Listening

Not one of my strengths. I want to interrupt, finish sentences, put in my two cents worth.
But I'm learning that I need to hear what others have to say.

The hospital is noisy. The man across the hall is hard of hearing. It's hard not to listen to the yelling that goes on in his room.

Late last night, the doctor came in and gave us the results of the ct scan. For now, things appear to be stable. She told us that she was concerned that she would have to take Mom back to OR. But what she saw on the scan did not indicate that she needed to go back in.

However there are some serious concerns about her condition. She has been running a fever. Pneumonia seems to be lurking in the background. Mom needs to feel good enough to sit up in the chair and even take a few steps.

We also talked briefly about biopsy results--which confirmed that the tumor and other areas biopsied are cancerous. Of 20 lymph nodes, 16 were cancerous.

While we have many questions, there are not answers to all of them right now. The immediate goals are to get her comfortable and recovered from the surgery." That may take some time. Because, according to the doctor, we are "At the mercy of our bowels. (Now there's a catchy title for a country song.) And the bowels tend to take their own sweet time to get back in business. But the nurses and doctors keep listening for some sign that they are "waking" up. And they listen to Mom, to us and each other. Not our bowels, or each others bowels. Oh, never mind. You know what I mean.

Kent, Mark and I all came home last night after hearing the results. We had planned to stay, but Mom really needed to rest and seemed to be ok. She even managed to say a few words and told us "It's late, you kids need to get home"  She was right, as usual, and being bossed around., even in her weak, labored voice, was just fine.