..and things are starting to look up. Vertigo is better, but not gone, and dp is cracking smiles and jokes.
I got here at 5:30 this morning, so I could talk the Doctors doing rounds. dp says he's less rude than she's alone. This is not the head head doc, but Dr. B, the guy whose cheek she pinched. I guess maybe she shouldn't have done that... Pathology confirmed that the tumor was cancer -- everyone assumes that it's metastasis, but I guess they can't prove it. Maybe I can convince Human Relations that it's another second illness, and use another 48 hours of my sick leave...
Dr. C was in this morning too. He didn't think the acupuncturist was such a good idea, which struck me as odd, given that it was his suggestion in the first place. He thinks the dizziness now could just be lightheadedness, because she's been bed-ridden for so long.
dp is off the liquid diet this morning, and is working her way through a bowl of dry Kix (weren't they for trids?), a melon plate(canteloupe and honeydew, neither a dp favorite), and an orange italian ice. We're going to have to try and find those -- they're good (Arrezzio brand). They expect her to walk today, so hopefully that means pulling the foley catheter. She's down to one IV (the last two in her right hand have gone bad -- the first "infused," and blew up her hand to yesterday morning -- the swelling was better by last night), and is pretty much gone now.
She's still not feeling very social, but she is showing definite improvement.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Waiting for Improvement
The news is not so good -- dp still has vertigo and nausea and feels absolutely awful. I'm hoping that this is swelling from the surgery mimicking the swelling of the tumor, and that it will subside soon. This is not really much solace to Diana right now, though. She is pretty beat up, but she's still better this evening than she was this morning. The kitchen serves an Italian Ice that she likes, so I've stashed a bunch of them in the freezer. She's still on a liquid diet, but she is eating better. Still she's happiest when she's sleeping, though.
She had the CT yesterday afternoon, and a follow-up MRI last night. A resident came in and looked at her stitches this afternoon, and everything looks good. Now if we can just convince dp of that...
She had the CT yesterday afternoon, and a follow-up MRI last night. A resident came in and looked at her stitches this afternoon, and everything looks good. Now if we can just convince dp of that...
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Back in Neurology Again
By the time I got back, dp had been downstairs for her CT, discharged from the SICU, and moved back to the 6th floor (JC East, instead of JC West, but I noticed Pearly was still in dp's old room).
It's an improvement. We've got a private room with a lovely view of the emergency room parking lot, the taller parts of downtown IC, and even City High in the distance. dp's back to three leads, and I think just one IV, and for the first time since she's been admitted, no infusion pump. She still has the Kendall leg cuffs and a catheter, but I'll take any improvement I can get. dp still feels real groggy and pretty darned unhappy. I'll give the new phone number to Katie and Cinda, but rest assured, she doesn't want to talk to you right now. She's been sleeping as write this, so that's good.
Still, we're on our way out of here, now, and I think her vertigo is clearly better, even if she doesn't want to acknowledge it. The curtains here have the same vertical stripes, but since her bed faces the wall, she doesn't actually have to look at them. (BTW, SICU curtains have both vertical and horizontal stripes -- a veritable vertigo extravaganza.)
Back to last night (sorry I didn't get a chance to blog earlier -- there might have been an internet connection somewhere in the room, but I wasn't going to risk ticking off a nurse to ask for one) -- one of the "is-your-brain-still-working" questions was "what's the next major holiday?" Neither the day nurse or the night nurse knew what "Winter Solstice" meant.
Katie, Co and Mom left about 4 or so, I think, leaving a care package with Seth. When I looked in the fridge this morning, I found a bag of salad, a lasagna of some sort, assorted bananas, apples and oranges, and a pineapple. I had half the salad for lunch, but I'm still pondering about what to do with the pineapple -- maybe something with rum. ;)
It's an improvement. We've got a private room with a lovely view of the emergency room parking lot, the taller parts of downtown IC, and even City High in the distance. dp's back to three leads, and I think just one IV, and for the first time since she's been admitted, no infusion pump. She still has the Kendall leg cuffs and a catheter, but I'll take any improvement I can get. dp still feels real groggy and pretty darned unhappy. I'll give the new phone number to Katie and Cinda, but rest assured, she doesn't want to talk to you right now. She's been sleeping as write this, so that's good.
