Mama Jo had several strokes yesterday morning, sitting on her bed, alone in the dark, unable to take those five steps that would have brought her to the phone so she could call my parents. Thank goodness she didn't pass out and fall off the bed, or knock herself out.
My parents waited until 8pm to see a doctor; thankfully, Mama Jo is going to be all right (we hope). Water on the lungs and TIA - minor strokes. She's on antibiotics for the strokes and will probably be getting a wheelchair. They're moving her into my old room.
Well, she's 90, after all. Time enough to be moved into the house, especially after her hip problems.
I love you, Mama. I don't talk to you often enough, I know. But I do love you. Don't go away.
"The world belongs however, to those can who look at the glass and say: "What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was bigger!" - Terry Pratchett, The Truth'
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