’est la raison.)
Recently The Grandmother has been weaker than normal, and gradually her appetite left her. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but on Wednesday night she started having to go to the bathroom a lot. Like every 30 minutes or so. That’s when I knew she had a bladder infection.
I took her to the nearest urgent care yesterday afternoon, and she couldn’t urinate. No sample, no prescription for antibiotics. And for some strange reason, they couldn’t use a catheter at that facility. So we had to go to the emergency room.
But The Grandmother was really wiped out from all of this, and by this time it was 6 pm and I still hadn’t eaten. At 7:30 I tried to get her to go to the hospital, and she physically couldn’t. For the very first time in my life, I had to call 911.
The Grandmother was pissed at me. The whole time in the ambulance she kept glaring at me saying, “Are you having fun? Are you enjoying this?”
Irregardless, she did have a bladder infection, and she will be all right. There’s also an issue with opioid-caused constipation that gives her hard stools which is what is leading to all these bladder infections.
She’ll be in the hospital for another night at least. I’m not feeling any of the emotions I felt last year when she was going through all of these problems. Since I know what they are, there’s not too much uncertainty in my mind.
But I do know that the family will need to start thinking about professional care, because it’s pretty damn expensive to have to call an ambulance each time The Grandmother needs to go to the hospital.
I left the hospital at 11pm last night since I was having trouble forming words. My aunt-by-marriage took over the overnight hours. I came home to an empty apartment. Not since I’ve moved back to The Pedro have I had an apartment to myself.
It was odd and liberating. I remembered what it felt like to be living by myself. Then, of course, I remember why I had the place to myself, and the pangs of guilt started to creep in.