Another lovely meal at the Highline Diner, with sons Steve and Jim and grandchildren Jonny and Hailey in attendance.
This time there were no interruptions from therapists or doctors. Even without the interruptions, it takes well over an hour to finish, if you can call it finished when half the food is left. Getting the calories she needs is a challenge but I expect with more therapy she will work up more of an appetite.
There was more right hand and arm movement than last night, but not as much as at 11:30 this morning. But remember, last night's movement was tiny, and the doctor called it 'humungous'. Being a work night for me, I left her with Steve, in and out of sleep.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Look: I Can Move My Hand
Message to Dr. Heide: "Last night you used the word "Humongous" to describe the movement of one of Bettie's right hand fingers about a quarter of an inch. Please let me know what word to use to describe this:
My older brother Bruce and his wife Parvin are visiting this morning. When it is time to leave, he extends his had to Bettie to shake "Goodbye". She lifts the (paralyzed) right hand to his and he shakes it.
From your vocabulary of big doctor words, come up with one for that, if you can.
So that was how my morning with Bettie ended. It began with me arriving at 9 a.m. and feeding her breakfast for the next hour and ten minutes. She did just fine with everything. We took our time and she ate well, probably about as much as she would at home. This is good because she is keeping her calorie intake up, which develops her strength and healing. (Hmm, what did they put in that breakfast food? :)
During breakfast we took a little break for some speech therapy. It was while she was occupied with the therapist that I first noticed some finger movement on the right side ... a couple of times I thought I detected something.
Later, Bettie's case worker came in and we discussed where she would go next and what to expect there. The consensus was the rehab center at Auburn Medical Center, four floors above where she lay in the ER, exactly one week ago today.
On my way home from Highline Hospital, I stopped in at Auburn Medical Center and had a complete tour by the lead rehab physician, Dr. Sultana. I'm sure that is the place for her, and it is a mere 12 minutes away from home. I described Bettie's latest achievement and he agreed it was, "(insert Dr. Heide's big word here)".
He also said, the more stuff that comes back and the sooner it comes back, the better the long-term prognosis.
I've got to say this is really, really ___________________.
My older brother Bruce and his wife Parvin are visiting this morning. When it is time to leave, he extends his had to Bettie to shake "Goodbye". She lifts the (paralyzed) right hand to his and he shakes it.
From your vocabulary of big doctor words, come up with one for that, if you can.
So that was how my morning with Bettie ended. It began with me arriving at 9 a.m. and feeding her breakfast for the next hour and ten minutes. She did just fine with everything. We took our time and she ate well, probably about as much as she would at home. This is good because she is keeping her calorie intake up, which develops her strength and healing. (Hmm, what did they put in that breakfast food? :)
During breakfast we took a little break for some speech therapy. It was while she was occupied with the therapist that I first noticed some finger movement on the right side ... a couple of times I thought I detected something.
Later, Bettie's case worker came in and we discussed where she would go next and what to expect there. The consensus was the rehab center at Auburn Medical Center, four floors above where she lay in the ER, exactly one week ago today.
On my way home from Highline Hospital, I stopped in at Auburn Medical Center and had a complete tour by the lead rehab physician, Dr. Sultana. I'm sure that is the place for her, and it is a mere 12 minutes away from home. I described Bettie's latest achievement and he agreed it was, "(insert Dr. Heide's big word here)".
He also said, the more stuff that comes back and the sooner it comes back, the better the long-term prognosis.
I've got to say this is really, really ___________________.
And Now, a Word From Our Sponsor
The tool Steve and I are using to create this blog is owned by Google, you know them…yea, that Google. One of the features it allows me to do is put commercial ads along side the posts, as a means of earning a little something. Of course I'm not doing that, and won't. But if you'd allow me just this once, I would like to put in a word for a commercial enterprise that has risen so far above and beyond reason to accommodate me in this -- what shall we call it? -- this adventure?... that they deserve some favorable mention.
That entity is UPS. Yea, good old Big Brown.
The company I work for, iShip, is a little, but important, subsidiary of UPS. We create, manage, and host the retail shipping software used in all the UPS Stores, and also in a lot of other customer locations; like Nordstrom for instance. The people here are like a little family.
I guess there are around 50 of us, but from time to time we are visited by high level people from UPS and they make us feel like we are the real reason UPS is successful. Good people do that.
I write the online Help for our products, and dabble in training documentation, Flash demos, and such. My contribution is not on the critical path of our products functionality, but the people here make me feel very important. People ask me: "Dick, why aren't you retired?". "What, and let UPS fail? I couldn't do that!" Is my answer :-)
Like many very large companies, UPS self insures. That means that the health insurance we enroll in here at iShip, and the ultimate payer for Bettie's treatment, will be UPS. To me, of course, this is huge, huge, huge. Probably no big deal in the grand scheme of things for UPS but nevertheless, I'm grateful beyond words to have it.
But it isn't the insurance and the monetary considerations that make UPS and iShip great, it's the people...the heart.
UPS was founded right here where I live, in the Puget Sound area, actually in downtown Seattle. (The headquarters is now in Atlanta...or is it the iShip building in Factoria?) The founder, Jim Casey, was obsessed with two things: reliable on-time package delivery, and corporate integrity. The integrity part is what shows up in times like this.
Here are some of ways this UPS spirit has affected me:
- Tuesday morning, on my way from the hospital in Auburn to the hospital in Burien I get a cell call from my good iShip buddy Sid Heinz. (Sid is the one that "brought" me from a previous company where we both worked.) This is very early in the episode and Bettie's life, let alone quality of life, is still very much in question. "Forget everything here" Sid told me "Concentrate on Bettie, we've got it all covered here. We're praying for you".
Ever try driving with tears in your eyes? Don't try it. - Tuesday afternoon, just after Bettie's procedure with Dr Wiess, I'm at her bedside and I get a call on my cell phone from Tim Davis. Tim runs two of UPS's subsidiaries from his homebase in San Diego. iShip is one of them. He's got two companies to run, but he's calling to encourage me...he didn't have to do that.
It undoes me now, just to remember it. - Wednesday I'm making my first contact back to iShip and Cheryl Gray, our HR gal appears to have dropped everything to look into insurance issues for me. Very helpful. Then the next day I get this e-mail from her, subject: "Just checking in".
