Tuesday November 19, 2013
While I realize it's been almost 2 months, or maybe it has been, the time has just absolutely flown by.
This post is to update everyone - all over the WORLD - who have been praying for Mom (and Dad).
The last I wrote, Mom had 4 radiation treatments left, and we were going to begin to wean her off from the steroids. The tumor is aggressive and we were going to treat it aggressively.
We stuck to that plan, Mom finished her chemo and radiation treatments on schedule. We were hoping to begin a round of intravenous chemo as well - the chemo she had just finished was pill form.
She was also successfully weaned off of her steroids.
In the middle of September, she began having seizures. Long ones. These ultimately led to another admission to the hospital. Thus began the balancing act of all of her meds. Dad and her doctors had to balance her meds for her heart, her cancer, her depression, and now seizures. Her platelets were low, and she had fluid buildup on the brain.
We got the seizures under control, got the meds all figured out, but with her platelet count so low, she was no longer a candidate for more chemo, or any other aggressive treatment. So, we waited for her platelet count to come back up - we were still going to fight!
In the beginning of October, Mom was diagnosed with Pneumocystis. Pneumocystis is a form of Pneumonia that greatly affects people with compromised immune systems - especially cancer patients. So we had two weeks of more steroids and antibiotics.
All the while, Mom's tumor is still growing (we can only assume), at least, it wasn't shrinking and we are unable to treat the tumor because we are being sent on all kinds of rabbit trails (seizures, infection), and in the meantime, Mom is growing weaker and weaker.
She can no longer walk without assistance - she uses a walker to get around. She needs assistance with bathing, fixing food, using the restroom, etc. She is sleeping more and more. She cannot position herself in bed - it takes Dad or another person to help her get comfortable so she can rest properly. An ever-increasingly taxing job to care for her at home.
When she was in the hospital for Pneumocystis, one of her physicians recommended Hospice.
The word.
Hospice.
I think hospice has a stigma - we all know what hospice really means.
But for those of us who have never used hospice services, the stigma may be unfair.
We met with a caseworker and decided to admit Mom into hospice care on October 14th. We were hoping for some help at home with Mom on a regular basis - but we quickly learned that it would still be up to us to care for her - that hospice's focus would be on her comfort and making sure that she is comfortable and happy for as long as she can be.
Over the course of the next 4 weeks, Mom's meds were adjusted to give her clarity and freedom from "fogginess", shakiness and that feeling like she's going to "tip over". Mom got stronger - much stronger than we had seen her in weeks. We met some amazing hospice workers - and Mom made some new friends and connections. The hospice personnel that we met and that worked with Mom were nothing short of angels.
We took turns caring for Mom, day in and day out. Dad got the hardest shifts - the night time.
We watched her have amazingly good days. Days where she laughed, remembered most things from her life, and even some things from just the day before (which was nearly never at that point). She was almost "speedy" with her walker, and the shakes were gone.
We also watched her have terribly hard days. Days where she sobbed for hours - seemingly having a full understanding of what was happening to her. We watched her try to understand what she was facing, what she was going to have to endure. She would ask the same questions, having forgotten the answers she was given just moments before.
And then repeat the process the very next day. We never knew until she woke up what kind of day it would be.
Over time, her appetite gravely decreased. She began to walk slower and slower. She struggled to position herself on the couch, or in bed. She was seemingly more and more confused about simple things. And this seemed to change daily.
My Dad and I had a conversation on his porch just a couple of weeks ago. It seemed eerie that she had been doing so well. So well, in fact, that we were once again, cautiously optimistic about the near future. All the while, we were very much enjoying the good days that were at hand.
And then this past Saturday, she fell. After taking a nap, she got up, as she normally did, to use the bathroom before joining my dad in the living room, and she fell.
After hearing the "THUD", my dad and Aunt who was visiting rushed to Mom's room to find her on the floor. Dad laid on the floor with her trying to assess the situation, to see what, or if she could move, if she could get up, anything.
While waiting for the hospice nurse to come, Dad dead-lifted Mom onto the bed, where they laid until the nurse finally showed.
An ambulance was called and Mom was taken to the hospital. After tests and scans, it was determined that she has compound fractures in at least 3 of her vertebrae.
At first we were told that she would be in a back brace for many months. Well, knowing she was in hospice care, we weren't sure she had "many" months. And how are we supposed to care for her if she is predominantly immobile? And what kind of quality of life is that for her?
Well, her doctors had a solution that would all but eliminate her pain - at least for now. So, yesterday she had surgery on her fractured vertebrae. I believe she will still need a brace, but not for nearly as long as she would have without the surgery.
The answer to our questions about how we care for her now was glaring - staring us right in the face. A hard reality that I'm sure will take some time to "sink in" and "forgive", at least for me.
Mom was admitted to an inpatient hospice care facility just yesterday.
Dad talked with her at the hospital and told her that she will most likely never return home, and that this is the place she will find her final rest.
He said she took it well, and understands that we can no longer care for her at home on our own. He said she understands that it was the right decision to make.
That doesn't make it any easier to handle.
I can only imagine the feelings going through my dad's mind - I won't even go there.
As her daughter, I feel helpless as well.
I haven't had the opportunity to visit the facility yet, but Dad says it's beautiful. I've read Facebook comments from her sisters who received texted pictures of Mom from Dad with Mom's big smiling face.
That last sentence takes me to another place - a place that I'm not ready to go yet. I'm going to focus now on her face, her smile. And I will do my best to visit all that I can, to bring her cheer, and as much happiness in what time she has left.
The holidays are quickly approaching. She loves the holidays. I want to be with her for the holidays, and I intend to figure out ways to bring the holidays to her.
These next weeks, months, or however long we have left will be the most trying.
Please continue to pray for peace - for Mom and for Dad. Please wrap your arms around them so they know they are safe.
Thank you for your continued support through all of this. As things progress I will do my best to update.
