The Bug On The Ceiling

It finally happened.  Mom took a tumble and broke something – and it wasn’t furniture.  It was the humerus in her left arm.  Mom’s been pretty lucky with all the falls she’s had over the last few years, so when we called the EMTs and had her taken to the emergency room to make sure nothing was broken, in our minds, it was only as a precaution.  Except this time her luck ran out.  Fortunately, it was the type of break that didn’t require a cast, but it did mean that she needed to wear a sling 24 hours a day until it healed.

Before they took her into X-ray, they made her comfortable on a gurney and gave her a dose of morphine because they were going to have to move her arm around to take pictures and they wanted to dull the pain somewhat.  I waited with her in the emergency room cubical while the shot took hold.  A few minutes after she’d been dosed up, she turned to me and said, “You know, these dizzy spells just seem to sneak up on me.”

“Well, maybe the doctors here can figure out what’s causing them,” I replied.

“Maybe.  I know they’re going to take pictures of my head.”

“You mean a CAT scan?” I asked.

“That’s the one.  But, for instance, right now I’m feeling kind of swoozie,” she continued.


“Yes.  See that metal thing on the wall up there?” she asked, pointing to the wall above the curtain covering the cubical entryway.

“Do you mean the air conditioning vent?”

“Yes, that.  Well, it’s just waving back and forth and back and forth,” she said, waving her hand like Queen Elizabeth.  “It’s what I’m talking about.  The dizziness just comes out of nowhere.”

“Mom,” I asked, trying not to laugh, “do you think it might be the morphine kicking in?”

“Oh.  Well I guess there’s that too,” she said with a glassy-eyed grin.  “But it could have been a tipsy spell.”

There was a momentary pause, and then she turned to me and asked, “Then, I suppose that big black spot on the ceiling may not really be a bug.”

I looked up and the only spot I saw was a small, round green sticker.  I stood up from my chair and walked around her gurney to stand directly under the ‘big black bug’ on the ceiling.  “Do you mean this dot?” I asked, pointing up at the green sticker.

“Yes.  Be careful, it’s moving around,” she warned, squinting upward.

“Nope, it’s not.  It’s just a little sticker.  No bugs, just drugs,” I said with a chuckle.

“Very funny,” she said with a smile.  “But it might have been a bug if they hadn’t given me the morphine.”

“Yes, Mom, I suppose it could have been,” I replied, patting her hand and giving her a kiss on the cheek.


4 Comments on “The Bug On The Ceiling”

  1. whoa..take care of mom..wish i still had mine..anyway..if there is any morphine left over you can send it to have deep throats address.

  2. Karen Riley says:

    Hate to hear this about Aunt Elaine. First Aunt Jan, now the middle Carpenter girl. Hope she heals quickly. Thanks for sharing her Aunt Elaine’s blissful slide into morphine-induced euphoria!

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