It was a lot more than that...lots of insurance info, etc.., But that subject line just made me feel...supported. - Just last night I get this (an excerpt from a longer message) from Shaindell Goldhaber, my immediate supervisor: "Please let me know if there’s anything you need, either personally or work related. Your work family will do everything it can to support you during this stressful time. I understand your need/desire to work, so I won’t chastise you for coming in. Just be sure you give yourself all the time you need to support Bettie and to take care of yourself as well."
What a sweetheart I work for.
I could go on with other support I've gotten from my work family, but you get the idea that these are special people indeed.
So, if you are one of the countless people who have said "Just let me know if there is anything I can do", my answer is "Ship something using UPS!"
What can Brown do for you? More than you'll probably ever know.
Monday, June 29, 2009
A Dinner Date - A Happy Doctor
I just returned from my "dinner date" with my girl. It was awesome! She had the pureed green vegetable with mashed potato & gravy, and a lovely steak, or was it chicken ... or maybe turkey? Once the blender finishes with it, it's kind of hard to tell.
She did just fine with the chewing, what little was required, and swallowing. She held her drink in her left hand and drank by herself. Eventually, I expect she will be feeding herself, left handed. But one step at a time.
Steve was with me and filmed some of the dinner. (Do you still say "filmed" when there isn't film anymore??) All in all, it was easily as memorable as our 50th anniversary dinner a few weeks ago. It ended a little differently, but that's OK. She ate about a quarter of a substantial portion, became fascinated with the TV in the background, and fell asleep. It was beautiful.
During dinner, we were pleased to see the indefatigable Dr. Heide, who dropped in to check up on her. He was absolutely delighted to see her eating. "This is wonderful to see" he said as he began his standard tests:
"What is your name?" (no answer).
"Can you wiggle your toes?" (Maybe a little movement).
But then he held up her right hand and held his other hand in front of hers and began wiggling his fingers for her to copy. He saw movement there, voluntary movement. It wasn't much but it was something. His response was "This is humongous, I'm liking what I'm seeing. Wow!"
Well, who needs strolling violinists with dinner when you can have a table guest like that?
Dr. Heide did say the the big thing we'll have to be careful of now is seeing that she gets sufficient calories. Healing takes a lot of energy and she will now have to get that by mouth. We think the limited intake this evening is due to the fact that she has not had food by mouth for a full week, so we'll be watching that calorie count.
So all she did today was pass a swallowing test, get her feeding tube removed, do more PT, including standing, and have a lovely dinner with a handsome guy who smiled a lot :-)
Go girl!!
She did just fine with the chewing, what little was required, and swallowing. She held her drink in her left hand and drank by herself. Eventually, I expect she will be feeding herself, left handed. But one step at a time.
Steve was with me and filmed some of the dinner. (Do you still say "filmed" when there isn't film anymore??) All in all, it was easily as memorable as our 50th anniversary dinner a few weeks ago. It ended a little differently, but that's OK. She ate about a quarter of a substantial portion, became fascinated with the TV in the background, and fell asleep. It was beautiful.
During dinner, we were pleased to see the indefatigable Dr. Heide, who dropped in to check up on her. He was absolutely delighted to see her eating. "This is wonderful to see" he said as he began his standard tests:
"What is your name?" (no answer).
"Can you wiggle your toes?" (Maybe a little movement).
But then he held up her right hand and held his other hand in front of hers and began wiggling his fingers for her to copy. He saw movement there, voluntary movement. It wasn't much but it was something. His response was "This is humongous, I'm liking what I'm seeing. Wow!"
Well, who needs strolling violinists with dinner when you can have a table guest like that?
Dr. Heide did say the the big thing we'll have to be careful of now is seeing that she gets sufficient calories. Healing takes a lot of energy and she will now have to get that by mouth. We think the limited intake this evening is due to the fact that she has not had food by mouth for a full week, so we'll be watching that calorie count.
So all she did today was pass a swallowing test, get her feeding tube removed, do more PT, including standing, and have a lovely dinner with a handsome guy who smiled a lot :-)
Go girl!!
At Last...Real Food!
Kim (Bettie's daughter) just sent a text message reporting that the nurses just removed mom's feeding tube and that Kim is feeding her lunch.
This is huge because earlier the doctor was not sure if she would pass her swallowing test (and because she was trying to pull her current feeding tube through the nose out at times). In which case they would require a very short, minor operation to put a semi-permanent feeding tube into her stomach.
The food will be pureed, apple sauce and such for a while. No chewing for now. But this is a big day! We're all high-five-ing! (In fact I high-fived mom but I'm not sure she knew what the excitement was all about. I'll bet she was thinking, "Eating apple sauce from a spoon? Big deal!")
This is huge because earlier the doctor was not sure if she would pass her swallowing test (and because she was trying to pull her current feeding tube through the nose out at times). In which case they would require a very short, minor operation to put a semi-permanent feeding tube into her stomach.
The food will be pureed, apple sauce and such for a while. No chewing for now. But this is a big day! We're all high-five-ing! (In fact I high-fived mom but I'm not sure she knew what the excitement was all about. I'll bet she was thinking, "Eating apple sauce from a spoon? Big deal!")
When Do We Eat?
Our trooper made some very meaningful progress this morning: She passed her swallowing test!
To be strictly accurate, the speech therapist, who administered the test, said she would tell Dr. Duncan the results and he would decide what to do with regard to the feeding tube issue. However, the secret that I didn't tell the therapist was that Dr. Duncan had been in earlier and he told me that he and I would decide together about the tube, after her test. I'm sure he will concur with me, that the tube is no longer required now.
I can hardly wait for my evening visit. I expect to be able to feed her myself, from a plate. Considering where we have been in the last week, I'm looking forward to this dinner more than the dinner we enjoyed together at Palisade on our 50th anniversary last month.
You'll excuse me if this report is brief, but I've got a dinner date to get ready for :)
To be strictly accurate, the speech therapist, who administered the test, said she would tell Dr. Duncan the results and he would decide what to do with regard to the feeding tube issue. However, the secret that I didn't tell the therapist was that Dr. Duncan had been in earlier and he told me that he and I would decide together about the tube, after her test. I'm sure he will concur with me, that the tube is no longer required now.