Showing posts with label prayers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayers. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
In Dad's Words, "Get Me Off This Ride!"
Thursday July 18, 2013
While I realize it's been a month since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Not only with Mom, but in my own personal life as well. Finding the time to actually sit, much less sit and write has been difficult.
But it's time. It's time to update.
I can't thank you all enough for coming here as often as you do to read the updates. So many of you depend on this blog for updates on your friend, sister, mom, colleague - whomever she is to you, and it means so much to us.
The last update was titled Fear Has Crept In, and it was accompanied by A Lesson On The Brain. At that time, we were still just learning about this monster, and what it was doing to our Mom, sister and wife.
We are still learning.
But boy have we learned a lot.
Mom spent 3 whole weeks at Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation.
In those three weeks, Mom had many triumphs, and some setbacks as well.
And so did Dad.
The first two weeks were pretty "normal" if you can call them that. By normal I just mean routine: wake up, therapy, rest, lunch, therapy, rest, dinner, consult, visitors, etc. Next day: repeat.
She was originally scheduled to come home on Tuesday July 2nd. But on Saturday June 29, Mom had a seizure.
And then she cried, inconsolably, for almost 3 days.
And it was just her & dad.
For three days.
Dad called Mom's sisters to let them know what had happened. But to alert the rest of us would've brought on a "phone storm" i.e. calls, texts, messages, questions - that he just couldn't; physically, mentally, emotionally couldn't handle.
So we found out mid-week what he had just gone through.
He was also protecting us from seeing her in such a state as he himself had never seen before.
Dad had learned in those few days a little more about this monster they call GBM.
He learned she will most likely never be cancer free, and there is no cure for this disease.
He learned that this will most likely kill her. When? They can't say. But we can read statistics. Statistically, every day we have with her now is a blessing.
I say most likely, but they spoke more in absolutes. I hate absolutes. Especially in this case.
He and Mom talked about her options. She wants to try chemo and radiation.
And that's a whole other animal.
Every person is different, but still. It's chemo and radiation.
Mom said that she will decide when she has had enough.
On the side and away from Mom's earshot, Dad asked the question that I'm sure every first-time Stage 4 Cancer family might ask... How will my wife finally pass? Will she be in pain? Will she be suffering? What can I expect?
The answer he received was as gentle, but honest as I'm sure we could expect.
He was told that the brain doesn't feel pain, but it senses pain for the rest of the body. If you were to pinch Mom, she would feel it, but only because her brain told her body to feel it.
As this progresses, her brain will slowly lose the function to sense pain for the rest of her body.
He was told that most patients pass while they're sleeping, or they at least pass quietly, and that it isn't painful.
But what about the weeks and days before that moment?
Well, that is yet to be determined, but again, there are statistics, and every person is different. We will take things one day at a time and give her as much comfort and reassurance as we can.
On Thursday, the Fourth of July, I spent about 3 hours with her & Dad.
I sat through her therapy, in both awe and disbelief at what I was seeing. I was so proud of her, as I would be watching my own children accomplish things they couldn't just a few weeks before. But I was also sad. I was viewing my mom as "childlike". I tried to chalk it up to the cycle of life. Aren't kids supposed to care for their parents in later life? Isn't that the natural cycle of life? But this was different. She's not 90 years old. She's not even 60 yet. This monster has come and stolen my mother's personality and most of any resemblance of the woman I used to know. Sure, we see glimpses now & then, but overall, she's just so different.
We talked about the rough week she had had with her seizure and all the crying she did.
She understood what happened, but it was all a fog for her. She was on so many medications, that trying to remember was near impossible for her.
She kept saying that she felt "foggy" and she didn't want to be so "foggy". She wanted to think clearly, and to be able to enjoy things like she used to. She was looking for a moment of clarity.
So I gave her one.
I recently became engaged, and I hadn't shown her my engagement ring yet. So, I walked up to her and held out my hand to show her.
She gently grabbed my hand, held it to her face, and started crying.
Happy tears.
Finally!
And then she didn't let go.
I sat next to her and her gaze went from my hand to my face, and back. She said she was so happy for me, and it was everything she wanted - just to see me happy.
We held each other for a few minutes, and she wiped her tears. She loved that moment.
And so did I.
Well, the seizure had also postponed her chemo consult with her Oncologist.
And her homecoming.
So we looked for little things coming up that she could be excited for.
The next day, July 5th, she came home.
Home.
For good.
For now.
As she got used to the comforts of home, she also had to learn how to get around, and be more independent than she was used to. She has her best friend there with her every day to assist, but each day she made progress. Big or small, it was all progress.
She made some meals by herself. She carried her coffee through the house, walking unassisted. She gets up and gets what she needs from the kitchen without help. She goes outside to sit on their shade porch for fresh air.
Either her best friend or Dad takes her for walks every day to keep her blood flowing, and to help her get some fresh air. This also helps to keep her somewhat limber and alert. Plus, she loves the outdoors. And she can play frisbee with her dog - a pastime she has always loved.
Last week, she had her chemo consult and they decided to start her chemo on the 23rd of July.
After the consult, Mom said she felt like she has some hope and something to live for. Not just a death sentence.
She also got fitted for her mask for radiation:
As the temperature rises (heat index over 100 degrees) in the heat of summer, Mom and Dad don't have Air Conditioning. Dad also told me that their refrigerator quit working, and they were reduced to using the spare, smaller one in the basement. Dad's lawn needed to be cut (the neighbor had done it for him the week before), and when he went to use the vacuum, he realized it was broken. He had a mountain of bills to scour through - most had been opened, some had not. They come in droves these days; too fast for Dad to keep up with. Here's the link to Mom's Fundraiser, should you feel the desire to help financially.
He was having a very rough week, to put it mildly.
Each day, he goes to work and comes home to the huge stack of bills that keep coming. He assists with Mom to give her best friend a break. There's information overload, appointments to make, and keep, phone calls to make, and return, dinner, laundry, and conversation with Mom that is repetitive and sometimes exhausting... when you're already beyond exhausted.
