Last weekend, when I called to say hello, Mom took the call (which she does not always do). She told me that her knee "locked up". I asked what that meant. She got right to her point, glossing over my request to explain what was wrong. She was mad - steaming mad. "I really want some comfort. It's really miserable. What do you want me to do? Lie here and writhe in pain?"
She wanted to be taken to the hospital right away. I probed gently for more information. "Mom, I never heard you say that you were having trouble with your knee. What are you feeling?"
She shouted, or more like whined, "Pain is pain. I woke up this morning and had this". I asked how it compared to the pain she gets in her belly periodically. She replied, "With belly pain you get a little relief in between spasms of pain. With this, you can't breathe". "Mom" I said, "when you have a lot of pain, you can get help right away". I reminded her that her aide can call a phone number 24/7 and speak to the hospice service. The hospice nurse will instruct her aide what to give Mom. Hospice has stocked the refrigerator in Mom's apartment with morphine of all types -- oral, injection, even suppositories. It's all bundled in a bag tucked in the corner of the fridge. Mom's reply to that? "Oh, nobody told me I'm on hospice now. Well, with this knee there is nothing wrong with me. It won't kill me. I wish it would. Just ask my aide to give me the pain medicine to knock me out".
I asked her to hand the phone back over to the aide. Discreetly walking out of earshot, the aide told me that this is the first she heard of the knee pain. Mom had already been awake, had moved from her bed to her walker, and sat at the kitchen table where she ate a hearty breakfast. She even had walked to the bathroom leaning on the aide's shoulder. I asked what she thought was going on. The aide said that Mom was bored and looking for an outing - for something to do. The emergency room was as good a destination as any.
Mom has not mentioned her knee again.
She wanted to be taken to the hospital right away. I probed gently for more information. "Mom, I never heard you say that you were having trouble with your knee. What are you feeling?"
She shouted, or more like whined, "Pain is pain. I woke up this morning and had this". I asked how it compared to the pain she gets in her belly periodically. She replied, "With belly pain you get a little relief in between spasms of pain. With this, you can't breathe". "Mom" I said, "when you have a lot of pain, you can get help right away". I reminded her that her aide can call a phone number 24/7 and speak to the hospice service. The hospice nurse will instruct her aide what to give Mom. Hospice has stocked the refrigerator in Mom's apartment with morphine of all types -- oral, injection, even suppositories. It's all bundled in a bag tucked in the corner of the fridge. Mom's reply to that? "Oh, nobody told me I'm on hospice now. Well, with this knee there is nothing wrong with me. It won't kill me. I wish it would. Just ask my aide to give me the pain medicine to knock me out".
I asked her to hand the phone back over to the aide. Discreetly walking out of earshot, the aide told me that this is the first she heard of the knee pain. Mom had already been awake, had moved from her bed to her walker, and sat at the kitchen table where she ate a hearty breakfast. She even had walked to the bathroom leaning on the aide's shoulder. I asked what she thought was going on. The aide said that Mom was bored and looking for an outing - for something to do. The emergency room was as good a destination as any.
Mom has not mentioned her knee again.
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