I can hardly wait for my evening visit. I expect to be able to feed her myself, from a plate. Considering where we have been in the last week, I'm looking forward to this dinner more than the dinner we enjoyed together at Palisade on our 50th anniversary last month.
You'll excuse me if this report is brief, but I've got a dinner date to get ready for :)
To Pray for Bettie, Click Here
I know many of you following Bettie's progress are people of faith. I can't count the number of "Our thoughts and prayers are with you..." messages the family has received in comments here, e-mails, and directly. They mean a lot...really.
However, if you are not a person of faith, I'm going to have my son Steve, insert a "Pray for Bettie" button on the blog, so you can just click it occasionally and feel good. Huh? Oh, sorry. Steve says he can't do that. I guess we'll have to just do it the old fashioned way.
Seriously though, for those of you who are praying, I'd like to share some specific things that are on my heart that you could lift up:
However, if you are not a person of faith, I'm going to have my son Steve, insert a "Pray for Bettie" button on the blog, so you can just click it occasionally and feel good. Huh? Oh, sorry. Steve says he can't do that. I guess we'll have to just do it the old fashioned way.
Seriously though, for those of you who are praying, I'd like to share some specific things that are on my heart that you could lift up:
- Number one on the family's mind is to pray for peace in Bettie's mind. The hardest part of every day, is leaving her bedside. We usually wait until she is asleep to slip away. Then we wonder, "Did she wake up and find no one there, is she afraid, confused, lonely, wondering why we have abandoned her?" You can imagine the state these thoughts can put you in. We want to know that she is at peace with it all.
- The family needs that same peace...to know that she is OK, when we can't be there. Especially mention our son Rick, who works in Las Vegas, and can't be here with his mother, where his heart is.
- Please include Dr Aaron Heide in your prayers. He works tirelessly with stroke patients all over the Puget Sound area, at great personal sacrifice. He has seen Bettie every day, weekends included, sharing his professionalism...and his heart.
Of course, the God we love and serve can do anything, we know that. It goes without saying that we would love to have her just come home, whole and well today. Nothing wrong with praying for that. But while we await that event, we are looking for (and already seeing, here and there) the promise that "All things work together for good to them that love God..." (Rom 8:28) Pray that this promise will yeild much fruit. Think of the thrill Bettie will have, when all the good that has come from her trial is revealed to her.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Off to Work - Therapy Begins
Bettie had a full day of visitors and seemed to handle it well. The most significant visitor however, was not there to visit...but to work! It was her physical therapist, there for her first session.
She did very well indeed..."determined" was the word the therapist used. She sat on
the edge of the bed without tipping, demonstrating good balance. Then she stood with assistance and did fine with that too. A number of other activities rounded out the session. All in all, a vigorous work out that she passed with flying colors.
There are two levels of therapy: the most aggressive one is three hours a day and the other is much shorter. She will be recommended for the more aggressive one, based on today's performance.
As you can imagine, by the time 6:30 came around she was ready for some well deserved sleep. So, without even bidding "Good night" to the six of us in the room, she nodded off.
Sweet dreams my love.
She did very well indeed..."determined" was the word the therapist used. She sat on
the edge of the bed without tipping, demonstrating good balance. Then she stood with assistance and did fine with that too. A number of other activities rounded out the session. All in all, a vigorous work out that she passed with flying colors.There are two levels of therapy: the most aggressive one is three hours a day and the other is much shorter. She will be recommended for the more aggressive one, based on today's performance.
As you can imagine, by the time 6:30 came around she was ready for some well deserved sleep. So, without even bidding "Good night" to the six of us in the room, she nodded off.
Sweet dreams my love.
The Doctor's Prognosis
It's kind of a shock to walk into your wife's hospital room and find someone else in "her" bed. You can imagine the initial reaction when you are dealing with stuff that is sometimes terminal. To my relief though, she had only been moved. Whew!
So, if you visit, you will now find her in the "Cedar" wing of Highline Medical Center, room 526. Take a left out of the elevator, then a right after passing over the cafeteria, to find her room. It is a nice single bed room with a view of the SeaTac Airport. (Hmm...SeaTac Airport. Did I tell you that that is where we met? She worked in Northwest Airlines reservation center, in the upstairs of the big Northwest hanger, and I worked on the planes, down on the maintenance floor, as an A & P mechanic.)
Sweetie was awake and responsive for most of the 2 1/2 hours I spent with her this morning. The most impressive response, and it was not actually a response to anything, she simply asked me at one point: "Do you know what time it is?". Now she didn't actually want to know the time, though I told her ... and the day and date too. It is encouraging to see that a seven-word phrase can be put together and spoken, even thought it is not related to anything else.
I was very grateful to have Doctor Heide appear at 10 a.m. for his daily check-in with her. I asked him: "Don't you ever get a day off?" "No" he replied, "but I'm coping". What a professional.
Anyway, after not seeing him for two days, I was full of questions. So here's his opinion of where we go from here, based on his 16 years of dealing with stroke and his current caseload of more than 1,000 patients:
So, if you visit, you will now find her in the "Cedar" wing of Highline Medical Center, room 526. Take a left out of the elevator, then a right after passing over the cafeteria, to find her room. It is a nice single bed room with a view of the SeaTac Airport. (Hmm...SeaTac Airport. Did I tell you that that is where we met? She worked in Northwest Airlines reservation center, in the upstairs of the big Northwest hanger, and I worked on the planes, down on the maintenance floor, as an A & P mechanic.)
Sweetie was awake and responsive for most of the 2 1/2 hours I spent with her this morning. The most impressive response, and it was not actually a response to anything, she simply asked me at one point: "Do you know what time it is?". Now she didn't actually want to know the time, though I told her ... and the day and date too. It is encouraging to see that a seven-word phrase can be put together and spoken, even thought it is not related to anything else.
I was very grateful to have Doctor Heide appear at 10 a.m. for his daily check-in with her. I asked him: "Don't you ever get a day off?" "No" he replied, "but I'm coping". What a professional.
Anyway, after not seeing him for two days, I was full of questions. So here's his opinion of where we go from here, based on his 16 years of dealing with stroke and his current caseload of more than 1,000 patients:
- She is past the critical stage, brain swelling is going down.
- The clot is not diminishing as I previously stated, but some blood is flowing past it. It will likely be permanent.
- She is expected to walk again, maybe with a limp or needing a cane.
