December 23, 2016
Oh lord… another day. That’s our miracle. That. is. our. miracle.
Hard fought though. Hard fought. There’s so much to say and yet there’s nothing to say. Her situation has changed key, but it’s still the same song.
Where to start today? First. Can I just say… how much this sucks? To see your mother, a strong, amazing woman… 7 days now. I guess today felt terrible because she’s just starting to be AWARE when she’s awake that something’s not right. She doesn’t remember the first few days… and then we were adjusting drugs, she’s SO sensitive to even tylenol! But now the drugs that are helping her heal are all squared away, the right amounts, the right times, so… she’s starting to KNOW…
Lord. Give me the STRENGTH.
Until now it’s been more of a physical battle. Turning, cleaning, poking, testing, keeping her calm with voices she recognized but she was so out of it. As long as her physical body was comfortable she’s largely been unresponsive until last night. Last night some awareness started setting in. GREAT news. But it starts shifting this battle to a mental stratosphere that is clearly going to take much more energy. Combine that with a brain fever and the discomfort and… let’s just say I kicked the rainbow-pooping-unicorns way up today.
Mom’s temp is through the roof. There’s no infection. They’ve checked and rechecked and looked and looked, there’s no infection anywhere. They’re calling it “brain fever” — it’s her brain telling her body to fight. But it’s really uncomfortable and she’s pretty aware of that. She doesn’t remember what happened, she doesn’t know why she’s sick, but her head hurts. She’s not saying “beautiful” or “smartass” anymore… just “headache.” “cold.” “hot.” I know that this in and of itself is a miracle. But SmartAss was easier to take.
She’s my MOM! And she HURTS! And it SUCKS to watch this and not have any better way to fix it than by making ice packs, getting the washcloths cold again, blanket on, blanket off, ice chips… And watch her temp STILL climb! Sometimes she can answer questions, sometimes she can’t. She’s finally stable now at 38degrees C. Gross.
It’s still just a waiting game for the next 7-10 days. We’re “Out of the Woods Week 1” but Week 2 (it turns out) is actually much more difficult. In week two, the chance of stroking again, a vasospasm, clots… everything is increased. What can we do? Nothing except watch and wait.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!? (Oooooooommmmm… inject patience here… did I mention that there is a Starbucks stand next to a Krispy Creme cart in the basement? In an attempt not to die, I’m forcing myself to use the stairs between the basement and the 11th floor… ) Between trying to talk to her… in the four or five times a day she’s 100% out of it, I streak to the basement, load up, and then boogie back up here. Usually stopping in the ladies room along the way… the ones in the basement are really nice, and always empty…
She’s off the oxygen but she’s still on feeding tubes. They think it will take the rest of the weekend to get her off of those. She’s too weak, not worth the risk.
Mom can’t start a conversation if asked yet. She has to be prompted to talk other than the three words I mentioned above. When asked sometimes she knows the correct answers to basic personal info. She hasn’t asked about anyone or anything yet, but if I read all your messages to her, she lifts her eyebrows at names, and I can start asking easy questions and she can try to answer, to put things back together. “Where do you know this person from?” (thinking face…) “Church? … Studio? … Girl Scouts?” (Thinking face…) “Gallery?” (head nod) Awesome! “What kind of car do you drive?” (Thinking face…) then she says: “golf.” and I say: “That’s right. You’re only allowed to drive a golf cart now. I’m bundling you up into a bubble for the rest of your life because I can’t take any more crap from you!” (little smile.) and…. she’s asleep again. I think the longest we’ve “talked” so far is about 6 minutes. Between those times she’s kind of in and out of a weird semi-conscious place.
I know it’s amazing, I do. I just want to fix it, you know? Today was hard to watch, that’s all.
We still don’t know what we’re getting into once we get her up on her feet. We’re hoping to try a chair tomorrow.
I have to run… because, you know, on top of all this, I’ve got a 3 month old that doesn’t understand why she doesn’t have my undivided attention right now, there’s some paperwork to finish for Pops, settling his situation with the VA, and my VW is totaled and I have to square all that away.
And I miss my little guy and my amazing hubby.
I’m not really a “hug” sort of person. I’m one of those people with a personal space proximity problem.
But today was a roller coaster, not gonna lie.
Thank you to all who continue to leave notes and prayers. They are truly the best parts of our day and I really couldn’t be more grateful.
And now. I’m gonna lace up my bootstraps and go find another rainbow-pooping-unicorn.
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