Yesterday afternoon, I took Mother to the hospital to have routine mammogram screenings. Last year, at age 85, she had mammograms for the first time in her life. She found out then that the screenings aren't as bad as she'd dreaded, so she wasn't as jittery about them this year.
Still, Mother is a Nervous Nelly around doctors and hospitals, and yesterday was no exception. When the receptionist asked for her birth date, she turned to me with a completely blank expression on her face. I quickly supplied the date. "Well," Mother laughed, "at least I still remember my name."
Small wonder that she gets a bit stressed about medical procedures. Last year, the mammogram technician somehow got a fold in the one on Mother's left side, making for a funky reading that had to be repeated. This year, the tech managed to fold one tip under so that the screening had to be done again.
Last fall, when we all went to get flu and pneumonia vaccines, the nurse inadvertently gave Mother two flu shots instead of a flu shot and a pneumonia shot. She suffered no real ill effects, but a thing like that can make anybody skittish.
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