No, not Lisa. Me. Lisa is doing great. And I’m falling down on the job. Four days since the last post – I should be fired. When I last wrote, Lisa had just turned a corner, and the pendulum had swung from negative to positive. And then my pendulum analogy fell completely apart. Things stayed positive, and got more positive with each passing day. The day after that post, Lisa was up even earlier and seemed to have her snap back. And the day after that, she was in command of both her Dad and her Mom as the three of them attacked a little home improvement project in the kitchen. Lisa literally brought her Dad to tears. And not because she is a demanding boss, though I’m not saying she isn’t. He cried because he suddenly saw a glimpse of the real Lisa again… his daughter was tackling a project and interacting with the world. Tears of joy and relief. Till she caught him slacking and put his ass back to work. On Monday, we had that very important meeting about the project I mentioned that has a special place in my heart. We pushed really hard and produced a video that introduced the project and sought approval of the concept. At the conclusion of the presentation, the man smiled and said “Done deal!”. Very cool! The pendulum remains stuck, and I lay a literary analogy to rest with a smile. Praying it stays that way, at least for a while. Yesterday we had the follow up appointment with the neurosurgeon. In our meetings with him before surgery, Lisa just showed up and asked whatever questions crossed her mind. It was a crowded crossing. Yesterday, she had three full pages of observations both positive and negative, as well as a long list of questions. Dr. Tumu patiently sat through the entire list without the slightest hint of impatience. I imagine he was enjoying the barrage in the knowledge that it was solid evidence of his work well done. So things are coming back piece by piece, and Lisa’s daily progress is very encouraging. She was irritated by her inability to come up with the word “buzzard” to describe those things circling over Bull Creek valley on our way to mass Sunday morning. And she still has the double vision. Dr. Tumu did seem to acknowledge that there might be some credence to my floppy brain lobe theory for the double vision. Maybe. But don’t be looking for him to author the journal article just yet. Next step in regard to her double vision is an appointment with a neuro-opthamologist. Had no idea that such a thing even existed. Life is learning. Sooo…. All kinds of reasons to be positive and grateful. It feels really good to be saying more “Thank You” than “Please”, both in my prayers and to each of you. Dr. Tumu and his team deserve credit for their skilled work and care, but the bigger contributor to Lisa’s health is a mountain of prayer. Thank you. Please don’t stop!
2 Comments
I’ve been on fun rides in amusement parks that rely of the pendulum effect… swinging back and forth to get just us - or a whole boatload of people - flying high. Back and forth and back, and it takes only a little energy input to keep the thing flying. But going nowhere. The pendulum now is between optimism and pessimism… between faith and darkness. Yesterday was beautiful and crisp and sunny outside, but for me it was dark. It felt like any other day of a month or two months or six months ago. Lisa mostly slept. When she was awake she was slow and frail. Emotionally flat. Speaking too softly to hear, like that was the limit of her energy. It sent me down the path of asking what if… what if there really is no significant change? What if life as we knew it is the way it will remain? With each “what if” the light faded… the darkness grew. A patient and rational man would say that she's on pain meds and is healing, that it's just 9 days post surgery, and to give it some time. And I'm left to guessing at what a patient and rational man might say. I thought about writing a post yesterday, but I didn’t. If I had, it would have been titled “Optimism Sucks…” or something slightly more crude. But fortunately, I was too busy to write yesterday. I’m working really hard in preparation for an important meeting on Monday, and it’s a project that I’m really excited about. I really don’t have time to be writing now, but I keep getting these nudges from friends telling me how much they appreciate the updates. Seems like I’m always getting nudged to do the things I know I need to. That’s how the Spirit works. Through you. So I am writing now, and the pendulum has swung back to the lighter side. Lisa was up fairly early this morning on her own. Unheard of! She has some snap back in her voice, and she is working the phones – in part to replace the phone she lost when she was in the Philadelphia Airport. If you haven’t read those posts you should go back and find them. At the end you may feel a little sadistic – having enjoyed my pain… in a literary sense at least. Damn good story though. I wish I had made it up. Enough for now; I have to get back to work! Oh – but optimism doesn’t suck. Pessimism sucks! Keep praying for Lisa. Please. Not saying that today is a bad day, per se. But Lisa’s smile has turned back into a frown, and she is not dancing at the moment. She is moving slow, talking in a murmur, and not at all happy with her current look – the swelling around her eyes and in her forehead are a little worse today. You can tell that the pain is not totally under control. We