Still, we're on our way out of here, now, and I think her vertigo is clearly better, even if she doesn't want to acknowledge it. The curtains here have the same vertical stripes, but since her bed faces the wall, she doesn't actually have to look at them. (BTW, SICU curtains have both vertical and horizontal stripes -- a veritable vertigo extravaganza.)
Back to last night (sorry I didn't get a chance to blog earlier -- there might have been an internet connection somewhere in the room, but I wasn't going to risk ticking off a nurse to ask for one) -- one of the "is-your-brain-still-working" questions was "what's the next major holiday?" Neither the day nurse or the night nurse knew what "Winter Solstice" meant.
Katie, Co and Mom left about 4 or so, I think, leaving a care package with Seth. When I looked in the fridge this morning, I found a bag of salad, a lasagna of some sort, assorted bananas, apples and oranges, and a pineapple. I had half the salad for lunch, but I'm still pondering about what to do with the pineapple -- maybe something with rum. ;)
SICU
..for those who don't hang around hospitals, stands for Surgical Intensive Care Unit. In theory, visitors are only allowed for 15 minutes every two hours, but if you're nice to the nurses and don't get in the way, they have the option of allowing you to stay in the room. I've been very nice to the nurses.
Other policies here seem pretty fucked up -- there are 'family rounds' that allow the family members to talk to the doctors, but that's only one day a week. (Tuesday) Given that most people are out of here in 48 hours or so, it seems like a pretty token program to me.
dp still has two IVs and an arterial line, a four lead heart and breathing monitor, a oxygen saturation sensor and two inflatable cuffs around her calves, hooked up to an air pump made by Kendall (well-known from my youth as a manufacturer of milking machines.) The arterial line gives constant blood pressure readings, but she still has a blood pressure cuff on her arm. With all that, the simple act of rolling over in bed becomes a puzzle on how to keep all those lines from fouling each other.
All the monitors say she's doing okay, but she's still pretty miserable. Sleep comes in 60 minute intervals, punctuated by the 'is-your-brain-still-working' tests. She did eat lunch -- a container of orange ice and most of another of jello. She says it sat hard in her stomach, but she's keeping it down.
A fellow could also spend quite awhile here before he realized that actual doctors work here -- I was here from 3 to 11 yesterday and since about 8:30 this morning. I saw an intern last night, and nobody today. The surgeon told us that the follow-up would include a head CT yesterday afternoon or evening, but the nurse last night said that would wait until this morning. When there was no talk of that by 12:30, I told the nurse I was concerned that it hadn't happened. She called down and came back to tell me it would probably happen in the next hour or so. Diana is shaky and groggy and not interested in talking to anyone (including me), and I want some objective tests, dammit!
The word from the nurse is that she'll probably go back up the neurology ward sometime today. Both of us are looking forward to that. She's sleeping now, so I think I'll take this opportunity to feed Trooley and myself, and find a place to upload this post.
I appreciate all the posts of support, and I imagine dp will too, as soon as she feels well enough to direct her attention outside of the world that is her bed.
Other policies here seem pretty fucked up -- there are 'family rounds' that allow the family members to talk to the doctors, but that's only one day a week. (Tuesday) Given that most people are out of here in 48 hours or so, it seems like a pretty token program to me.
dp still has two IVs and an arterial line, a four lead heart and breathing monitor, a oxygen saturation sensor and two inflatable cuffs around her calves, hooked up to an air pump made by Kendall (well-known from my youth as a manufacturer of milking machines.) The arterial line gives constant blood pressure readings, but she still has a blood pressure cuff on her arm. With all that, the simple act of rolling over in bed becomes a puzzle on how to keep all those lines from fouling each other.
All the monitors say she's doing okay, but she's still pretty miserable. Sleep comes in 60 minute intervals, punctuated by the 'is-your-brain-still-working' tests. She did eat lunch -- a container of orange ice and most of another of jello. She says it sat hard in her stomach, but she's keeping it down.
