Have I got a story for you!
First of all, a running update: Running? What's that?
I have a very good excuse:
(I posted this on Facebook and thought my blogging friends might be curious where I've been lately...Here you go...)
Two weeks ago tomorrow, my mom started hemorrhaging and was taken to the hospital in College Station. It was deemed that the bleeding was caused by an infection in the area where she had colon surgery a couple of months ago. She received a unit of blood, was transferred to the ICU and was pumped full of antibiotics. It was thought that the antibiotics would stop the bleeding and it seemed to have worked. On that following Thursday, she was transferred out of ICU. Overnight she started bleeding again, alot, and was transferred back to ICU. I went into town on Friday, and she was clearly very sick. Her heart rate would soar as she lost blood, then would stabilize when she received a transfusion. Discussion ensued about getting her to MD Anderson for surgery, which was now necessary but risky because of the area and scar tissue build up. It was not something anyone wanted to do but we had no choice now.
Side note...why MD Anderson? She does not have cancer but did have very aggressive radiation treatment over 13 years ago in her left abdomen/hip area to treat her cancer then. In the past year, she has had a kidney removed and colon surgery and has bone deterioration, all resulting from the radiation damage. Why were we just seeing all of these affects now? Her doctors were expecting to give her 5 more years, not 13+, so now she is dealing with dying tissue and cells that were so damaged.
Anyway, when my dad and I arrived at the hospital the next morning (last Saturday) we were expecting to meet with the doctors and determine how to get her to MD Anderson that weekend. Instead, when we walked into the room, my mother was yelling in pain and was losing a lot of blood. She looked terrible, and I sat at her bedside wiping her face and forehead with cold washcloths. They gave her more transfusions but they only seemed to work for a while. Things became even more dire over the next hour as doctors were scrambling and arrangements were being made for life flight.
It was during this time that we had to say goodbye to my mom. She didn't think she was going to make it and neither did we. It was heartbreaking. We called my brother and sister in law so they could talk to her and say goodbye too. My dad and I were just in a state of shock at how quickly things plummeted. Finally, the life flight people arrived, and by that time, doctors were literally pushing blood into her as she was losing it so quickly. We watched the helicopter take off, and we too left for Houston. My dad was heading straight to the hospital and I was heading to the airport to pick up my brother and sister in law, who caught the next flight out of Dallas.
The chopper flight to Houston was to be about 30 minutes. I remember thinking on the way "okay, my mom's in surgery now." Well, as I was about to get to the airport, my dad called and said the helicopter never made it to MD Anderson because of the weather. We had no idea where she was and were absolutely freaked out, certain she would not survive this delay, and who knows what was being done to her at this other hospital. When we all finally made it to MDA, we found out the helicopter had to stop at a hospital in north Houston and Mom was driven in an ambulance to MDA.
The next thing I remember was the team of doctors coming to talk with us. They had scanned her to identify the exact source of bleeding, which ended up being a burst artery, not her colon, and the burst was most likely caused by a back up of blood caused by a clot in her left leg. They were able to seal the artery without major surgery. At that time, they gave her a 50/50 chance of surviving and warned us of organ failure and the possibility of her losing her leg. It was a grim diagnosis. They also told us that if they immediately did surgery before the scan, she would have bled to death.
So we waited to see her in the Critical Care Unit that night, absolutely exhausted and emotional. We were told she was given a paralytic drug to keep her from moving around, and that she wouldn't be responsive, which was the case when we saw her. It was hard to see, because she was so pumped full of fluids and blood that she was very swollen, and wires and tubes were sticking out of her everywhere. I made some difficult phone calls to concerned family and friends. We decided to leave and get something to eat, because we had some long days ahead.