- Her right hand and arm may have very limited, if any function.
- She will have difficulty communicating, but family will eventually get acquainted with her expressions and cope fairly well.
- She could possibly be ready to come home in three to six months.
- She will not have amnesia.
These are the high points of his prognosis. We all realize that each stroke case is different. As they say in the investment world: "Past experience is not indicative of future returns."
Oh, one other thing you should know. Dr. Heide is attempting to acquire a new state-of-the-art device that uses magnetism to stimulate brain tissue growth. He will be one of the first in the country to use the device, but the $50,000 price tag may delay it's acquisition. Let's pray that deal comes together.
After the doctor left, we had a nice long quiet time together, we both even fell asleep at one point. Finally, about 11:30 a.m. friends arrived to be with Bettie so I left her in their company.
On the way home, I stopped to have lunch and visit with dear old friends. What a joy to be hosted, loved, encouraged, accepted, and listened to by people of quality.
Honoring Bettie
Honor is kind of a big deal to me. It is to Bettie too, though we express it in different ways. The diminishing of the importance of honor in society is something we frequently lament in conversations together. Well, we did until this.
As society moves to a more casual approach to almost everything, I suppose our attempt to be honoring to others may make us look more and more out of step. For example: If Bettie and I dress up for a performance (to honor the performers) -- or most any time we leave the house -- and even the performers don't take notice, or, worse yet, they think we look funny or perhaps overdressed, have we been honoring? I wonder.
Nevertheless, we will continue our "outdated" or "old fashioned" ways. Honor may be old fashioned but it's never out of style.
I talked about honoring Bettie to family the other day: "Let's try to keep the kitchen looking as grandma would have it," was what I said to the grandchildren. Little stuff like that becomes even more important now I think. It keeps her presence real, though it isn't reality, for now. I find myself being more careful about the little things that are important to her, more careful than just last week even.
This shows the value of her uncompromising standards. They linger in her absence...and make us all better. What a woman!
As society moves to a more casual approach to almost everything, I suppose our attempt to be honoring to others may make us look more and more out of step. For example: If Bettie and I dress up for a performance (to honor the performers) -- or most any time we leave the house -- and even the performers don't take notice, or, worse yet, they think we look funny or perhaps overdressed, have we been honoring? I wonder.
Nevertheless, we will continue our "outdated" or "old fashioned" ways. Honor may be old fashioned but it's never out of style.
I talked about honoring Bettie to family the other day: "Let's try to keep the kitchen looking as grandma would have it," was what I said to the grandchildren. Little stuff like that becomes even more important now I think. It keeps her presence real, though it isn't reality, for now. I find myself being more careful about the little things that are important to her, more careful than just last week even.
This shows the value of her uncompromising standards. They linger in her absence...and make us all better. What a woman!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Let's make this Give and Take
When I began this blog, I mentioned that it might turn out to be therapy for me, beside being informational on Bettie's condition. That does seem to be happening, though I think it would be more so if more readers would venture to join in the conversation. If you want to comment in private, just send a traditional e-mail with BettiesChallenge in the subject line.
You can identify yourself by name or with an anonymous ID, it doesn't matter. Speaking of IDs, a funny thing happened: I received a comment from a "Gradpa Jim". I didn't know anyone with that ID, however he signed it at the bottom "Brother Jim". So I'm thinking: "Hmm, Brother Jim...where did we go to church where everyone called each other Brother? Hmm. Oh well, I'll probably hear from a lot of people I don't know." Only later did I wake up and realize that it was my own brother, Jim!
Anyway, I'm interested in hearing from you. I've loved the supportive comments and I'm especially interested if you have experience with stroke and recovery. Tell me your story or better yet, tell us your story.
You can identify yourself by name or with an anonymous ID, it doesn't matter. Speaking of IDs, a funny thing happened: I received a comment from a "Gradpa Jim". I didn't know anyone with that ID, however he signed it at the bottom "Brother Jim". So I'm thinking: "Hmm, Brother Jim...where did we go to church where everyone called each other Brother? Hmm. Oh well, I'll probably hear from a lot of people I don't know." Only later did I wake up and realize that it was my own brother, Jim!
Anyway, I'm interested in hearing from you. I've loved the supportive comments and I'm especially interested if you have experience with stroke and recovery. Tell me your story or better yet, tell us your story.
Updated Blog Functions - Add Comments
Comments functionality updated -- so it's easier to add your comments now. Registration is no longer required.
Please do add to the conversation if the feeling strikes you.
--steve
Please do add to the conversation if the feeling strikes you.
--steve
Many Visitors - Few Changes...Yet
When I arrived at 1:40 p.m. she was as awake and alert as she has been all week. Our sons Steve, Jim, and Tim were there, plus Tim's son Johnny. A little later, our daughter Kim arrived, so we had four out of five ... and then Rick called from Las Vegas, so that left just Veronica and Jordan (Tim's wife and daughter who were both there earlier today) for a full house.
When Bettie is awake like this she looks just completely natural, as if she might pop up and say "Hey, why don't we all go bowling or something". But she doesn't. She can't.
I guess it's a little much to expect 100 percent improvement every day. At that rate she would be home in a week. (Yikes, we'd better wash up the dishes, just in case that happens. :) This slow improvement is trying. But hey, it's improvement!
Once again, I missed Dr. Heide's visit, but some of the boys were there. He says she's not out of the woods yet on several issues: blood thinner is one and feeding tubes is another. These will require some decisions soon.
Verbally, she is about the same. She will occasionally volunteer comments that are coherent. For example, yesterday when Deana arrived for a visit, she gave a resigned shrug and look and said "Heart Attack". Of course she had a stroke, not a heart attack, but it said she knew she was in the hospital for something ... and she does have a heart condition (atrial fibrillation) which likely contributed to the stroke. So it shows some thought process going on there.
Still getting movement with the right leg and maybe the right arm too, though it is definitely behind the leg in progress.
I'm thinking that she is using facial expression more than normal as a means of communication. The expressions are pronounced and very cute, though often not appropriate to anything going on or being said around her. For example, she will show mock surprise or mock exasperation at comments. To me it's saying "I'm not sure what you said, but I heard you and I want you to know that I'm here".
In summary, not much change from yesterday; but not going backward either.