He does it all with a smile, and wakes up the next morning to do it all again. She is his best friend in this whole world. She is his life partner, his beautiful bride whom he loves and cherishes more than anything. No matter the circumstances, he will love her and care for her until the end.
But Dad needed a break too.
My fiance went to the house on Friday to mow Dad's yard and touch up the landscaping a little. While he was there, Mom's best friend told him that Dad could really use a break and asked if there was anything he and I could do to help out.
So on Saturday my fiance and I took Dad golfing. We didn't give him the option to say no, or to tell us that he had things he needed to get done.
We started with 9 holes. We didn't talk about Mom, or bills, or work. We just laughed. We had a few beers, enjoyed the amazing weather, and let Dad take a load off.
9 holes turned into 18. We had so much fun! It was SO good to see Dad laugh and enjoy himself, and us - something - as we hadn't seen that in a while.
I'll admit I was sad when we dropped him back off at home. I was sad because he had to go right back to his "new" life. I feared he was beginning to resent his situation. We had so much fun, but he had to return to reality. I wanted so badly to take him away longer.
But he was happy as a clam. The reset button had been set, and the next time I spoke with him he had organized the bills, made phone calls and taken care of some things he hadn't the energy to do before.
Someone had anonymously sent them a room air conditioning unit. He said it brought the temperature in their house from the 90's to the low 80's.
He also shared with me that Mom's latest MRI had shown some tumor regrowth already.
So they started chemo and radiation a week early.
Mom is now walking with a cane so that she doesn't have to hold the walls to get around. This is a little more freedom for her.
So she will do 30 days of radiation and chemo. And another "new" routine ensues.
So far, she has not felt any ill effects of the treatments. This is wonderful news!
Her goal is to make it to my wedding... on her birthday - August 1st of this year.
We chose that date for many reasons, but the fact that it's on her birthday and she will be able to come is an extra blessing.
After the wedding, we will have new goals for her. Daily goals, weekly goals, and longer goals.
I have some projects up my sleeve that I'm going to give her this weekend to help keep her busy and involved in the planning of the wedding. I know this will bring great joy to her, and also help her stay task-oriented. It will help prevent her from wallowing or feeling "foggy". It will help to give her some purpose.
Amidst the storm, we have seen the sun. We have been amazingly blessed... and the blessings keep coming. Our family is overcome with emotion and gratitude to the people who have blessed us with a hand (or an air conditioner), time, kind words... everything.
Life is short. Life is precious. We are smelling the roses, although the ride won't stop to let us off. We will continue on as we have been, but please know that we cannot do it without the love, support and prayers of everyone out there who can't be here.
All I can say is "Thank You". From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
While I realize it's been a month since I last wrote, a lot has happened. Not only with Mom, but in my own personal life as well. Finding the time to actually sit, much less sit and write has been difficult.
But it's time. It's time to update.
I can't thank you all enough for coming here as often as you do to read the updates. So many of you depend on this blog for updates on your friend, sister, mom, colleague - whomever she is to you, and it means so much to us.
The last update was titled Fear Has Crept In, and it was accompanied by A Lesson On The Brain. At that time, we were still just learning about this monster, and what it was doing to our Mom, sister and wife.
We are still learning.
But boy have we learned a lot.
Mom spent 3 whole weeks at Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation.
In those three weeks, Mom had many triumphs, and some setbacks as well.
And so did Dad.
The first two weeks were pretty "normal" if you can call them that. By normal I just mean routine: wake up, therapy, rest, lunch, therapy, rest, dinner, consult, visitors, etc. Next day: repeat.
She was originally scheduled to come home on Tuesday July 2nd. But on Saturday June 29, Mom had a seizure.
And then she cried, inconsolably, for almost 3 days.
And it was just her & dad.
For three days.
Dad called Mom's sisters to let them know what had happened. But to alert the rest of us would've brought on a "phone storm" i.e. calls, texts, messages, questions - that he just couldn't; physically, mentally, emotionally couldn't handle.
So we found out mid-week what he had just gone through.
He was also protecting us from seeing her in such a state as he himself had never seen before.
Dad had learned in those few days a little more about this monster they call GBM.
He learned she will most likely never be cancer free, and there is no cure for this disease.
He learned that this will most likely kill her. When? They can't say. But we can read statistics. Statistically, every day we have with her now is a blessing.
I say most likely, but they spoke more in absolutes. I hate absolutes. Especially in this case.
He and Mom talked about her options. She wants to try chemo and radiation.
And that's a whole other animal.
Every person is different, but still. It's chemo and radiation.
Mom said that she will decide when she has had enough.
On the side and away from Mom's earshot, Dad asked the question that I'm sure every first-time Stage 4 Cancer family might ask... How will my wife finally pass? Will she be in pain? Will she be suffering? What can I expect?
The answer he received was as gentle, but honest as I'm sure we could expect.
He was told that the brain doesn't feel pain, but it senses pain for the rest of the body. If you were to pinch Mom, she would feel it, but only because her brain told her body to feel it.
As this progresses, her brain will slowly lose the function to sense pain for the rest of her body.
He was told that most patients pass while they're sleeping, or they at least pass quietly, and that it isn't painful.
But what about the weeks and days before that moment?
Well, that is yet to be determined, but again, there are statistics, and every person is different. We will take things one day at a time and give her as much comfort and reassurance as we can.
On Thursday, the Fourth of July, I spent about 3 hours with her & Dad.
I sat through her therapy, in both awe and disbelief at what I was seeing. I was so proud of her, as I would be watching my own children accomplish things they couldn't just a few weeks before. But I was also sad. I was viewing my mom as "childlike". I tried to chalk it up to the cycle of life. Aren't kids supposed to care for their parents in later life? Isn't that the natural cycle of life? But this was different. She's not 90 years old. She's not even 60 yet. This monster has come and stolen my mother's personality and most of any resemblance of the woman I used to know. Sure, we see glimpses now & then, but overall, she's just so different.