will work on that. But if you consider what her body and her brain have been subjected to, it is amazing that she is at home and doing so well. At about this moment one week ago, they were installing the titanium screws and plates that secure the newly cut headbone access panel to Lisa’s brain. Which is where I have to take a Dad moment and brag on my beautiful daughter. Sitting in the waiting room, while her mother’s brain was exposed to open air somewhere in that same building, I asked Elise how she was doing. She’s almost 26 and a strong and capable woman, but this kind of deal is scary for all of us. Her response wasn’t at all about Elise, or even about Lisa. She sat there next to me and said how she couldn’t help but think about all of the people who don’t have access to the kind of care her Mom was getting. The ones who would never even get the right diagnosis, and the ones who do but can’t afford the treatment. I do believe the girl gets what Christianity is all about. If I ever need affirmation that I’ve done something right in my life, I look at my three kids and get it in triplicate. I thank God, and of course Lisa, for that. Please continue to keep her in your prayers. She still has a hill to climb... but she'll get there with a little help from her friends! We got home yesterday in the early afternoon. Dear Bonnie was abnormally subdued. I guess she can sense a cracked coconut when she’s around one, and she knew to be careful. Lisa sat up in the living room for longer than she should have, but there was an occasion behind it. She never could pass on a good party. Her parent’s 58th wedding anniversary was yesterday, and it was a fine reason to have a doubly professionally prepared meal, ala Zac and Erin, to wish them well and to speed Lisa to recovery with healthy, beautiful food. And then Lisa got that most special of all treats – an undisturbed night of sleep. But last night, when I pointed out that potential, Lisa was quick to note that she would still be up in the middle of the night. She made that point as she was setting her phone alarm for her pain med. She is a believer in staying ahead of the pain. Smart woman. Cracked coconut and all. So midday today, as a visit by my sister, who flew down from Maine for the surgery and is flying back today, approached, I asked Lisa if she was ready to get up for a while. Without raising her head from the pillow she said that she had messed up and waited too long between pain pills. I asked her if there was anything she needed me to do. She replied that she had waited until drugs were wearing off, but that she had taken the pill and that now they were "wearing back in". She kind of giggled. So Lisa went off to La La Land for a while, Trisha and Sarah and Jake and I took the bambinos to the park, and then we got in a nice but brief visit with Lisa before their departure. And then another nap. Tomorrow I hope to interview Lisa for you… I’m sure were all interested to see what’s going on in there now. I know I am. Right now, all my prayers seem to begin with "Thank You". Very cool!!! Lisa’s not thinking straight. Here she is at St. David’s Medical Center, getting the best care imaginable by the most professional and caring people she could hope for. St. David’s obviously didn’t get the memo about what hospital food is supposed to be, because here she has a menu of well prepared, delicious foods to choose from. One whole wall of her room is a picture window with a ledge seat, and the picture in this window includes the State Capitol, Darrell K. Royal Stadium, and the U.T. Tower. Lisa saw the stadium turn burnt orange with fans on Saturday from her bed. This was taken later that evening from her bedside: So… as for not thinking straight. Here she is in the best of care, with good food in a nice room with a great view, and she has to go showing off in the hallway and gets herself kicked out. That’s right – after seeing her doing the stairs and dancing in the hall with Elise, they’re giving her room to someone who really needs it. Today! So there’s a red dog in Northwest Austin who is a risk of a heart attack later today. Lisa is her favorite person on the planet, and Bonnie’s been moping around ever since she left. We should gather up all the breakables in the living room - she’ll be bouncing from couch back to couch back when Lisa gets home. Lisa is feeling good. She describes the vision thing as "wonky" and giving her a "Salvador Dali" view of the world, but she does seem to be seeing some improvement in that regard. Still, the rectangular cabinets occasionally appear trapezoidal to her, and in looking down to descend the stairs yesterday she said they appeared to bend away from her. She is taking it all in stride and with her old sense of humor. She'll be on an anti-seizure med for the next three weeks, and will have a pain med prescription to take as needed. Inching beck toward life as normal. She got to shower and wash her hair last night, and she's already transitioned from hospital gown to her own clothes. I just hope they get the discharge papers done before she goes renegade again! I will keep the updates coming, and you keep the prayers coming. Deal? Your prayers are doing their stuff! The rate of Lisa’s recovery is amazing. It is clear from listening to her talk that a reboot of sorts has happened. The removal of the foreign body and all that pressure has Lisa fully engaged again