A fellow could also spend quite awhile here before he realized that actual doctors work here -- I was here from 3 to 11 yesterday and since about 8:30 this morning. I saw an intern last night, and nobody today. The surgeon told us that the follow-up would include a head CT yesterday afternoon or evening, but the nurse last night said that would wait until this morning. When there was no talk of that by 12:30, I told the nurse I was concerned that it hadn't happened. She called down and came back to tell me it would probably happen in the next hour or so. Diana is shaky and groggy and not interested in talking to anyone (including me), and I want some objective tests, dammit!
The word from the nurse is that she'll probably go back up the neurology ward sometime today. Both of us are looking forward to that. She's sleeping now, so I think I'll take this opportunity to feed Trooley and myself, and find a place to upload this post.
I appreciate all the posts of support, and I imagine dp will too, as soon as she feels well enough to direct her attention outside of the world that is her bed.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Day of surgery lounge, again
We started stuff this morning about 6. They wheeled Diana down to the pre and post surgery ward, and we met with her surgeon, Dr. R (yeah, that's different). He said he got the case because of his interest in these kinds of tumors, and the fact that he's a brain surgeon and a radiation oncologist (he's two, two, two docs in one!). He said it's his birthday today, so he's feeling lucky.
Seriously, though, he didn't seem too concerned with the surgery. The biggest concern is fluid build-up, which they can fix with a drain, and intercranial bleeding, which they have to back after. They'll do a post-op CT to check for bleeding. He says the cerebellum can suffer a lot of damage without ill effects to the patient -- dp will proabably lose some eye-hand coordination with her left hand, but it will come back as different parts of the cerebellum learn how to pick up the slack.
He says his part only takes 3 hours, but with prep and post and all, it'll probably be seven hours before I can see her, and they'll probably take her back to the same room she was in before (here we come, Pearly!) He does call up with updates, so I'll hear something before their done.
Meanwhile, there's a guy here (we saw him in prep) with 16 family members for a 12 hour surgery. While that may be comforting to him, it makes the lounge here pretty damned crowded.
I'm going to try to learn javascript.
Seriously, though, he didn't seem too concerned with the surgery. The biggest concern is fluid build-up, which they can fix with a drain, and intercranial bleeding, which they have to back after. They'll do a post-op CT to check for bleeding. He says the cerebellum can suffer a lot of damage without ill effects to the patient -- dp will proabably lose some eye-hand coordination with her left hand, but it will come back as different parts of the cerebellum learn how to pick up the slack.
He says his part only takes 3 hours, but with prep and post and all, it'll probably be seven hours before I can see her, and they'll probably take her back to the same room she was in before (here we come, Pearly!) He does call up with updates, so I'll hear something before their done.
Meanwhile, there's a guy here (we saw him in prep) with 16 family members for a 12 hour surgery. While that may be comforting to him, it makes the lounge here pretty damned crowded.
I'm going to try to learn javascript.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Monday Afternoon
It's official - 8 am Tuesday morning. The nurse said they'd probably take her down around 6 am, so I'll get up early tomorrow.
We're still waiting for the 'stealth' MRI. I don't think it's done in secret, but there's some sort of an acronym involved. A PA came in mid-morning, and glued what look like a series of life-savers around her skull, and eventually she'll go down for another MRI. I guess this surgeon likes to have 3-D image of the tumor before surgery.
dp is definitely feeling better today. She's slept a good part of the afternoon, and her breathing is much more regular than it was yesterday. Her blood pressure is a lot better, too -- it was up to 200/100 for awhile yesterday, but the last I saw today was 148/86. She's finished a bowl of grapes (peeled - don't ask) and a half a bag of potato chips. That's the most she's eaten in over 10 days, so it's definitely an improvement.