When Bettie is awake like this she looks just completely natural, as if she might pop up and say "Hey, why don't we all go bowling or something". But she doesn't. She can't.
I guess it's a little much to expect 100 percent improvement every day. At that rate she would be home in a week. (Yikes, we'd better wash up the dishes, just in case that happens. :) This slow improvement is trying. But hey, it's improvement!
Once again, I missed Dr. Heide's visit, but some of the boys were there. He says she's not out of the woods yet on several issues: blood thinner is one and feeding tubes is another. These will require some decisions soon.
Verbally, she is about the same. She will occasionally volunteer comments that are coherent. For example, yesterday when Deana arrived for a visit, she gave a resigned shrug and look and said "Heart Attack". Of course she had a stroke, not a heart attack, but it said she knew she was in the hospital for something ... and she does have a heart condition (atrial fibrillation) which likely contributed to the stroke. So it shows some thought process going on there.
Still getting movement with the right leg and maybe the right arm too, though it is definitely behind the leg in progress.
I'm thinking that she is using facial expression more than normal as a means of communication. The expressions are pronounced and very cute, though often not appropriate to anything going on or being said around her. For example, she will show mock surprise or mock exasperation at comments. To me it's saying "I'm not sure what you said, but I heard you and I want you to know that I'm here".
In summary, not much change from yesterday; but not going backward either.
In Good Hands
I plan to visit after church services today, but I couldn't wait until 1:30 so I came by from 8:30 to 9:00. She was sleeping soundly and I didn't want to disturb her. Just rubbed her neck a little. The doctor says she needs lots of sleep and quiet time to facilitate healing.
Don't we all.
(Daughter Kim holding Bettie's hand.)
Don't we all.
(Daughter Kim holding Bettie's hand.)
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Doctor's Amazed - The Husband's in Love
I'm a little early with this post this evening, as Bettie went to sleep on us and there seemed to be little reason to stay.
She had a very active day, and a good one! Though I was not able to make contact with Dr. Heide, he was there and, to quote Deana Walker who was visiting at the same time, "he was amazed".
The doctor said she has made 100 percent improvement over yesterday. Her brain swelling is in check and no medication was necessary for that condition. It should be going down over the next few days. Doctor says the clot is diminishing and, all in all, he is very encouraged when comparing today with his initial contact with her on Tuesday.
Besides Deana, her daughter Lisa, and Ruth & Rich Medved were there, plus my son Tim. She was awake for over an hour at a time and very animated. When I arrived at 5 o'clock, she was as wide awake as I have seen her this week. Tim said she moved her upper right arm several inches by herself this afternoon.
As we move forward the two big things we will be watching for are: movement in her right hand and arm, and meaningful voluntary speech. We are seeing a little of the latter. For example, this morning Steve was trying to remove a restraining cuff from her left wrist and she said, "Stop it!" -- which we were very happy about. We'd like to see her come up with more things like that on her own.
While the progress in the last 24 hours has been highly encouraging, we have quite a ways to go before the Bettie we knew is back.
However something interesting is happening to me as I watch her develop: She is different in a way that is very attractive to me. It's like I've been given permission to begin seeing a new woman. Not a clandestine affair kind of thing, but out in the open OK. Seems very strange and wonderful at the same time. I'm falling in love with a new woman. Whether the old Bettie comes fully back or I get this new blosoming one, I come out a winner. How blessed I am!
She had a very active day, and a good one! Though I was not able to make contact with Dr. Heide, he was there and, to quote Deana Walker who was visiting at the same time, "he was amazed".
The doctor said she has made 100 percent improvement over yesterday. Her brain swelling is in check and no medication was necessary for that condition. It should be going down over the next few days. Doctor says the clot is diminishing and, all in all, he is very encouraged when comparing today with his initial contact with her on Tuesday.
Besides Deana, her daughter Lisa, and Ruth & Rich Medved were there, plus my son Tim. She was awake for over an hour at a time and very animated. When I arrived at 5 o'clock, she was as wide awake as I have seen her this week. Tim said she moved her upper right arm several inches by herself this afternoon.
As we move forward the two big things we will be watching for are: movement in her right hand and arm, and meaningful voluntary speech. We are seeing a little of the latter. For example, this morning Steve was trying to remove a restraining cuff from her left wrist and she said, "Stop it!" -- which we were very happy about. We'd like to see her come up with more things like that on her own.
While the progress in the last 24 hours has been highly encouraging, we have quite a ways to go before the Bettie we knew is back.
However something interesting is happening to me as I watch her develop: She is different in a way that is very attractive to me. It's like I've been given permission to begin seeing a new woman. Not a clandestine affair kind of thing, but out in the open OK. Seems very strange and wonderful at the same time. I'm falling in love with a new woman. Whether the old Bettie comes fully back or I get this new blosoming one, I come out a winner. How blessed I am!
Why Me? Why Not!
I remember thinking, while on the way to the hospital the day this happened, how unfair for this to happen to Bettie. "She is so much better a person than I am ... it should be me, not her". But of course, it is happening to me, to us, to all of us.
I think I've concluded that making sense of tragedy is mostly futile. None of us deserve it, or maybe we all do, I don't know. I do know, or at least I'm beginning to understand, that the best we can do is see what can come of it; what can I learn; what can I pick up and pass on to others..?
The real tragedy would be to travel the entire road, whatever it turns out to be, and not scatter some bread crumbs along the way for the next person who might venture into this wilderness.
Feel free to follow my crumbs if you like. Otherwise, just check out the latest post.
I think I've concluded that making sense of tragedy is mostly futile. None of us deserve it, or maybe we all do, I don't know. I do know, or at least I'm beginning to understand, that the best we can do is see what can come of it; what can I learn; what can I pick up and pass on to others..?
The real tragedy would be to travel the entire road, whatever it turns out to be, and not scatter some bread crumbs along the way for the next person who might venture into this wilderness.
Feel free to follow my crumbs if you like. Otherwise, just check out the latest post.
I'm Watching My Phrazeology
It occured to me today that I have not spoken a harsh, critical, demeaning, dismissive or otherwise negative word to Bettie all this week. Obviously everything has been loving, supportive, encouraging, and just generally positive. Oh how I wish I could say it's just another typical week in this regard. Alas, it isn't so.
I wonder if, in 50 years of marriage, I have ever gone so long without saying something stupid. Probably not. What a shame. What a waste of my God-given gift of being able to communicate ... communicate by choice is what I mean.