mentally. If we don’t get her out of here soon, she’ll be directing the entire nursing and technical staff, and likely the doctors as well, on the 4th floor of St. David’s. If not the whole hospital. We’ve awakened a monster. A friendly, sensitive, funny one. And firing on all 8 cylinders! She’s gone from walking around her bed with a walker and sitting up for a bit on Friday morning to long walks in the hall yesterday, and elevated challenges of her own making today. One odd symptom that she is having – should you need a spot to target your prayers – is with her vision. With her head upright or leaning to her right, the vision in her right eye gives an image that is tilted about 10 degrees to the side and lower than the image of her left eye. But if she tilts her head to her left, the double vision goes away and she sees clearly. My theory is that because of the air gap that currently exists, maybe one of the newly unrestrained frontal lobes of her brain is able to shift positions depending on the position of her head, and that maybe it can rotate through about that same 10 degree angle. Bird brains have built in GPS, maybe our brain cells do too. So if her gray matter on her left lobe can flop over through a 10 degree rotation, then it interprets the visual image incorrectly. That’s just my theory. Neither Lisa or Dr. Tumu buy into my theory, but I’m OK with that. He says that the brain will adjust and that this will pass. I think that when the air space fills with CSV fluid then the floppy brain will be restrained. Either way, Lisa is good. Tilting her head to the side makes her seem curious, and curiosity is a good thing. So is getting a little exercise right after getting your coconut cracked open. You have your minimalists, your overachievers, and then you have your show offs. Just walking isn’t enough for Lisa. She’s dancing in the hallway with her daughter... And just when she got the party rolling and had us all distracted, she made her break! The escape attempt we all dreaded. And of course, being Lisa, she didn’t take the elevator. The stairs are a better workout… All kinds of reasons to be happy and optimistic. We are turning the pages of an incredible story, and we are all dying to know what the next weeks and months hold for Lisa, and for all of us. Please help us pray Thanks, and then for continued healing. Thank you again! Oh yeah… We have good reason to believe that she may be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. More then! It’s so easy to utter a word or phrase. The ability to lift up or tear down someone with such a simple thing is kind of scary. It makes you think about maybe thinking about what you say before you say it. Name calling is maybe the shallowest and most dangerous form of this snare to our souls. I feel driven to crusade against one name that I have used in the past, rarely, but will never use again. I ask you to take a similar vow. This crusade is near to my heart, because my soul mate is one. OK, this is the very last time I will use the term, but only with love surrounding it on every side. Lisa is an airhead. It’s a temporary situation. The evil monkey, although he will not be missed in the least, did leave a physical void. Air. Room for Lisa’s magnificent and unburdened brain to expand into. Violin, piano, foreign languages, long lost skills and interests. But at this moment, that re-annexed real estate is, you guessed it, air. The space will soon fill with cerebrospinal fluid, but my love’s temporary condition has made me more sensitive to the potentially hurtful nature of a term that I won’t be typing or saying again. If you have short term memory issues, just go back and read the beginning of this post again. Lisa is doing great. Her parents are there with her now, and Zac spent the night with her last night. I'll take the next shift, and Elise is queued up for the night shift tonight. Got her covered. I slept in my own bed last night. Deep sleep. No promises, but I hope to update you again tonight after seeing her. Or tomorrow for sure. If you don’t mind, please say a quick one now for her… No complications, no pain, quick healing, and THANK YOU GOD! This woman is tough as nails! This morning they got her up and walking for the first time since surgery. She walked around the hospital bed and sat in the chair for about an hour and a half before going down to the basement for a chest xray. The xray was to confirm that her lungs are clear – she ran a slight fever yesterday that raised the concern about the possibility of pneumonia. But the xray looked good, and she was moved from intensive care to a regular room this evening. So Lisa is up and about, smiling, talking, laughing, and on the road back to the real deal. If you’ve read from the start, you know that the story is far from over. In many ways, it’s just beginning. Please continue to keep Lisa in your prayers, and we’ll continue to keep you updated on how this new chapter of her life, and our life, unfolds. Please keep the prayers coming. There is still a lot of healing to do, but she is on the road now! For those of you who would like to know - this is my best shot at describing the procedure that Lisa is now recovering from. There is no recovery for the evil monkey. This is your warning if you are the queasy type or would really just rather not let these mental images into your own head. If that is you, just skip this post.
