My mom's fine, and pretty amazingly tough. She called 911 on Monday morning, pretty much collapsed from passing blood due to a tiny ulcer, went into the hospital in Rhinelander and by Wednesday was home and looking pretty good.
They did an endoscopy and found the ulcer, then put her on prilosec and pumped her full of fluids with an IV for a few days.
By yesterday morning she was working with me in her yard, telling me what to do and helping me plant vegetables and flowers in her raised beds.
If the second doctor says it's OK, she's going on a trip to Ireland next week.
She's got some pretty amazing healing abilities, even more so considering she's 82. In the last ten years I've seen her bounce back from rotator cuff surgery, the first set of bleeding ulcers and a whole bunch of setbacks like my sister having a series of strokes.
She must have good genes, I hope I got some of them.
She chased me out yesterday, told me I could go home about a half dozen times, I think after three days of having an IV and blood drawn every four hours and being in a beeping, nurse filled sleep deprivation inducing hospital she wanted some alone time. I can understand that. I hate hospitals. But folks in Catholic hospitals like little old ladies better than big scary queers like me.