Many animal species communicate: we have a pond on our property and there also ponds on the properties on either side of us so we have lots of geese going over, and they are always very verbal (if that's what you call goose talk). It is doubtful, I'm sure, that they ever criticize, condemn, or complain though. That is pretty much a human charactistic...and not a good one.
If I get a chance to start over with Bettie, you can bet I'm going to make some better choices on word selection. As Meredith Wilson put it in "Music Man", I'm going to "watch my phrazeology". I know I can do this because I'm doing it every day now; it's just a choice I make, and an easy one given the circumstances. But the circumstances don't determine my word choices really, it's me and only me. Coming to this conclusion when it is possibly too late to do much about it is kind of stupid. But if, by sharing this observation here, others can profit then something good may come of it.
I hope so.
I wonder if, in 50 years of marriage, I have ever gone so long without saying something stupid. Probably not. What a shame. What a waste of my God-given gift of being able to communicate ... communicate by choice is what I mean.
Many animal species communicate: we have a pond on our property and there also ponds on the properties on either side of us so we have lots of geese going over, and they are always very verbal (if that's what you call goose talk). It is doubtful, I'm sure, that they ever criticize, condemn, or complain though. That is pretty much a human charactistic...and not a good one.
If I get a chance to start over with Bettie, you can bet I'm going to make some better choices on word selection. As Meredith Wilson put it in "Music Man", I'm going to "watch my phrazeology". I know I can do this because I'm doing it every day now; it's just a choice I make, and an easy one given the circumstances. But the circumstances don't determine my word choices really, it's me and only me. Coming to this conclusion when it is possibly too late to do much about it is kind of stupid. But if, by sharing this observation here, others can profit then something good may come of it.
I hope so.
The Sound of Music
I'm grateful to report that there is no apparent degradation over the big advances we noted yesterday evening. We still have major movement possible in the right leg and she can still repeat back most any short phrase. For example we counted to five and she repeated back each number. I would have gone further, but it turned out to be time for a little nap. (Honey, where are your manners?)
The big deal today, that brought both Steve and I to tears, was seeing her reaction to a suggestion of his. Steve came up with the brilliant idea of letting her listen to old songs she would know, and which he had loaded on his iPod. The first was the theme from "Sound of Music". We were completely undone as we watched her mouth the words "The hills are alive with the sound of music...". Later she actually sang/hummed the song out loud ... something she never does. (Later we talked with a speech therapist and asked if this was a good thing to do, and she confirmed that it was.)
We were with her from 9 to 12 p.m., hoping to catch Dr. Heide on his rounds. Unfortunately, we didn't make contact with him this time, so we'll have to leave that report for later. She did have a head scan again today and his report will include that analysis.
We have now reached the 72-hour point. One doctor told us that at this point most of the critical changes have taken place, both positive and negative. From here on it is recovery and therapy to get back what has been lost. We'll see about that.
It would be wonderful to have someone with her when I need to attend to other things. I'm typically there from about 9 to 11 a.m. and 5 to 7 p.m.
A big Thank You to everyone who as been so supportive. This is not something anyone should attempt alone.
I'll post more when I hear from the doctor or after the evening visit.
The big deal today, that brought both Steve and I to tears, was seeing her reaction to a suggestion of his. Steve came up with the brilliant idea of letting her listen to old songs she would know, and which he had loaded on his iPod. The first was the theme from "Sound of Music". We were completely undone as we watched her mouth the words "The hills are alive with the sound of music...". Later she actually sang/hummed the song out loud ... something she never does. (Later we talked with a speech therapist and asked if this was a good thing to do, and she confirmed that it was.)
We were with her from 9 to 12 p.m., hoping to catch Dr. Heide on his rounds. Unfortunately, we didn't make contact with him this time, so we'll have to leave that report for later. She did have a head scan again today and his report will include that analysis.
We have now reached the 72-hour point. One doctor told us that at this point most of the critical changes have taken place, both positive and negative. From here on it is recovery and therapy to get back what has been lost. We'll see about that.
It would be wonderful to have someone with her when I need to attend to other things. I'm typically there from about 9 to 11 a.m. and 5 to 7 p.m.
A big Thank You to everyone who as been so supportive. This is not something anyone should attempt alone.
I'll post more when I hear from the doctor or after the evening visit.
Oh Dear, Dick Has Taken a Mistress
Sorry to admit it, but yes, it's true. Don't blame it all on me though ... it's Steve, he made me do it. My second son, Steve, flew up from his home in San Francisco the day this happened. Being a entrepreneur web developer, he can work from anywhere. He has contacts throughout the web-world. He had this acquaintance that he thought I should meet: blogspot.com and she, in turn, introduced me to BettiesChallenge. Well we kinda put it together as a team. I couldn't help myself. There was this instant attraction. As soon as our eyes met, I knew I was hooked.
We could talk, ya know? Don't get me wrong, I love talking to Bettie even now. Coaxing words and phrases out of her is like panning for gold. Each nugget bringing the promise of a rich future that I had only hoped for until it appeared in the pan. But you know, a guy needs to communicate ... really communicate. This "mistress" lets me do that, mostly unfettered, say anything I want, any time of the day or night ... she's great.
We're not going to do anything illicit here ... I wouldn't do that to Bettie. Never have. Never will. We'll just unburden ourselves...and feel better.
You do understand, don't you?
We could talk, ya know? Don't get me wrong, I love talking to Bettie even now. Coaxing words and phrases out of her is like panning for gold. Each nugget bringing the promise of a rich future that I had only hoped for until it appeared in the pan. But you know, a guy needs to communicate ... really communicate. This "mistress" lets me do that, mostly unfettered, say anything I want, any time of the day or night ... she's great.
We're not going to do anything illicit here ... I wouldn't do that to Bettie. Never have. Never will. We'll just unburden ourselves...and feel better.
You do understand, don't you?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The "Awakening" - Right Leg Comes to Life
I just left from a two and a half hour visit and WOW! My son Tim and I were there with her, not much happening, Bettie in and out of sleep. Then about 5:30 I think, I opened my mouth for something and she opened hers. Then she got a kind of impish look on her face and then made a silly face. She was copying me, like it was a game. We went back and forth a number of times with her more responsive each time, lots of smiles, etc. I started talking to her and she repeated back a number of things I said.