We talked about the rough week she had had with her seizure and all the crying she did.
She understood what happened, but it was all a fog for her. She was on so many medications, that trying to remember was near impossible for her.
She kept saying that she felt "foggy" and she didn't want to be so "foggy". She wanted to think clearly, and to be able to enjoy things like she used to. She was looking for a moment of clarity.
So I gave her one.
I recently became engaged, and I hadn't shown her my engagement ring yet. So, I walked up to her and held out my hand to show her.
She gently grabbed my hand, held it to her face, and started crying.
Happy tears.
Finally!
And then she didn't let go.
I sat next to her and her gaze went from my hand to my face, and back. She said she was so happy for me, and it was everything she wanted - just to see me happy.
We held each other for a few minutes, and she wiped her tears. She loved that moment.
And so did I.
Well, the seizure had also postponed her chemo consult with her Oncologist.
And her homecoming.
So we looked for little things coming up that she could be excited for.
The next day, July 5th, she came home.
Home.
For good.
For now.
As she got used to the comforts of home, she also had to learn how to get around, and be more independent than she was used to. She has her best friend there with her every day to assist, but each day she made progress. Big or small, it was all progress.
She made some meals by herself. She carried her coffee through the house, walking unassisted. She gets up and gets what she needs from the kitchen without help. She goes outside to sit on their shade porch for fresh air.
Either her best friend or Dad takes her for walks every day to keep her blood flowing, and to help her get some fresh air. This also helps to keep her somewhat limber and alert. Plus, she loves the outdoors. And she can play frisbee with her dog - a pastime she has always loved.
Last week, she had her chemo consult and they decided to start her chemo on the 23rd of July.
After the consult, Mom said she felt like she has some hope and something to live for. Not just a death sentence.
She also got fitted for her mask for radiation:
As the temperature rises (heat index over 100 degrees) in the heat of summer, Mom and Dad don't have Air Conditioning. Dad also told me that their refrigerator quit working, and they were reduced to using the spare, smaller one in the basement. Dad's lawn needed to be cut (the neighbor had done it for him the week before), and when he went to use the vacuum, he realized it was broken. He had a mountain of bills to scour through - most had been opened, some had not. They come in droves these days; too fast for Dad to keep up with. Here's the link to Mom's Fundraiser, should you feel the desire to help financially.
He was having a very rough week, to put it mildly.
Each day, he goes to work and comes home to the huge stack of bills that keep coming. He assists with Mom to give her best friend a break. There's information overload, appointments to make, and keep, phone calls to make, and return, dinner, laundry, and conversation with Mom that is repetitive and sometimes exhausting... when you're already beyond exhausted.
He does it all with a smile, and wakes up the next morning to do it all again. She is his best friend in this whole world. She is his life partner, his beautiful bride whom he loves and cherishes more than anything. No matter the circumstances, he will love her and care for her until the end.
But Dad needed a break too.
My fiance went to the house on Friday to mow Dad's yard and touch up the landscaping a little. While he was there, Mom's best friend told him that Dad could really use a break and asked if there was anything he and I could do to help out.
So on Saturday my fiance and I took Dad golfing. We didn't give him the option to say no, or to tell us that he had things he needed to get done.
We started with 9 holes. We didn't talk about Mom, or bills, or work. We just laughed. We had a few beers, enjoyed the amazing weather, and let Dad take a load off.
9 holes turned into 18. We had so much fun! It was SO good to see Dad laugh and enjoy himself, and us - something - as we hadn't seen that in a while.
I'll admit I was sad when we dropped him back off at home. I was sad because he had to go right back to his "new" life. I feared he was beginning to resent his situation. We had so much fun, but he had to return to reality. I wanted so badly to take him away longer.
But he was happy as a clam. The reset button had been set, and the next time I spoke with him he had organized the bills, made phone calls and taken care of some things he hadn't the energy to do before.
Someone had anonymously sent them a room air conditioning unit. He said it brought the temperature in their house from the 90's to the low 80's.
He also shared with me that Mom's latest MRI had shown some tumor regrowth already.
So they started chemo and radiation a week early.
Mom is now walking with a cane so that she doesn't have to hold the walls to get around. This is a little more freedom for her.
So she will do 30 days of radiation and chemo. And another "new" routine ensues.
So far, she has not felt any ill effects of the treatments. This is wonderful news!
Her goal is to make it to my wedding... on her birthday - August 1st of this year.
We chose that date for many reasons, but the fact that it's on her birthday and she will be able to come is an extra blessing.
After the wedding, we will have new goals for her. Daily goals, weekly goals, and longer goals.
I have some projects up my sleeve that I'm going to give her this weekend to help keep her busy and involved in the planning of the wedding. I know this will bring great joy to her, and also help her stay task-oriented. It will help prevent her from wallowing or feeling "foggy". It will help to give her some purpose.
Amidst the storm, we have seen the sun. We have been amazingly blessed... and the blessings keep coming. Our family is overcome with emotion and gratitude to the people who have blessed us with a hand (or an air conditioner), time, kind words... everything.
Life is short. Life is precious. We are smelling the roses, although the ride won't stop to let us off. We will continue on as we have been, but please know that we cannot do it without the love, support and prayers of everyone out there who can't be here.
All I can say is "Thank You". From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Fear Has Crept In
Wednesday June 19, 2013
I went to visit Mom today at Saint Mary's Rehabilitation Hospital.
I have to say that the second I walked in I could tell things were... different.
Before I get into today, let's see if I can manage some chronological order here:
Friday June 14 was her first day there.
The folks at my work were kind enough to let me work from Dad's house that day so I could do some laundry for them and bring up a fresh suitcase of clean comfies for Mom, as well as do anything around the house that needed to be done in preparation for her return.
