They've got her kidneys, heart, and lungs working as good as possible, though there is permanent damage. The reality, unfortunately, is that where she currently is IS her reality, most likely for the rest of her life. Very much heart breaking. She's only 59 for pete's sake, not 89. They're moving her from the ICU today to Vibra in Portland for a 30 day stay, as Pacific Specialty is obviously not taking care of her. As they put it, "they can't keep up with her current needs." Terrifying to know that she has no option BUT to return to Pacific Specialty after one month, although they ignored the fact that she lost all grip with reality, couldn't stay awake, had one half of her body double in size, etc., for THREE DAYS and still almost wouldn't allow my brother to arrange for her to go to the hospital. The doctors discovered that everything was the result of kidney failure, deadly high levels of potassium, and dangerously high levels of CO2. This, of course, isn't taking into consideration the massive amounts of dirt and grime all over her body, the alarming amount of peeling and dead skin, the obvious evidence of no teeth brushing in DAAAAYs, etc.
Alas, there's one more issue. Because of all of her hospital stays and such, she's suffered.... a psychotic break of sorts. Although everything has been corrected to the point where the ICU had sent her back to Pacific Specialty the last visit she had (only a month ago), and she has woken up from her heavy sedation, she has noooo freaking clue where she is. She experiences frequent bouts of panic and severe depression, followed by elation and stern problem-solving skill-ing, in about a fifteen second rotation. She thankfully still recognizes my brother and I, though whenever we ask her if she knows where she is and why, we get varying answers. She's at a party at Richard's (whoever that is), she's in Longview, she's at a bar. When I visited her recently, she gave me serious instructions as to how to rearrange the furniture in the ICU, shortly before she requested I roll down the windows. She insisted I take her down the hall to investigate, seemed repeatedly surprised at her garb, and tried to smoke her trach filter like a bong.
It would be borderline amusing, if there wasn't a massive fear that this is how she's going to be for the rest of her life.
The doctor says that they see this happen occasionally, because of a long period of being half naked, having zero privacy, and having a rotating cast of complete strangers interrupting your existence continually to prod and poke at you.
Meanwhile, we're still holding onto her apartment. This may change soon, though, as her roommate/boyfriend/thing has apparently been getting into a severe feud with one of the neighbors and the cops are called a LOT, several times a week. The apartments are in a small complex, about ten apartments, and are owned by a man who doesn't follow traditional rules that larger property management companies do. From working in property management for a couple of years, I know that most other places will serve you an eviction notice after the first police involvement. Even with the slightly different rules, I'm terrified and highly irritated that Phil may lose the apartment before we have a chance and opportunity to deal with Mom's belongings. Yes, yes, Mom hasn't been home since March 8th, but we have been holding onto the hope that she would be able to return one day.
This, it seems, is no longer possible.