The anesthesiologist just came in with the anesthesia consent form. Given that we'd already signed the surgery consent, this one seems like a good idea. Following close behind were two other guys from anesthesiology, asking if dp wanted to be in a study. She'll be given a drug called mannitol (a hyperosmotic agent) to reduce the pressure of fluids in her head during surgery. They want to get blood samples from her over a 12 hour period to try and get a better profile of how it lasts in the blood. No extra sticks, so we said ok.
Cross your fingers, say your prayers, and I'll post some more tomorrow.
We're still waiting for the 'stealth' MRI. I don't think it's done in secret, but there's some sort of an acronym involved. A PA came in mid-morning, and glued what look like a series of life-savers around her skull, and eventually she'll go down for another MRI. I guess this surgeon likes to have 3-D image of the tumor before surgery.
dp is definitely feeling better today. She's slept a good part of the afternoon, and her breathing is much more regular than it was yesterday. Her blood pressure is a lot better, too -- it was up to 200/100 for awhile yesterday, but the last I saw today was 148/86. She's finished a bowl of grapes (peeled - don't ask) and a half a bag of potato chips. That's the most she's eaten in over 10 days, so it's definitely an improvement.
The anesthesiologist just came in with the anesthesia consent form. Given that we'd already signed the surgery consent, this one seems like a good idea. Following close behind were two other guys from anesthesiology, asking if dp wanted to be in a study. She'll be given a drug called mannitol (a hyperosmotic agent) to reduce the pressure of fluids in her head during surgery. They want to get blood samples from her over a 12 hour period to try and get a better profile of how it lasts in the blood. No extra sticks, so we said ok.
Cross your fingers, say your prayers, and I'll post some more tomorrow.
Monday Morning
dp is not on the surgery schedule yet -- It's possible she could still go in this afternoon, but more likely tomorrow.
She's feeling a bit better this morning -- the vertigo has improved, and she almost feels like she has an appetite. Makes a weird murphy-like sense -- she can't eat now, because she has to have an empty stomach for surgery.
More news as it develops...
She's feeling a bit better this morning -- the vertigo has improved, and she almost feels like she has an appetite. Makes a weird murphy-like sense -- she can't eat now, because she has to have an empty stomach for surgery.
More news as it develops...
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Signing Papers
We signed the consent form for a "posterior fossa craniectomy" this morning. There's a scary list of things that can go wrong, but there aren't a lot of options. This thing is pushing against her brainstem, and that can cause all kinds of problems.
I forget the term right now, but she's on the surgical equivalent of flying standby, so it might be Monday and it might be Tuesday. The head of the Department (Dr. F, not Dr. G --I was tired) will be doing the surgery.
Dr. C recommended Meclizine to try and deal with the nausea. dp was doing that when we thought it was positional vertigo, and it didn't seem to help much, but any help would be good right now. Diana is back to being as miserable as she was yesterday morning. Meclizine is an antihistamine, so if nothing else, it help her to sleep.
Meanwhile, Trooley has been riding to the hospital every day. He sleeps in the car in the parking lot. The hospital does have a way to have pet visits, but it involves three forms and a vet's signature. Vaccinations are to be done within at least a year, but not in the last 14 days, and as CMan mentioned in the comments, Trooley got a rabies shot last week. I'll look into it.
I forget the term right now, but she's on the surgical equivalent of flying standby, so it might be Monday and it might be Tuesday. The head of the Department (Dr. F, not Dr. G --I was tired) will be doing the surgery.
Dr. C recommended Meclizine to try and deal with the nausea. dp was doing that when we thought it was positional vertigo, and it didn't seem to help much, but any help would be good right now. Diana is back to being as miserable as she was yesterday morning. Meclizine is an antihistamine, so if nothing else, it help her to sleep.
Meanwhile, Trooley has been riding to the hospital every day. He sleeps in the car in the parking lot. The hospital does have a way to have pet visits, but it involves three forms and a vet's signature. Vaccinations are to be done within at least a year, but not in the last 14 days, and as CMan mentioned in the comments, Trooley got a rabies shot last week. I'll look into it.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Saturday's Update
...is about the same as Friday's. dp felt about the same this morning. The head head doc (let's call him Dr. G) came around this morning but had nothing new to say.
