It’s Wednesday so we’ll add to our story.

Here’s where we left off.

As Mom appeared in the kitchen and sat down at the dining room table, I hardly recognized her. How did she age so much in just a few weeks? What was going on?  …

The nurse in me led to tackling the parade of orange bottles sitting over the sink. Certainly, some of them, no, most of them, were probably Dad’s. I figured I would weed them out and take them down to the pharmacy for disposal.

Sure enough, the first five or so were Dad’s. But there were still a number of bottles left, along with aspirin and vitamins. They were for Mom.

Okay, potassium. That make sense. After all Mom is 76 years old.

Metformin. Well that must be for her diabetes.

All right, furosemide, a diuretic. Makes sense.

Whoa. Norvasc. I know Mom has high blood pressure, but that seems like a pretty potent dose.

Huh? More high blood pressure meds? Lisinopril?

What in the world is this? Aricept. Isn’t that for dementia? When was Mom diagnosed with dementia?

“Mom. Mom.” I called out.

“Yes, dear.

“Have you been taking your meds?”

“Yes,” she said confidently. I looked at the bottles again. When I checked fill dates, the pills used didn’t match.

“Are you sure?” I asked as I carried the handful of bottles into the living room. “I haven’t seen you taking any pills since I’ve been here.”

“You just didn’t see me,” she responded, flicking her hand dismissively.

I sat down next to her. “Mom. What’s going on? What are these all for?”

“I don’t know,” she said candidly. “The doctor said I needed to take these, so I do.”

“But do you know why? Do you know what you’re being treated for? What’s the Aricept for? Are you being treated for dementia?”

“No. No.” she said. “I forget some things sometimes. These are just to help me remember.”

“Well, how are you feeling?” I continued.

“I’m tired … real tired.”

She also looked a little pale, so I pulled out my stethoscope to take her blood pressure. Even though she balked at first, she let me take it. 88/52. Too low. Much too low. No wonder she looks pale and is so tired.

“Okay, Monday I’m calling Dr. Gibson. I need to know how you’re doing and what you’re being treated for,” I told her.

Sheepishly, she responded, “Whatever…”

There you go. Where do we go from here?

Interest — and feedback — seems to be waning, so I think we’re going to wrap this up over the next week or two.  Do you have any thoughts? Are there any other storylines we should clean up?

You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the story thus far. I’ve had fun. Let me know.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Most things people fail to do are caused by failure to start.