Eston farm girls are hardy stock. Up with a walker, sitting in the patient lounge, blowing into her spirometer like there is a prize if the ball hits the top. Let me tell ya – epidural morphine is God’s gift to the post op patient.  I told her I was pretty disappointed that they gave her an epidural as it robbed me of my Shirley McLain moment from Terms of Endearment; I so wanted to run down the hall and bang my fists on the nursing station screaming ” Give my mother her morphine!”

She was not amused.

She spent the day observing the antics of a challenging patient who apparently brought in her own narcotics and was really really angry that nursing would not let her take them. Screaming obscenities at staff, security called in. ” Better than a soap opera” said my mom.

She woke up from the anesthetic with a tremendous appetite.  I brought up two donuts from Tim’s   “in case you get hungry tonight”. She literally ripped the bag out of my hand and stuffed a donut in her mouth. Well all righty then.

She has her glasses, her teeth, and her beloved crossword book so our services are no longer required. ” No point in sitting here staring at me” she said. Yes ma’am I replied and exited stage right 🙂

She is a little pissed that she has lung cancer. And a little surprised as she was feeling perfectly healthy up till now. “Are you sure I have lung cancer?” she asked the surgeon when he made rounds. “It’s not like I feel the urge to run across Canada”. Ah yes, as I have learned with my own boys, sarcasm is a hereditary trait.