Cinda came to cover my lunch break, and dp went down for another CT scan. We didn't hear anything more about it, which means that things aren't any worse.
dp looked better when I came back -- I asked if the vertigo was better, and she said at least she was getting better at tolerating it. She's not able to read right now, so I've been reading to her. We've finished the first Harry Potter book and have started on the second.
Cinda came to cover my lunch break, and dp went down for another CT scan. We didn't hear anything more about it, which means that things aren't any worse.
dp looked better when I came back -- I asked if the vertigo was better, and she said at least she was getting better at tolerating it. She's not able to read right now, so I've been reading to her. We've finished the first Harry Potter book and have started on the second.
Friday, November 23, 2007
The Day After Turkey Day
dp talked to the head head guy on rounds this morning. They want the steroids to shrink the tumor before surgery, and it's not shrinking as fast as they'd like. It sounds like they're going to watch her over the weekend, and maybe do surgery on Monday. It sounds like everyone agrees that surgery is the first step, but the 'when' is still up in the air. dp gets the feeling that Dr. C would like to expedite it, but since he's not the guy with scalpel, it's not his call.
Meanwhile, they've lowered the dose of steroids, I think because dp wasn't handling them so well. She felt better this morning -- I think she ate all the applesauce and some of the grapes last night. She ordered the same thing for breakfast today, but she fell asleep around 9:30 or so, and is still sleeping now.
Her blood pressure is still high, and they said that the CT from yesterday morning showed the tumor essentially unchanged. The double vision has gone away and the vertigo has come back, so I guess that's some progress. Diana says the vertigo isn't has bad as it was yesterday, but pointed out that whoever decided the room-dividing curtains should include vertical stripes had never had vertigo.
Dr. C mentioned that there's an accupuncturist on staff. We're looking into that.
Meanwhile, they've lowered the dose of steroids, I think because dp wasn't handling them so well. She felt better this morning -- I think she ate all the applesauce and some of the grapes last night. She ordered the same thing for breakfast today, but she fell asleep around 9:30 or so, and is still sleeping now.
Her blood pressure is still high, and they said that the CT from yesterday morning showed the tumor essentially unchanged. The double vision has gone away and the vertigo has come back, so I guess that's some progress. Diana says the vertigo isn't has bad as it was yesterday, but pointed out that whoever decided the room-dividing curtains should include vertical stripes had never had vertigo.
Dr. C mentioned that there's an accupuncturist on staff. We're looking into that.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Pearly
dp's roommate is an 84 year-old black woman named Pearly. From what we've gathered, Pearly had a tumor behind her eyes that was removed a couple days ago. She's deaf as a post, and her daughter took her hearing aids home after they told her that she couldn't wear them on the fifth floor -- apparently for the same reason I can't turn my cell phone on.
All the patients have lots of stuff written down, so that staff can see what's going on, but it seems that there's no place to write "she can't hear," so that's become dp's job, and mine when dp is sleeping.
Sometimes, Pearly will say "I don't have my hearing aid in," but often, she just stares at them. She has a deep, resonating voice, and sounds kind of like Maya Angelou. Her head is shaved, and there's a nasty-looking set of sutures that go a third of the way around her skull.
Every couple of hours, the nurses come around and do assessments to make sure that brain function isn't deteriorating. They ask you your name, where you are, and what date it is, and then they check motor function -- "grab my fingers. Push me away. Pull me toward you. Lift your toes, push them down again." dp's still passing them, but Pearly's answers can be kind of random, and then half the time she just won't answer -- whether it's from deafness or disgust, I don't know.
She also has a lot of phlegm, and they've given her something like a dentist's suction (only much bigger) to suck it away. The sound of the suction is a lot like fingers on a blackboard. I'll never hear Ross Perot's "giant sucking sound" speech the same way. They've got her in arm restraints, because every couple of hours she starts pulling the various wires and tubes out of her body. The alarms go off, and Diana instinctively starts feeling her wires and tubes to see if everything is still where it's supposed to be.