Mom was being transported from Novi via ambulance, which is standard procedure for this sort of thing, and I decided I wanted to meet her & Dad at the hospital when they got there. I knew she was scared. I wanted her to see familiar faces when she arrived.
I spoke with her sisters throughout the day and asked them to meet us there as well. I felt that Mom would need all the love and support we could muster when she arrived.
So when she got there, we could tell immediately that she was exhausted, and very hungry. She kept referring to her ride there as one being in a "really big truck". Like, semi truck. We told her it was an ambulance, but she insisted it was a "really big truck". She slept most of the way there, and was probably pretty groggy.
None of us had seen her since she was admitted back into Novi the week before (Read that post), so we were all anxious to speak with her and find out how she was feeling and doing.
She was not allowed to get out of bed without a nurse. Under no circumstances was she allowed to do anything without a nurse present. She is a "fall risk".
We spent most of the late afternoon and evening there with her.
We met her doctor.
We asked a lot of questions.
We got answers to most of our questions.
Basically, she is in rehab for many reasons.
To learn to cope with her health condition, and the realities of her new way of life (mental rehab).
To learn to cope with her deficits from the tumor - surgery, brain trauma, and brain cancer - (physical/speech rehab).
To learn to be independent again, but differently than before.
To learn and understand how to live with this type of cancer, and the treatments that were to follow.
Rehab isn't just for her either. It is for us, her family, as well. We need to learn how to speak with her in a way that she can answer. We need to learn what her deficits are as well. We need to learn how to let her be independent; what she can do, and what she needs assistance to do.
We learned many things that first day.
We learned that her simple math and number knowledge had diminished. For example, her doctor drew a circle on a piece of paper. He then asked Mom, using the numbers 1-12 to draw what she thinks a clock would look like. She did her best, changed some things around a little, and like a school girl, proudly handed the "clock" back to her doctor.
The number 12 was where the number 9 or 10 would go. 1 was at the top where 12 would go, followed by 2, 3, and 4. After number 4 came number 7, and so on.
But man, was she proud of herself!
We learned that tasks, and the different steps we take to complete those tasks, were going to be difficult for her. She needed to remember how to do things, in which order, in order to complete tasks. Taking a shower, for example, and which steps come in which order. Making a sandwich, getting dressed, daily routines. These were all processes that she could see complete in her mind, but could not determine the order in which to take the steps to complete them.
We learned that certain parts of her memory were being challenged. They aren't gone, they just need some prodding to come to the forefront. She gets stuck on words. For example, she would say that she wants to eat an... an... ummm... uhhh... and then she gets very frustrated because she can't think of the word that matches the picture in her head of what it is she wants to eat. (More about this later in the post).
We learned about her cancer. We learned more about the tumor, where it was located (Left Parietal Occipital), and which functions that part of the brain controls.
We learned which medications she's currently on, and which ones they will add or take away in the coming weeks.
It was a very emotional day.
Mom was exhausted and extremely emotional.
Dad was exhausted yet still being the rock that he is for her.
Her sisters and I were emotional (privately) yet optimistic and carried the mood in the room - so Dad didn't have to - and made sure that Mom knew that she was safe and in good hands.
The next time I saw her was Sunday afternoon (Day 2). She had had a full day (3 hour chunks of rehab, twice per day) on Saturday and was pretty tired. I knew her first day would be exhausting, so I stayed away to allow her to rest when she needed to.
She seemed really good. She had come to terms with where she was and why she was there. She seemed in good spirits. Dad seemed rested and much better. We talked for a bit.
I asked her what she did in rehab today. She couldn't remember.
Then, I changed the question. I asked her if she read anything in rehab today. She said yes.
I asked her if she wrote anything in rehab today. She said yes.
Specifics. No open-ended questions. I picked up on that really quickly. She hadn't had her physical therapy yet that day, just speech, so I knew she hadn't done any walking yet.
When I left, I felt good. She was tired, but I knew they would tailor her therapy to her needs for rest. I also knew that they would push her to her limits, just so that she could see how far she is coming, each and every day.
My next visit was today. Oh boy what a difference three days makes.
Like I stated earlier, I knew the second I walked in that things were different today. She was eating her dinner, and I did not receive the warm welcome that I received for my previous visits. She barely smiled. Her answers were short and to the point. The conversation felt forced, completely unlike any previous visit I had had with her, anywhere, ever.
Dad and I talked shop for a bit (we both work in the same industry) while she finished her dinner. Then Dad asked her if she'd like to go for a walk in the garden. A walk for her consists of a wheelchair ride down to the garden. She cannot walk without assistance yet, and we did not have access to a safety belt, so she sat in her wheelchair, in the sun, and we talked.
She started to open up about the last few days. I read her activity log book that they keep. It shows daily activities (rehab) and the accomplishments she's made.
Dad had been there with her for her rehab session for half the day. So, he had many stories of goals she had met that day alone!
For example, there is this board in the rehab room. It's about 4 ft by 4 ft, and it's a touch screen with a backlight. Mom is in front of the board, and lights will appear randomly, in different areas on the board. When she touches the light, it registers her speed and accuracy with which she touched the light. Her first try, she touched 30 lights in 75 seconds. By the second try, she had knocked off 25 seconds from her time, with the same accuracy.
The next exercise was touching the lights, but this time they had letters in them. She was to touch the lights, and say a word that represents that letter. For example, the first light had the letter "A" in it. She said "Apple". Then the letter "D" showed up, she said "Dog". When the letter "C" showed up, Mom said "C3PO". Everyone stopped. Dad busted out laughing. The therapist had a confused look on her face. Mom says, "C3PO. Haven't you ever seen Star Wars? Duh!" And then continued on with the rest of the exercise.
When Dad told me this story, he was still chuckling! What a hoot!
She told the time today! This is huge!
Dad also learned (remember the "stuck on a word-can't remember which word she wants to say, from above?) that she gets frustrated when she can't think of the word she wants to say. Instead of sitting and waiting for her to think of the word, we need to help her think of it, and walk her through the thought process of recognizing words.
