Listen to your gut... before it tells you goodbye

I like my gut. It's been good to me through the years, so I try to be good to it. I feed it when it's hungry. I try to keep in reasonable shape so it looks good. And I try to listen to it when it talks to me. Except this time I didn't. And I'm so mad at myself I would kick myself in the groin if it was physically possible.

And, if I had a groin.

Anyway, if you read my last post, you know my Mom, who is in town visiting, became sick and I took her to the ER on Saturday to be checked out. The diagnosis came back as a bladder infection, even though my Mom was telling the ER doc that the last time she felt this bad was when she had a kidney infection. And I at one point I remember asking the doctor if a bladder infection would make someone as sick as my Mom.

It was at this point my gut was telling me to push the issue. Except that I didn't. I know my Mom doesn't like confrontation, and at this point it was after midnight and we were pretty tired. Besides, my gut doesn't have a medical degree, so I let it go.

Fast forward to Sunday and my Mom isn't doing any better. She's had flashes of okay-ness, but for the most part is pretty sick. I try to convince her to go back to the hospital because my gut keeps poking me, and it's getting annoying. But we figure she just needs to stick with the antibiotics she has and give them time to work.

On Monday it's clear things are getting worse, so I take her back to the ER. Since it's a Monday and a holiday, I figured it would be pretty light.

WRONG.

We wait in the ER for 3 and 1/2 hours, all the while my Mom is getting worse and worse. Finally they take her back, but they have no rooms, so she has to lay in a bed in the hallway. It seems we have found a competent doctor who tells us that, yes, she does have a kidney infection and it has gotten so bad that they need to admit her.

At this point it's about 7:30 at night, she's STILL in the hallway, and I need to go home to eat and put Elise to bed. After we get all that done, I'm exhausted, so Fred goes back up to the hospital to spend some time with my Mom. It's now 10:00 pm, and she's still sitting in the hallway of the ER.

Thankfully, they get her into a room before she was discharged, and ends up staying for three days. I am so mad at that first doc who didn't listen to my Mom, and even madder at myself for not listening to my gut.

And because every story should have a moral (or two), here are mine:

Listen to your gut (duh)

You make sure you buy travel medical insurance when you travel to another country. Do it. Don't argue with me and don't be a dummy about it. I shudder to think of what it would have cost my Mom if she didn't have it. I'm betting it would have been cheaper to fly her back to Vancouver first class, than to admit her to the hospital.

So now you know why things have been so quiet around here lately. You don't think I finally just decided to shut up, did you?

Edited to add: I forgot to say one very important thank you to my sweet friend, Liz, for bringing us dinner when we were in the midst of all of this, and for bringing my Mom flowers when she went to visit her in the hospital. So, thank you Liz... you have no idea how much you blessed us!