Diana's feeling a little bit better. She slept most of the afternoon. Her blood pressure is still a little high, and she's getting insulin to keep her blood sugar down and Zofran to keep her food down. The insulin works -- the Zofran doesn't. She'll take a sip of water, and then spit it up over the next 10 minutes or so. Still, she's ordered some supper -- bananas, grapes, applesauce and some toast. Ever the optimist, my honey...
She still doesn't feel very social, and I've fended off the people who called in Thanksgiving wishes. We love you all -- we just don't feel much like talking right now.
I do read her the comments to the blog, at least the ones I can read without tears. We don't cry about our situation much, but your good wishes and good deeds move us often.
All the patients have lots of stuff written down, so that staff can see what's going on, but it seems that there's no place to write "she can't hear," so that's become dp's job, and mine when dp is sleeping.
Sometimes, Pearly will say "I don't have my hearing aid in," but often, she just stares at them. She has a deep, resonating voice, and sounds kind of like Maya Angelou. Her head is shaved, and there's a nasty-looking set of sutures that go a third of the way around her skull.
Every couple of hours, the nurses come around and do assessments to make sure that brain function isn't deteriorating. They ask you your name, where you are, and what date it is, and then they check motor function -- "grab my fingers. Push me away. Pull me toward you. Lift your toes, push them down again." dp's still passing them, but Pearly's answers can be kind of random, and then half the time she just won't answer -- whether it's from deafness or disgust, I don't know.
She also has a lot of phlegm, and they've given her something like a dentist's suction (only much bigger) to suck it away. The sound of the suction is a lot like fingers on a blackboard. I'll never hear Ross Perot's "giant sucking sound" speech the same way. They've got her in arm restraints, because every couple of hours she starts pulling the various wires and tubes out of her body. The alarms go off, and Diana instinctively starts feeling her wires and tubes to see if everything is still where it's supposed to be.
Diana's feeling a little bit better. She slept most of the afternoon. Her blood pressure is still a little high, and she's getting insulin to keep her blood sugar down and Zofran to keep her food down. The insulin works -- the Zofran doesn't. She'll take a sip of water, and then spit it up over the next 10 minutes or so. Still, she's ordered some supper -- bananas, grapes, applesauce and some toast. Ever the optimist, my honey...
She still doesn't feel very social, and I've fended off the people who called in Thanksgiving wishes. We love you all -- we just don't feel much like talking right now.
I do read her the comments to the blog, at least the ones I can read without tears. We don't cry about our situation much, but your good wishes and good deeds move us often.
Thanksgiving Morning
...is not good. dp spent most of the night wretching. Her potassium was "dangerously low," and when she couldn't keep the pills down, they started pumping it IV. According to dp, it burns.
She's dozing now, and not real interested in talking to anyone. She's pretty miserable. The steroids they're giving her to shrink the tumor increase stomach acid, raise her blood pressure and her blood sugar, so they give her more drugs to treat those symptoms. Dr. C was in first thing in the morning again -- he was very sympathetic.
Sorry I can't give better news -- I'll probably do an update later today.
She's dozing now, and not real interested in talking to anyone. She's pretty miserable. The steroids they're giving her to shrink the tumor increase stomach acid, raise her blood pressure and her blood sugar, so they give her more drugs to treat those symptoms. Dr. C was in first thing in the morning again -- he was very sympathetic.
Sorry I can't give better news -- I'll probably do an update later today.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Neurology Ward
So, dp is wearing a fashionable black eye patch today -- that way, there's only one of me (and everyone else).
Dr C was in first thing this morning, and said that surgical resection was definitely the best option. Apparently, it took until almost noon for the decision that there wouldn't be surgery today, because that's when the word came down that dp was allowed to eat again. She thought the onion rings sounded good, but changed her mind half-way through the second one -- Dr A came in about then, and said that while it was good that onion rings appealed to her, she should stick to a BRAT diet -- Broth, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. I guess her stomach is still pretty burned up from all the throwing up last week. She's on IV anti-emetics, but she's still having trouble keeping food down.