As we got close to my house and were preparing to find a restaurant, my dad received a call from the cardiovascular doctor to come back to the hospital. We headed back to meet with the doctor, who informed us that he found no signs of brain activity or function, and that she was either severely brain damaged or brain dead. They were going to run the brain function tests overnight but we should expect the worst. We asked about the paralytic drug and was told she was not given one. We were beyond devastated. As we comforted each other in a state of absolute despair, my brother and sister in law went in to see my mom. They said she slightly responded with head movements a couple of times, but that did not happen when my dad and I were in the room. We truly believed she was gone and that the next day, we would be making some tough decisions.
No one slept last Saturday night. We were beyond shocked and devastated. I cannot even begin to describe the feeling of your guts being ripped out. The drive to the hospital the next morning was very somber. We got to my mom's room, and upon seeing her motionless and swollen, and presumably brain dead, my dad and I lost it. We went into the hallway, but there was no consoling each other. My mom was gone.
Then, I remember my brother coming around the corner and telling us that she was trying to open her eyes and wanted to communicate by writing (a breathing tube kept her from talking). We rushed in and sure enough, she began to respond to our voices. She was in restraints to keep her from pulling everything out but it was clear she wanted to write. We got her a paper and pen, but the writing was pretty illegible and we were not understanding what she was trying to communicate. Then she took the pen and started making a bunch of circles, like you do when you try to get the ink in your pen to work again. It was like a game of pictionary...circles, circular, circulation, coil, etc...all which got a "no" headshake from my mom. Then she started thrashing her arms around and I tried to get her to calm down, and I thought she's alive, but there is clearly some brain damage. Then she wrote again, very clearly, the word "helicopter." A-ha! The circles and movement of her hands were trying to ask us about the helicopter! She thought she was still in College Station waiting to get on the helicopter. We explained what happened, and she wrote "what's next?"
As hard as it was to feel the lowest of the low Saturday night and Sunday morning, in about a minute, we were going to the highest of the high. My mom was alive and communicating. We were giddy, really. We spent the rest of the day trying to wrap our minds around what happened and how quickly devastation turned to hope and optimism. Relief is the best way to describe it. On Monday, she was stable enough for doctors to do an artery bypass in her leg to save it.
As the days have passed, she keeps improving beyond expectations. She has now been moved out of ICU into a regular room, and there is talk about releasing her to a rehab center in Bryan/College Station in the next few days, depending on what some scans of the affected area show on Monday . She has a very long recovery ahead of her but we remain very hopeful that she will eventually make a full recovery. She is fully communicating, is alert, and her swelling has gone down a ton. She's anxious to get out and start therapy and hopefully get full use of her leg back. She has had some bleeding here and there, but no one is concerned, and she has certainly not needed more transfusions.
As close as my family was before this, we became even closer during this time, sharing our emotions and being there for each other, thinking the worst then experiencing the best. We are all just beyond exhausted but find it hard to complain because we could have easily been planning a funeral right now instead of trying to get some rest here and there.
Events that I find interesting and fascinating, how everything that seemed disasterous at the time came together perfectly:
1. If the life flight didn't get to College Station when it did, the doctors there were prepared to open her up and stop the bleeding. If surgery had happened, she would have died because the source of the bleeding was not where it was thought to be.
2. The chopper left College Station with two units of blood. Being forced by weather to land before their destination most likely saved my mom's life, as they ran out of blood and got another 10 units from the hospital they stopped at. All ten units had been used at the hospital and in ambulance transit.
3. The doctor at MDA said my mom literally did not have another minute to spare. This happened on a Saturday morning...during the week, traffic would have been unbearable on 290.
4. All in all, in about a 24+ hour span, she received over 20 units of blood (I think. There are a couple of different calculations floating around), about twice the amount normally in her body.
5. She did indeed receive the paralytic drug, which explains why she was non-responsive Saturday night. Apparently that drug even paralyzes your pupils and reflexes.
Soooo, I'm ready to get back to running! Comfort food is indeed comforting but my waistline is disappearing!
24 Weeks Later: A running Saga
1 year ago
