Rollercoaster Trip to NJ

We got back last night from our trip to New Jersey. We went up to see my two aunts and my grandma. We knew as of the day after Christmas that my grandma would be in the hospital when we got there. My aunts had taken her there because she was having severe symptoms of a bleeding ulcer. I'll spare you the details. She had also been having some occurrences of hallucinations, but they were nothing to worry about, according to the psychiatrist, who had some lengthy explanation as to why she was not psychotic. Something about peripheral vision and the brain filling in gaps. That didn't fly with any of us, but whatever.

She got into the hospital and was treated for the ulcers. Yes, ulcers plural. The chemotherapy she's been on for the last two years has been eating holes in her stomach. She had had ulcers for years, but the chemical assault on her body has exacerbated the problem. She began to hallucinate more, and was clearly losing her grip on reality.

When we got to the hospital on Thursday, she was very agitated, rambling and babbling about things that only she could see. Every now and again, she'd have flashes of reality (almost). She was struggling to get out of her chair, which she couldn't do because there was a food tray bolted across it. She was tugging at it a bit, but then stopped, looked me square in the eye, and said, "Justin, help me lift this, I can't carry it." She thought it was some sort of box that was on top of her, but yet she recognized me and called me by name. She did the same to my dad, clearly calling him Harry.

Then she went on about people in the ceiling, clowns in the wall, and gynecologists taking pictures. Looking back on it, that last one was a bit amusing.

None of the doctors knew what the others were doing. The neurologist didn't know what the psychiatrist had said, neither knew what the oncologist had been doing to treat her...It was a flaming mess, and I think my aunts are going to try to have her transferred to a different hospital, where my Aunt Maryanne works. That's probably a good move. The psychiatrist finally evaluated my grandma properly (upon being urged by my Aunt Tricia), and concluded that yes, she was having psychotic episodes. Thank you, Captain Obvious. She's on medication now which is bringing her a bit closer to reality, but the road ahead is not an easy one.

Aside from the emotional trip to the hospital, it was a good visit. Aunt Mare has a new dog, another golden retriever. He's a bit mischievious, but he's cute, so we'll let him get away with it. We exchanged gifts and had a good old time, trying to keep our minds off of the situation with grandma for a while. That sounds horrible, but my aunts have been dealing with all of this for a while now, and it's wearing on them, physically and emotionally. We tried to have some fun. It worked as well as it could, but almost every conversation centered on Grandma.

I'm glad to be home, I suppose. Part of me wanted to stay in NJ, but I realized there really is no point. We're playing a waiting game, waiting for doctors to make up their minds, waiting for the moment of clarity for my mom and her sisters to know what to do with their mother, waiting for any news of anything.

Here's to hoping the new year brings better news. Happy 2006.