We also got a visit from radiation oncology -- not Dr. B, but one of his associates. He said they would probably want to do radiotherapy on dp's head not too long after surgery, and our eventual decision is whether to go with radiation focused on the tumor spot or "whole brain" radiation. The whole brain approach results in fewer future tumors, but it has more side effects (hearing and memory loss being the two that stuck in my head), and you can only do the whole brain thing one time. Our early thoughts are to go with the narrow beam.
Surgery could be Friday, but things are pretty chaotic over the holiday, so nobody's committing to anything today.
Let's see -- as the comments mentioned, Faith was here this morning, followed by Cinda, Marcy, Faith again, Dede, Dr. A, and Cinda again.
Despite it all, I think we're both in pretty good spirits - we spent the day yesterday dreading the phone call, but once it came, we were both ready to move ahead.
More news as we get it. Thanks for all the support and good thoughts.
Dr C was in first thing this morning, and said that surgical resection was definitely the best option. Apparently, it took until almost noon for the decision that there wouldn't be surgery today, because that's when the word came down that dp was allowed to eat again. She thought the onion rings sounded good, but changed her mind half-way through the second one -- Dr A came in about then, and said that while it was good that onion rings appealed to her, she should stick to a BRAT diet -- Broth, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. I guess her stomach is still pretty burned up from all the throwing up last week. She's on IV anti-emetics, but she's still having trouble keeping food down.
We also got a visit from radiation oncology -- not Dr. B, but one of his associates. He said they would probably want to do radiotherapy on dp's head not too long after surgery, and our eventual decision is whether to go with radiation focused on the tumor spot or "whole brain" radiation. The whole brain approach results in fewer future tumors, but it has more side effects (hearing and memory loss being the two that stuck in my head), and you can only do the whole brain thing one time. Our early thoughts are to go with the narrow beam.
Surgery could be Friday, but things are pretty chaotic over the holiday, so nobody's committing to anything today.
Let's see -- as the comments mentioned, Faith was here this morning, followed by Cinda, Marcy, Faith again, Dede, Dr. A, and Cinda again.
Despite it all, I think we're both in pretty good spirits - we spent the day yesterday dreading the phone call, but once it came, we were both ready to move ahead.
More news as we get it. Thanks for all the support and good thoughts.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The 700 lb gorilla...
..has jumped up and bit us. Yeah, we all knew that there was more than one possible cause of vertigo, so when dp wasn't feeling any better by Monday, Dr. A ordered an MRI this morning. We got the news about 5:30 or so that she has a single mass on the left side of the cerebellum. The mass is pressing on the duct that all of the spinal fluid drains out of, and if that closes up, it's bad news.
So, here we are at the Emergency Room, and they are admitting dp tonight for eventual surgery to remove the tumor. For now, they'll treat the tumor with steroids to see if they can shrink it for some temporary relief, but they want to keep a real close eye on her, since the situation could change rapidly, and they'd have to do emergency surgery.
We're not sure yet how fast they'll schedule surgery, but it looks like it could happen even as early as tomorrow. Afterwards, she'll probably need about a week in hospital before she's ready to go home.
Apparently, they gave dp valium when she got in -- she's been smiling a lot, and even pinched one of the intern's cheeks, telling him that he looked awful young. Her headache is gone, and the vertigo is okay if she doesn't move. Today's new symptom, though, is double vision -- she asked me to make sure I thanked the Clan for the two beautiful flower arrangements they sent today...
We've moved up to the neurology ward on the 6th floor, where I've found a network port. We love you all, and we'll try and keep you up to date.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
A Dizzy Delay
Diana's been doing vertigo since Monday, and throwing up for the last two days, so we've canceled cataract surgery for tomorrow.
I talked to Dr. A's nurse this morning, and Zofran seems to be helping the nausea, but not the vertigo. We'll check in again with her tomorrow morning.
We're both pretty tired, so all you get is this terse report.
I talked to Dr. A's nurse this morning, and Zofran seems to be helping the nausea, but not the vertigo. We'll check in again with her tomorrow morning.
We're both pretty tired, so all you get is this terse report.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Gone Long...
...or Long Gone?
A little of both, I think.