Using the example above, "she would say that she wants to eat an... an... ummm... uhhh... and then she gets very frustrated because she can't think of the word that matches the picture in her head of what it is she wants to eat." we will respond with questions. What color is it? What type of food is it? What shape is it? And she would respond with Red, a fruit, round, juicy... APPLE! Instead of being stuck in her frustration, she was able to think of the word she wanted, and move on.
Anyway, we spent some time celebrating her victories from the past few days, and all of the things she has learned. And then she started to loosen up a bit and began talking about how she had been feeling.
She is pretty depressed. She feels safe in the hospital "bubble".
She is scared to go home and leave her "bubble".
She is petrified about Chemotherapy and Radiation treatments. So much so that she won't even broach the subject. She knows that she will address this with her therapist, but nonetheless, she doesn't even want to speak of it.
She is frustrated with what her vision is of what she has become. She feels she's been "reduced" to something much less that what she was before she got sick. There's no amount of encouragement that will change this view I'm afraid. She sees us celebrating her victories, no matter how small or big. She doesn't see them as victories. She sees them as more battles. More shortfalls. More deficits.
She is speaking with a therapist on a regular basis, and she is being treated for this depression. I myself am familiar with depression, and I understand it, so I was not surprised to see this. I actually expected this to happen.
The three of us talked in length, but Dad and I mostly listened, without giving much input, to how she feels right now. We were her sounding boards. I think the things she is feeling are normal for this type of situation. Dad and I also expressed to her that we, as her family and caregivers, are struggling as well. We get upset seeing her sick. We get frustrated like she does. We have a hard time grasping all that has happened. When the lights go out and no one is around, all we're left with are our thoughts. As her family, it's extremely difficult to deal with. But as my dad put it so eloquently (HA!), we just fall asleep, and wake up the next day to do it all over again.
That's all we can do.
Over time, things will continue to change. They will get a little better, then get worse, then better again. It's the roller-coaster ride that we can't predict the next turn.
We will remain strong, and vigilant as we uncover what each twist and turn of this journey has to bring us.
As Mom rides this ride, sometimes so very lonely, we will remind her that she is NOT alone, and we are right here with her through every turn.
Here's the link to her fundraiser page Mom's Fundraiser. As you can imagine, the expense is already enormous given her
initial diagnosis (Never Give Up The Fight - post),
her heart attack (A Bump In The Road - post),
her surgery (Nothing Short of a Miracle - post),
her second admission post-surgery (Closer To Home - post)
and now a lengthy stay in a rehab hospital. If you can give, please do. If you cannot, please help me think of creative ways to raise money to help out - there are a couple of events already in the works. If you know of Foundations or Organizations that help those going through cancer, please send them on.
Thank you for your continued support. The prayers and well wishes do the most work, and are needed to continue.
May The Father place his healing hand on her now, and for the duration of this journey. Whether she needs it on her brain, her heart or her mind... may He heal her and make her whole again.
I went to visit Mom today at Saint Mary's Rehabilitation Hospital.
I have to say that the second I walked in I could tell things were... different.
Before I get into today, let's see if I can manage some chronological order here:
Friday June 14 was her first day there.
The folks at my work were kind enough to let me work from Dad's house that day so I could do some laundry for them and bring up a fresh suitcase of clean comfies for Mom, as well as do anything around the house that needed to be done in preparation for her return.
Mom was being transported from Novi via ambulance, which is standard procedure for this sort of thing, and I decided I wanted to meet her & Dad at the hospital when they got there. I knew she was scared. I wanted her to see familiar faces when she arrived.
I spoke with her sisters throughout the day and asked them to meet us there as well. I felt that Mom would need all the love and support we could muster when she arrived.
So when she got there, we could tell immediately that she was exhausted, and very hungry. She kept referring to her ride there as one being in a "really big truck". Like, semi truck. We told her it was an ambulance, but she insisted it was a "really big truck". She slept most of the way there, and was probably pretty groggy.
None of us had seen her since she was admitted back into Novi the week before (Read that post), so we were all anxious to speak with her and find out how she was feeling and doing.
She was not allowed to get out of bed without a nurse. Under no circumstances was she allowed to do anything without a nurse present. She is a "fall risk".
We spent most of the late afternoon and evening there with her.
We met her doctor.
We asked a lot of questions.
We got answers to most of our questions.
Basically, she is in rehab for many reasons.
To learn to cope with her health condition, and the realities of her new way of life (mental rehab).
To learn to cope with her deficits from the tumor - surgery, brain trauma, and brain cancer - (physical/speech rehab).
To learn to be independent again, but differently than before.
To learn and understand how to live with this type of cancer, and the treatments that were to follow.
Rehab isn't just for her either. It is for us, her family, as well. We need to learn how to speak with her in a way that she can answer. We need to learn what her deficits are as well. We need to learn how to let her be independent; what she can do, and what she needs assistance to do.
We learned many things that first day.
We learned that her simple math and number knowledge had diminished. For example, her doctor drew a circle on a piece of paper. He then asked Mom, using the numbers 1-12 to draw what she thinks a clock would look like. She did her best, changed some things around a little, and like a school girl, proudly handed the "clock" back to her doctor.
The number 12 was where the number 9 or 10 would go. 1 was at the top where 12 would go, followed by 2, 3, and 4. After number 4 came number 7, and so on.
But man, was she proud of herself!
We learned that tasks, and the different steps we take to complete those tasks, were going to be difficult for her. She needed to remember how to do things, in which order, in order to complete tasks. Taking a shower, for example, and which steps come in which order. Making a sandwich, getting dressed, daily routines. These were all processes that she could see complete in her mind, but could not determine the order in which to take the steps to complete them.
