I was upstairs in my bedroom, happily skypeing with my darling boyfriend (nothing too risque, of course, I think we were discussing modern performance art...) when my phone starts buzzing. It's Grandma. From downstairs.
She was at a PEO party and forgot to use her oxygen tank for pretty much all of it. This means that when she arrived home she was exhausted, cranky, short of breath, and scared shitless. Her companions wouldn't leave until they knew I was home and aware of the whole situation, so I had to drag my ass out of bed and throw on a bathrobe and socialize with well-to-do do-gooders past my bedtime.
They were charming, but I was not amused. Grandma was pretending to be a hostess, gasping at her tubing, desperate for air and trying to converse like nothing was wrong. So much for all that proud huffing and puffing about testing her lungs. Everybody has to breathe.
Her pulse/ox was at 86% when she got home. I made her sit and sip water and breathe until it hit 98% and then I followed her upstairs, where she spent nearly fifteen minutes in the bathroom, after which she declared that she was "backed up at both ends!" determined that to be the source of all her problems and sprayed the room freshener like hell. When it rains, it pours!
Cross your fingers she doesn't spend the night mouth breathing and snoring. Yeesh!
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