I have spent part, if not all, of each of the past ten days removing and moving leaves. Kevin has spent his 'spare time' working on websites, doing repairs at both houses, and taking care of me.
By the time evening rolled around last week, neither of us had the creative energy to conduct a coherent conversation, let alone describe our rather mundane schedule here.
Early last week we learned that Doc and Olive would be here this weekend, so some of our time was spent getting ready for their visit.
What we didn't expect was their arriving armed with a leaf blower and an intention to put a dent in our 'leaf situation.' By Saturday afternoon, all of what I call our 'leafing trim work' was done. Olive and I moved a couple brush piles and a couple piles of recently cut logs. Both yards and all of our parking is visible again!
Having all of that done is doublegood since we're expecting rain for the next couple days!
Somehow in addition to doing all the yardwork, we watched football games, played bridge, sat around the fire, ate well, and generally enjoyed each other's company.
Overall we've been well and counting our blessings. My energy isn't returning as quickly as I'd like. On occasion I still have problems swallowing, light waves of nausea, trouble maintaining my balance. I still feel bloated. Sleep is still interrupted. My muscles aren't comfortable with the extra weight I'm carrying. But hey, I'm two months farther along the road than some thought I'd be...
Our next trip to the hospital will be on Nov. 16th for cataract surgery on my right eye. (Left eye surgery is Nov. 30th.)
NancyTurtle, we laughed when we read your comment about the writers' strike. Apologies, we'll work on being a bit more regular with these posts.
BTW, did you hear that writers' on the picket lines were carrying blank signs??
Happy Birthday, Dede!
Happy Veteran's Day to all of our Veterans!!
Make a great rest of the weekend!
A little of both, I think.
I have spent part, if not all, of each of the past ten days removing and moving leaves. Kevin has spent his 'spare time' working on websites, doing repairs at both houses, and taking care of me.
By the time evening rolled around last week, neither of us had the creative energy to conduct a coherent conversation, let alone describe our rather mundane schedule here.
Early last week we learned that Doc and Olive would be here this weekend, so some of our time was spent getting ready for their visit.
What we didn't expect was their arriving armed with a leaf blower and an intention to put a dent in our 'leaf situation.' By Saturday afternoon, all of what I call our 'leafing trim work' was done. Olive and I moved a couple brush piles and a couple piles of recently cut logs. Both yards and all of our parking is visible again!
Having all of that done is doublegood since we're expecting rain for the next couple days!
Somehow in addition to doing all the yardwork, we watched football games, played bridge, sat around the fire, ate well, and generally enjoyed each other's company.
Overall we've been well and counting our blessings. My energy isn't returning as quickly as I'd like. On occasion I still have problems swallowing, light waves of nausea, trouble maintaining my balance. I still feel bloated. Sleep is still interrupted. My muscles aren't comfortable with the extra weight I'm carrying. But hey, I'm two months farther along the road than some thought I'd be...
Our next trip to the hospital will be on Nov. 16th for cataract surgery on my right eye. (Left eye surgery is Nov. 30th.)
NancyTurtle, we laughed when we read your comment about the writers' strike. Apologies, we'll work on being a bit more regular with these posts.
BTW, did you hear that writers' on the picket lines were carrying blank signs??
Happy Birthday, Dede!
Happy Veteran's Day to all of our Veterans!!
Make a great rest of the weekend!
Friday, November 2, 2007
Cleopatra...
...won the Best Costume award!
And, it must have been a busy day for her because she was exhausted when she got home.
Did more leaf re-arrangement this morning and got the impatience and begonias inside. While the temps may dip to freezing at night, the days are forecast to be comfortable enough to work outside.
I'm sure Lily and Carl can tell you what it's like when we don't take care of this in the fall. I think they both spent the entire day before Uncle Shorty's Memorial Gathering raking leaves at da Red House so the Bon Fire wouldn't present a danger.
Yesterday afternoon we both went to the dentist. I got there first and was taken into the x-ray room.
Kevin came in shortly after I did and the hygienist asked if he were my son...
*leaves to ponder*
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