We learned that certain parts of her memory were being challenged. They aren't gone, they just need some prodding to come to the forefront. She gets stuck on words. For example, she would say that she wants to eat an... an... ummm... uhhh... and then she gets very frustrated because she can't think of the word that matches the picture in her head of what it is she wants to eat. (More about this later in the post).
We learned about her cancer. We learned more about the tumor, where it was located (Left Parietal Occipital), and which functions that part of the brain controls.
We learned which medications she's currently on, and which ones they will add or take away in the coming weeks.
It was a very emotional day.
Mom was exhausted and extremely emotional.
Dad was exhausted yet still being the rock that he is for her.
Her sisters and I were emotional (privately) yet optimistic and carried the mood in the room - so Dad didn't have to - and made sure that Mom knew that she was safe and in good hands.
The next time I saw her was Sunday afternoon (Day 2). She had had a full day (3 hour chunks of rehab, twice per day) on Saturday and was pretty tired. I knew her first day would be exhausting, so I stayed away to allow her to rest when she needed to.
She seemed really good. She had come to terms with where she was and why she was there. She seemed in good spirits. Dad seemed rested and much better. We talked for a bit.
I asked her what she did in rehab today. She couldn't remember.
Then, I changed the question. I asked her if she read anything in rehab today. She said yes.
I asked her if she wrote anything in rehab today. She said yes.
Specifics. No open-ended questions. I picked up on that really quickly. She hadn't had her physical therapy yet that day, just speech, so I knew she hadn't done any walking yet.
When I left, I felt good. She was tired, but I knew they would tailor her therapy to her needs for rest. I also knew that they would push her to her limits, just so that she could see how far she is coming, each and every day.
My next visit was today. Oh boy what a difference three days makes.
Like I stated earlier, I knew the second I walked in that things were different today. She was eating her dinner, and I did not receive the warm welcome that I received for my previous visits. She barely smiled. Her answers were short and to the point. The conversation felt forced, completely unlike any previous visit I had had with her, anywhere, ever.
Dad and I talked shop for a bit (we both work in the same industry) while she finished her dinner. Then Dad asked her if she'd like to go for a walk in the garden. A walk for her consists of a wheelchair ride down to the garden. She cannot walk without assistance yet, and we did not have access to a safety belt, so she sat in her wheelchair, in the sun, and we talked.
She started to open up about the last few days. I read her activity log book that they keep. It shows daily activities (rehab) and the accomplishments she's made.
Dad had been there with her for her rehab session for half the day. So, he had many stories of goals she had met that day alone!
For example, there is this board in the rehab room. It's about 4 ft by 4 ft, and it's a touch screen with a backlight. Mom is in front of the board, and lights will appear randomly, in different areas on the board. When she touches the light, it registers her speed and accuracy with which she touched the light. Her first try, she touched 30 lights in 75 seconds. By the second try, she had knocked off 25 seconds from her time, with the same accuracy.
The next exercise was touching the lights, but this time they had letters in them. She was to touch the lights, and say a word that represents that letter. For example, the first light had the letter "A" in it. She said "Apple". Then the letter "D" showed up, she said "Dog". When the letter "C" showed up, Mom said "C3PO". Everyone stopped. Dad busted out laughing. The therapist had a confused look on her face. Mom says, "C3PO. Haven't you ever seen Star Wars? Duh!" And then continued on with the rest of the exercise.
When Dad told me this story, he was still chuckling! What a hoot!
She told the time today! This is huge!
Dad also learned (remember the "stuck on a word-can't remember which word she wants to say, from above?) that she gets frustrated when she can't think of the word she wants to say. Instead of sitting and waiting for her to think of the word, we need to help her think of it, and walk her through the thought process of recognizing words.
Using the example above, "she would say that she wants to eat an... an... ummm... uhhh... and then she gets very frustrated because she can't think of the word that matches the picture in her head of what it is she wants to eat." we will respond with questions. What color is it? What type of food is it? What shape is it? And she would respond with Red, a fruit, round, juicy... APPLE! Instead of being stuck in her frustration, she was able to think of the word she wanted, and move on.
Anyway, we spent some time celebrating her victories from the past few days, and all of the things she has learned. And then she started to loosen up a bit and began talking about how she had been feeling.
She is pretty depressed. She feels safe in the hospital "bubble".
She is scared to go home and leave her "bubble".
She is petrified about Chemotherapy and Radiation treatments. So much so that she won't even broach the subject. She knows that she will address this with her therapist, but nonetheless, she doesn't even want to speak of it.
She is frustrated with what her vision is of what she has become. She feels she's been "reduced" to something much less that what she was before she got sick. There's no amount of encouragement that will change this view I'm afraid. She sees us celebrating her victories, no matter how small or big. She doesn't see them as victories. She sees them as more battles. More shortfalls. More deficits.
She is speaking with a therapist on a regular basis, and she is being treated for this depression. I myself am familiar with depression, and I understand it, so I was not surprised to see this. I actually expected this to happen.
The three of us talked in length, but Dad and I mostly listened, without giving much input, to how she feels right now. We were her sounding boards. I think the things she is feeling are normal for this type of situation. Dad and I also expressed to her that we, as her family and caregivers, are struggling as well. We get upset seeing her sick. We get frustrated like she does. We have a hard time grasping all that has happened. When the lights go out and no one is around, all we're left with are our thoughts. As her family, it's extremely difficult to deal with. But as my dad put it so eloquently (HA!), we just fall asleep, and wake up the next day to do it all over again.
That's all we can do.
Over time, things will continue to change. They will get a little better, then get worse, then better again. It's the roller-coaster ride that we can't predict the next turn.
We will remain strong, and vigilant as we uncover what each twist and turn of this journey has to bring us.
As Mom rides this ride, sometimes so very lonely, we will remind her that she is NOT alone, and we are right here with her through every turn.