About that time Veronica arrived and shared in our joyous interchange. Then Bettie and I began a hand squeezing game: I squeezed her hand three times and she repeated three, then added one more, like she was raising me one. Then I did four and she did four plus one. We went like that up to eleven!
Then Tim says: "Lets see about the right side". He began with some tickles on the bottom or her right foot and Bettie moved it. Then she raised it, then lifted the whole right leg up and down several times completely on her own. This is her "paralyzed" right leg we're talking about here. By this time the three of us helping her have to stop to wipe away the tears of joy.
Needless to say, we are very encouraged by this sudden and dramatic improvement. Especially when just yesterday the doctor said she may get worse before she gets better because of brain swelling. Tim and Veronica left and I spent another hour with her alone. When lucid, she could repeat whole phrases, after I got her started: "I feel better", "I love you", etc. She repeats these many times over as if she is studying a foreign language.
At one point a Dr Duncan came in. He was there to determine if Bettie was a candidate for a semi-permanent feeding tube in her stomach. I described her recent progress to him and he observed her briefly. (She has a feeding tube in her nose, but that is not good to leave too long. She got that because she failed a swallowing test on Wednesday). Dr Duncan's conclusion was that this latest improvement indicates it's too soon to give up on eventual oral feeding. We'll try the swallow test again soon and see where we are.
(At this point in adding to the blog the phone rang. It was my first boss at Boeing and good friend: Colonel Joe Jackson, calling for an update. I simply read him what I had just written. What an honor to have friends of his stature calling to give love and encouragement. Follow the link to Joe and you'll see why it is such an honor.)
Back to Bettie: I hated to leave her for the evening this time, but I was anxious to add to this post for the news to spread. I'll be there by nine in the morning, hopefully to meet with Dr Heide and see what he makes of all this. Meanwhile, I'm smiling through tears.
About that time Veronica arrived and shared in our joyous interchange. Then Bettie and I began a hand squeezing game: I squeezed her hand three times and she repeated three, then added one more, like she was raising me one. Then I did four and she did four plus one. We went like that up to eleven!
Then Tim says: "Lets see about the right side". He began with some tickles on the bottom or her right foot and Bettie moved it. Then she raised it, then lifted the whole right leg up and down several times completely on her own. This is her "paralyzed" right leg we're talking about here. By this time the three of us helping her have to stop to wipe away the tears of joy.
Needless to say, we are very encouraged by this sudden and dramatic improvement. Especially when just yesterday the doctor said she may get worse before she gets better because of brain swelling. Tim and Veronica left and I spent another hour with her alone. When lucid, she could repeat whole phrases, after I got her started: "I feel better", "I love you", etc. She repeats these many times over as if she is studying a foreign language.
At one point a Dr Duncan came in. He was there to determine if Bettie was a candidate for a semi-permanent feeding tube in her stomach. I described her recent progress to him and he observed her briefly. (She has a feeding tube in her nose, but that is not good to leave too long. She got that because she failed a swallowing test on Wednesday). Dr Duncan's conclusion was that this latest improvement indicates it's too soon to give up on eventual oral feeding. We'll try the swallow test again soon and see where we are.
(At this point in adding to the blog the phone rang. It was my first boss at Boeing and good friend: Colonel Joe Jackson, calling for an update. I simply read him what I had just written. What an honor to have friends of his stature calling to give love and encouragement. Follow the link to Joe and you'll see why it is such an honor.)
Back to Bettie: I hated to leave her for the evening this time, but I was anxious to add to this post for the news to spread. I'll be there by nine in the morning, hopefully to meet with Dr Heide and see what he makes of all this. Meanwhile, I'm smiling through tears.
Brain Swelling (As Predicted)
Arms, legs, face: No perceptible change from yesterday.
Doctor Visit: Her brain has started to swell, as predicted. This will be monitored closely for next 24 hours to determine if drug intervention is required. They don't want to do that unless really necessary as the drug used has the potential for creating kidney problems. Doctor says speech she hears is as garbled to her as her speech is to us.
Room: Still in 513
Visitors: Dick from 9 to 11:30, then Tim.
Expect blog update this evening.
Therapy: Had a brief meeting with therapist discussing where and what level of therapy will be appropriate, but too soon to decide.
Doctor Visit: Her brain has started to swell, as predicted. This will be monitored closely for next 24 hours to determine if drug intervention is required. They don't want to do that unless really necessary as the drug used has the potential for creating kidney problems. Doctor says speech she hears is as garbled to her as her speech is to us.
Room: Still in 513
Visitors: Dick from 9 to 11:30, then Tim.
Expect blog update this evening.
Therapy: Had a brief meeting with therapist discussing where and what level of therapy will be appropriate, but too soon to decide.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The First 24 Hours - What Works/What Doesn't
Right arm: unresponsive. Unable to grip or move.
Right leg: Slight toe movement, shows some promise of possible recovery.
Left arm and leg: Appear perfectly normal in movement.
Face: No clearly noticeable difference between left and right side. Seems normal to family but doctor says there is some impairment on right side.
Speech: Was able to utter a few words. Most notable was the three word phrase "I'm too hot". On prompting, could not say her own name, but was able to say "Hi Rick", "Hi Steve", "Hi Tim." when we lean in close to her.
Doctor visit: Around 8 a.m. she had a brain scan. At 9:30 Dr. Heide saw her. He said she would be getting hungry and prescribed a feeding tube, as she cannot swallow. He says to expect her to frequently come up with the wrong word or no words as she attempts to communicate. She may fixate on a single word and repeat it many times as she did with the word "take" before saying "take care".
Visitors: Dick, Steve, Tim and family and other visitors throughout the day, too numerous to name, as word of her condition spreads. Visitors don't seem to tire her ... she just goes to sleep if she feels like it. (Her manners center must have been affected too! :)
Mannerisms: With her left side fully functional, she has a full range of normal mannerisms such as: folding the covers back when she is warm; Wiping her mouth; Brushing back her hair; examining the blood pressure cuff on her left arm; Occasional smiles to family members or a recognized friend or at a humorous comment.
Room Change: By this afternoon she had stabilized to the point where she could be moved from Intensive Care to a regular room. She's in 513 as of this post.
