Can't live with 'em...can't shoot 'em.

Since my mom's chemotherapy got derailed by the cowboy this week, we had to go to the hospital to get her treatment today. We will also have to go tomorrow.

When we got to the cancer ward (station 88, it's called) an energetic young nurse came bouncing toward us while the rest of the staff stood around chatting. "are you Carol?" I liked her because she reminded me of my friend Katy, who is also a nurse.

She took us into one of the regular hospital rooms and got my mom set up. This is the same floor that my mom was on when she had pneumonia in August. The first thing Casey the nurse asked was whether my mom usually received a premed drip before the chemo, and if so what drugs are in it? Mom's oncologist had apparently ordered the chemo but not the premed drugs. Luckily my mom, whose brain is full of cancer, has a better memory than her doctor. She told the nurse what drugs were needed. Later the pharmacist got a hold of the doctor and got that same order approved. Casey laughed when she explained this to us. "Dr. S. can be a real goofball sometimes."

We ended up spending twice as long at the hospital waiting for the drugs to be mixed and sent up from the pharmacy. Luckily I didn't mind sitting in a comfortable chair, in a quiet room with my feet up on the bed.

I'd asked Casey if there was a social worker we could talk to. Dr. Goofball had advised us on Thursday that if we wanted to pursue the nursing home option for my mom we needed to talk to a SW at the hospital. Casey said she would put a call in to the SW for us.

My mom and I chatted about this and that, mostly about her work as a paramedic trainer at a city hospital in Iowa. I got to hear old tales about her butting heads with doctors and supervisors and nun/hospital administrators. I also heard about the ones she respected, the ones with integrity who stood by the patients at any cost.

Halfway through the treatment a social worker showed up to talk to us. I said I wanted a plan in place in the event that my mom cannot be cared for safely in my home but still wants to get treatment. (Hospice is not paid for by Medicare until the patient is no longer receiving treatment). Her balance and her speech are changing on a daily basis, and I want to be ready. We talked about nursing home respite care and assisted living respite, and quickly figured out that we cannot afford it. It would be "private pay" at this point as the care she needs is considered "custodial" and Medicare doesn't pay for it. The social worker suggested having a PT, OT and SW assessment in our home to see what we need to keep her safe there. My mom and I were both happy with this option because we'd had such a great experience with Fairview Homecare after my mom's pneumonia hospitalization. The SW went to call the Goofball to get an order from him, but she ended up not getting through because he's not taking any more calls this weekend. She will call him on Monday and then let us know what happens.

I told my mom that if I felt like I expected support from the physicians in our life right now, I would be up shit creek without a paddle. We agreed that we are blessed to have our friends, our family and the amazing nurses, NPs and SWs we've met in this tangled web of cancer care.