emotional train wreck

Two weeks ago on Friday morning I took mama to the hospital for same day surgery. She had been in considerable pain for weeks (if not months) and it had been determined that her gall bladder was not functioning at all and had to be removed. Three tiny incisions. In and out the same day.
The wait was far longer than the twenty or so minutes we had been told. Mama’s friends were there to keep me company. The doctor came in to see us after the two hour mark had come and gone. Something in his face had me worried before he even started speaking. "Her liver was very "sick". It was a mess in there. Nothing looked "normal". The ducts are enlarged. Her pancreas and liver don’t look good. We have sent pathology but we need more tests. We are admitting her."
Everything inside of me began to shake. Both of her friends left after all one has a severe heart condition herself and the other is 85 years old, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell HER that. The nurse came and told me that I should come back to the recovery room to be with her as it would be a while before a room was found for her.
I was shocked when I saw her. It seemed as if she had shrunk somehow in the few hours since I had hugged and kissed her. Her skin was so very pale, almost bloodless and her lips were covered in dried blood and swollen. I grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the blood. I asked the nurse what had happened and she seemed puzzled. "Well I can guarantee you that she didn’t look like this when you wheeled her out of the room". It was determined that her lips had been pinched by the breathing tube that was inserted. I got some lip balm and did my best to rehydrate her poor lips. Six hours after they wheeled her in for surgery we were finally in a room.
She was in a LOT of pain. Days with no food or liquids followed due to the tests she had to have. When she was allowed to have anything it was either "clear liquid" or "soft". Mama now swears if she ever sees another cup of broth or anything remotely like Jello she will vomit.
I spent the lion’s share of the next week at the hospital. I asked questions and heard "I don’t know. The Dr. didn’t put that in his notes or orders" so often that I wanted to scream. I finally called a patient advocate and we got a little more information. I wish that doctors would realize that "I don’t know" is not a sin. I can respect ignorance. It is the absence of any information that is CRIMINAL.
We then went through two days of absolute HELL. The worst diarrhea I have ever seen. In all I think there were 22 episodes in 36 hours. Most of the time a full or partial bath was required. I was exhausted and being woke every hour or so was not helping. The doctor finally told us that he was afraid when he had performed the surgery that he was seeing cancer. He wanted to transfer mama to the "main" hospital for more tests. The nurse came in and removed the IV and asked how we were getting her to the other facility. I knew I must have looked at her strangely because she asked, "Private vehicle or ambulance?" My mother had only been about 3 hours without a MAJOR intestinal issue and there was NO way I was going to haul her around because 1) if they put her in my car then they are RELEASING her and absolving themselves legally from her care until she is readmitted to other hospital and 2) I couldn’t drive AND make sure she wasn’t "floating" (to be delicate) in something I don’t even want to think about. Dr didn’t write an order for ambulance and I threw a FIT. "Order it or she isn’t moving." Mama was fretting about insurance and being a bother. "I DO NOT CARE if it isn’t covered. I will pay for it. Just order it"
She arrived safely and settled in for 3 more days of tests and Jello. I watched her grow paler and weaker with each tick of the clock. More tests. No stones. No cancer.
Six days after her "same day surgery" mama was released. My sister had been adamant that mama go to her house to recover even though it is an hour away. I went home and introduced myself to my family and promptly fell into a coma. On Friday mama was still very weak but seemed to be feeling a bit better. Very early Saturday morning I received a frantic call from my sister.
Mama was in a LOT of pain, belly and shoulder pain. I told her to take her to the ER thinking she would take her to the small hospital close to her house. Instead my niece broke land speed records and took  her to the hospital where the initial surgery was performed. That was a total fiasco. Nurse didn’t help get mama out of the car or get a gurney as requested. They put her in a wheelchair and left her in the hall. There was ONE other patient in ER at the time. They never assessed her condition. Finally my sister (who is meek to the point of barely speaking) was so livid that she wheeled mama out into the parking lot and got her back in the car and drove her to the main hospital.
There they did x-rays and gave pain medication. Their initial fear was a blood clot. While the tests were being done I made a call to the other hospital and let them know that their campaign for excellence "STRIVE FOR FIVE" was an EPIC FAILURE. I still see red when I think about it.
They readmitted her to hospital. Three doctors were ships passing in the night. One wouldn’t give information if it was the other’s specialty. I wanted to bang my head against a wall. They were also giving her a blood thinner which meant painful injections in the belly every 8 hours. My poor mama looked like she had survived a car crash, but only barely.
Abscesses on her liver had them very concerned. It was finally determined that her liver count was up because of all the procedures and general "mucking about" in her belly. A bowel leak was feared but ruled out.
FINALLY after 12 days in the hospital they released her on Friday evening. I brought her home to her own bed. I unpacked for her and got her settled and then made a quick trip to the grocery store for her. She tireseasily and is still sore from the surgery.
I am still shaky emotionally. I was so scared when they used the word "cancer". I cried a LOT of silent tears because I didn’t want to let her know that I was upset. Mostly I was on autopilot taking care of her. I slept in the clothes I wore during the day because I never knew when I would have to run down the hall. I would be yanked from a sound sleep when she weakly called my name or said "OH DEAR". Then by the time she was settled back down to sleep I was too wound up to sit down much less sleep.
I am still not on a normal schedule. I am not sleeping well. I am still terrified that something will happen to my mother. I absolutely cannot even think about the possibility of losing her. This is probably a jumbled mess but that is the way my life has been for the last two weeks. We survived and that is about it!