There are times that I wish our doctor lived with us. This evening Donny started acting like his ammonia levels were elevated. I know for a fact that he took his lactulose, I watched him drink it. The dosage must not be right.
The problem is, by the time we go see the doctor he'll be fine. That leaves me looking like an overreacting wife when I insist that his mental status was altered. The only thing that I have going for me is the fact that the doctor knows me, and trusts me. Hopefully he'll believe me when I describe what's going on.
With any luck there will be a change in meds. I'm hoping that the altered mental status isn't a permanent thing. If it is then there may come a time that I can't care for Donny at home. I hate the thought, but just today was bad enough to make me wonder what to do.
On the bright side, my mom might get to come home in the next day or two. She's doing much better, but she started a new medication and they want to monitor her on it for a couple days to see how it's going.
New meds are always scary. At one point my mom was on so many psych meds that she was a zombie. For two years she barely qualified as being alive, and she had no quality of life. My mom, who's always been the out going, lively one, was doing nothing but sit there and stare out in space or lay in bed and stare out in space.
When my sister decided that she'd had enough, it took two paper grocery bags to carry my mom's meds. A really great doctor helped us get her off of almost everything, but we're now a little leery of new meds. The good thing is that my mom has a great medical doctor (finally) who will take a look at what she's been given and help us understand it. And we know that never again will we allow one med to be prescribed on top of another to the point that it gets out of control. It may have taken a while, but we've learned to ask questions.