Frontal Craniotomy… now 2 out of 5 members of my household have had one. I’m thinking that’s more than our fair share, and we’re not looking for the third. Zac’s was to repair BMX damage, and Lisa’s was to kill the monkey, but the mechanical procedure is basically the same. They begin with an incision that essentially goes from ear to ear over the top of your head. With Zac, they shaved his head and made a zigzag incision that made the scar less visible after his hair grew back. But surgeons vary in their techniques. In Lisa’s case, Dr. Tumu made s straight incision that allowed Lisa to keep her hair – so no shaved head. After making the incision, they basically peeled the skin of her forehead down to expose her skull. Then out comes the bone saw, and a rectangular section of her skull is temporarily removed to expose her brain and, more importantly, the tumor. Before proceeding further, they place small shields at the interface between the tumor and her brain – to protect the brain from the torture device. Then they attacked the monkey. Based on Dr. Tumu’s description, I envision the monkey killer as a miniaturized version of the tunneling machines I’ve seen on Discovery channel. Eating away at the tumor from the inside out, chewing it up and sucking it out and away, hollowing it until it collapses into itself and is removed in total. Then with the tumor fully removed, they repaired the meninges – the protective lining around her brain from which the tumor sprang. Then look around for that skull section that was removed, fit it back in like a missing puzzle piece, and secure it with 5 or 6 small titanium plates and screws. Stretch the skin of her forehead back up over the front of her skull, and then stitch up the incision. Done deal! It’s a little after 7 in the morning. I said yesterday that I would post again later in the day. I stand corrected. Lisa’s day yesterday went well. They got her to sit up on the edge of her bed and then stand up for two minutes. Today she should get to walk… baby steps back to life as she knew it. Again last night, Lisa seemed to get good sleep in the intervals between being cared for. They are doing neurological tests every hour… checking to confirm that her brain is really in command of her movements. I keep wondering when they will begin the emotional testing – to see if she gets angry or happy or scared or excited. I guess the emotional testing will fall to me. I’m sure I can come up with something. Lisa had just one day with her happy green button, and then they took it away from her. She still can get pain meds when she asks for them, but it’s further away than the tip of her finger. Dr. Tumu just came in for morning rounds and checked her over. She is looking good – from Dr. Tumu’s standpoint. Among the less fashionable aspects of post-craniotomy life are the drains… clear plastic tubes that run below the skin of her forehead and exit to a small suction bulb. That’s where blood and fluids are collected after being drained from the surgical trauma zone. Dr. Tumu said that the drains can come out today, and that she will be able to shampoo her hair on Sunday. He also said she can move to a regular diet – she has been on just clear liquids since surgery – and that they will start advancing her physical therapy to get her up and moving around a little more today. He also ordered the blood pressure measurement interval to shift to every 4 hours; until now it has been every 15 minutes. Not having the cuff firing off every 15 minutes should do wonders in terms of Lisa getting some solid sleep. All very positive news! I did promise to tell you more about the surgery in yesterday’s second post that wasn’t. That will come in a separate post shortly after this one – really! It is segregated because of its content rating – it may not be suitable for all audiences. Bottom line is that Lisa is doing great, but please do keep the prayers coming! |
AuthorWritten by David, with review and approval by Lisa before posting Archives
January 2018
Categories |