..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...
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