Here's the link to her fundraiser page Mom's Fundraiser. As you can imagine, the expense is already enormous given her
initial diagnosis (Never Give Up The Fight - post),
her heart attack (A Bump In The Road - post),
her surgery (Nothing Short of a Miracle - post),
her second admission post-surgery (Closer To Home - post)
and now a lengthy stay in a rehab hospital. If you can give, please do. If you cannot, please help me think of creative ways to raise money to help out - there are a couple of events already in the works. If you know of Foundations or Organizations that help those going through cancer, please send them on.
Thank you for your continued support. The prayers and well wishes do the most work, and are needed to continue.
May The Father place his healing hand on her now, and for the duration of this journey. Whether she needs it on her brain, her heart or her mind... may He heal her and make her whole again.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Let Her Heart Rest
Wednesday May 22, 2013
Well, Mom is home. She and Dad stepped in the door yesterday morning. There were no other episodes with her heart and no reoccurance of arythmia.
To be cautious, the cardiologist has recommended that we postpone Mom's brain surgery until next week.
Her heart needs rest.
This is completely understandable, although we were anxious to get as much of the poison out of her brain as possible - as soon as possible. We, Mom especially, have been awaiting Friday's surgery for three weeks, preparing both physically and emotionally.
But you just can't mess with the heart.
So, we will wait, and she will rest.
I have a correction to my last post as well. The MRI that she will have just prior to surgery will take place in Novi, where she is having her brain surgery. I was mistaken when I wrote that she would have the MRI locally, and then have to drive to Novi for surgery. My apologies.
So, we don't have a definite day or time of the surgery at this point. Dad was going to call and set that up.
When she got home, he said she was a little "wobbly" and "light headed", which I suppose is to be expected.
I talked with her on the phone for a few (I was on speaker), and she sounded SO much better! Chipper and happy to be home. This was all good to me.
Tomorrow, I will be bringing some meals over that were made by some of my friends (and friends of Dad & Di) that will feed them while she is recovering. Every little bit helps to lighten the load on Dad or friends who are caretaking while she is in recovery at home. I am incredibly thankful to all of my/our friends and family for their support, prayers and meals. My heart aches as I think of the long journey we have yet to endure - and I want to do everything for them.
But I can't.
And it's amazing to me how people - families, friends, acquaintances, communities - pull together to support one another.
So, let's keep it up! Thank you again, and I'll let you all know when her surgery is next scheduled for and we'll continue to pray that she stays healthy and stable enough to get there this time!
Well, Mom is home. She and Dad stepped in the door yesterday morning. There were no other episodes with her heart and no reoccurance of arythmia.
To be cautious, the cardiologist has recommended that we postpone Mom's brain surgery until next week.
Her heart needs rest.
This is completely understandable, although we were anxious to get as much of the poison out of her brain as possible - as soon as possible. We, Mom especially, have been awaiting Friday's surgery for three weeks, preparing both physically and emotionally.
But you just can't mess with the heart.
So, we will wait, and she will rest.
I have a correction to my last post as well. The MRI that she will have just prior to surgery will take place in Novi, where she is having her brain surgery. I was mistaken when I wrote that she would have the MRI locally, and then have to drive to Novi for surgery. My apologies.
So, we don't have a definite day or time of the surgery at this point. Dad was going to call and set that up.
When she got home, he said she was a little "wobbly" and "light headed", which I suppose is to be expected.
I talked with her on the phone for a few (I was on speaker), and she sounded SO much better! Chipper and happy to be home. This was all good to me.
Tomorrow, I will be bringing some meals over that were made by some of my friends (and friends of Dad & Di) that will feed them while she is recovering. Every little bit helps to lighten the load on Dad or friends who are caretaking while she is in recovery at home. I am incredibly thankful to all of my/our friends and family for their support, prayers and meals. My heart aches as I think of the long journey we have yet to endure - and I want to do everything for them.
But I can't.
And it's amazing to me how people - families, friends, acquaintances, communities - pull together to support one another.
So, let's keep it up! Thank you again, and I'll let you all know when her surgery is next scheduled for and we'll continue to pray that she stays healthy and stable enough to get there this time!
Monday, May 20, 2013
One Day at a Time - An Update On Mom
Monday May 20, 2013
Just got an update from Dad:
"Di is still in the hospital for another 24 for observation. They now are fairly confident that a vessel spasmed causing the arythmia. She feels fine, but 48 hours is the time frame of possible reoccurance in this situation.
We now have to report to the (local) hospital on Friday morning at 5:00 am for a MRI prior to surgery. We still don't know if her surgery will be postponed or not. The local hospital is talking to the surgeons' office with details. The local hospital is also taking measures to avoid potponement of Friday's surgery."
Dad is doing such a great job!! He is informing immediate family of the latest details, and I am enforming everyone else through this outlet.
If you're just getting caught up, you can read the updates on Mom (Dianne) from the beginning. In Order:
Never Give Up The Fight
It's The Calm
Hope Renewed
A Bump In The Road
It's been just over 3 weeks since we first found out, and what a whirlwind it's been!
I will continue to keep you all updated as things develop.
Our family cannot thank you enough for your continued support and prayers - and we need them to continue!
Just got an update from Dad:
"Di is still in the hospital for another 24 for observation. They now are fairly confident that a vessel spasmed causing the arythmia. She feels fine, but 48 hours is the time frame of possible reoccurance in this situation.
We now have to report to the (local) hospital on Friday morning at 5:00 am for a MRI prior to surgery. We still don't know if her surgery will be postponed or not. The local hospital is talking to the surgeons' office with details. The local hospital is also taking measures to avoid potponement of Friday's surgery."
Dad is doing such a great job!! He is informing immediate family of the latest details, and I am enforming everyone else through this outlet.
If you're just getting caught up, you can read the updates on Mom (Dianne) from the beginning. In Order:
Never Give Up The Fight
It's The Calm
Hope Renewed
A Bump In The Road
It's been just over 3 weeks since we first found out, and what a whirlwind it's been!
I will continue to keep you all updated as things develop.
Our family cannot thank you enough for your continued support and prayers - and we need them to continue!
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