Right leg: Slight toe movement, shows some promise of possible recovery.
Left arm and leg: Appear perfectly normal in movement.
Face: No clearly noticeable difference between left and right side. Seems normal to family but doctor says there is some impairment on right side.
Speech: Was able to utter a few words. Most notable was the three word phrase "I'm too hot". On prompting, could not say her own name, but was able to say "Hi Rick", "Hi Steve", "Hi Tim." when we lean in close to her.
Doctor visit: Around 8 a.m. she had a brain scan. At 9:30 Dr. Heide saw her. He said she would be getting hungry and prescribed a feeding tube, as she cannot swallow. He says to expect her to frequently come up with the wrong word or no words as she attempts to communicate. She may fixate on a single word and repeat it many times as she did with the word "take" before saying "take care".
Visitors: Dick, Steve, Tim and family and other visitors throughout the day, too numerous to name, as word of her condition spreads. Visitors don't seem to tire her ... she just goes to sleep if she feels like it. (Her manners center must have been affected too! :)
Mannerisms: With her left side fully functional, she has a full range of normal mannerisms such as: folding the covers back when she is warm; Wiping her mouth; Brushing back her hair; examining the blood pressure cuff on her left arm; Occasional smiles to family members or a recognized friend or at a humorous comment.
Room Change: By this afternoon she had stabilized to the point where she could be moved from Intensive Care to a regular room. She's in 513 as of this post.
About This Blog
Since this blog is nearly 5 years old as I write in February of 2014, I thought it appropriate to add this comment. This was written day by day, starting in June of 2009, as this challenge unfolded. Rather than go back and edit it to past tense, I'm leaving it just as I wrote it. The hope and anticipation we all felt in the early months of this journey are evident, just as they happened then. I hope you are blessed in some small way by reading our story:
Hi, I'm Dick Aitkins. For 50 years and counting, I've been Bettie's husband.
Many of you reading this blog know me and are now supporting me in myriad ways for which I thank you.
I'll be posting basic information on Bettie here to keep you, her many friends and supporters, appraised of her condition and progress.
I'll try to post anything of significance and keep this as current as possible. As we progress through this challenge, I'll probably find this to be a useful part of my own therapy.
Posting this information here is intended to help her many concerned friends get the latest update, while saving those of us directly affected from having to field and respond to multiple inquires each day. However, please do not interpret that as meaning that the family and I do not want to hear from you...we do, really. Feel free to call or e-mail and we can get right to the really supportive stuff without having to repeat the daily update -- visit the "Profile" page for our contact info.
The articles in the blog (called Posts) are arranged with the most recent one on top. That way you'll see Bettie's current status first, without having to scroll down. If you want to follow along in chronological order, you need to scroll to the bottom and click on "Older Posts". (The first post in the blog is titled "The Day it Happened".) Then work your way back up to the top. Or, just click the link Download & Read all Blog posts in chronological order (pdf) in the upper right of this page.
Hi, I'm Dick Aitkins. For 50 years and counting, I've been Bettie's husband.Many of you reading this blog know me and are now supporting me in myriad ways for which I thank you.
I'll be posting basic information on Bettie here to keep you, her many friends and supporters, appraised of her condition and progress.
I'll try to post anything of significance and keep this as current as possible. As we progress through this challenge, I'll probably find this to be a useful part of my own therapy.
Posting this information here is intended to help her many concerned friends get the latest update, while saving those of us directly affected from having to field and respond to multiple inquires each day. However, please do not interpret that as meaning that the family and I do not want to hear from you...we do, really. Feel free to call or e-mail and we can get right to the really supportive stuff without having to repeat the daily update -- visit the "Profile" page for our contact info.
The articles in the blog (called Posts) are arranged with the most recent one on top. That way you'll see Bettie's current status first, without having to scroll down. If you want to follow along in chronological order, you need to scroll to the bottom and click on "Older Posts". (The first post in the blog is titled "The Day it Happened".) Then work your way back up to the top. Or, just click the link Download & Read all Blog posts in chronological order (pdf) in the upper right of this page.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The Day it Happened
As best we can determine, Bettie's challenge began on Tuesday, June 23, a few minutes after 9 a.m.
(A little personal background here may help: I am employed at iShip, Inc. a subsidiary of UPS, the shipping company. I work in their offices every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday; I work from home on Fridays, using the company intranet. Being something of an insomniac, I awaken one or more times throughout the night. When it's a work night, I just get up and go into the office. So I'm often there in the wee hours of the morning, but seldom past noon. It's kind of crazy, but it works for me, and the wonderful people I work with are very accommodating. My usual habit on work days has been to give Bettie a brief check-in call between 8 and 9 a.m.)
I first called Bettie at about 8:40 that morning. I got no answer, but that occasionally happens if she is in the bathroom or something. I called again just a few minutes after nine. She answered, in a normal sounding voice, with "You're late". Not saying "Hello" was a little unusual, but maybe everything was normal to that point.
After those first two words, our world changed.
What I heard sounded like she was crying at first. (That has happened before ... she called me at work years ago to give me the news that my grandmother had died. When I answered that call she couldn't speak for a minute or so, so I thought it was something like that.) I gave her a few moments to compose herself, but it didn't happen. It sounded like she was muttering or something.
We knew she was at risk for stroke, due to a heart condition called atrial fibrillation that she had been dealing with for about six months, but realizing that I was actually hearing one happen took a minute or so to sink in. I finally said something like: "Honey, I'm going to call 911 ... Do you want me to call 911?"
I made out "911" in her garbled response, but that was all. My head was spinning, this was the real thing!
I hung up and punched in 911. Since I was at iShip's Factoria office, I got the Bellevue police response center but they quickly connected me to Auburn and I gave them the required details. Paramedics were there in minutes and found Bettie in bed and mostly unresponsive.
I locked up my computer, told a co-worker: "I'm leaving; I think my wife may have had a stroke", and took off for home. I'm not careful to always have my cell phone with me and have it on, but that day I did.
Ten minutes into the trip, my son Tim called me and put one of the emergency team guys on the phone. (Tim, his wife Veronica, and their two children live with us. Being self employed, he might leave for work anytime between 7 a.m. and 10. This day, he happened to still be home.) The emergency team guy told me they were taking her to Auburn Regional Medical Center, so that was where I headed.
On arrival I provided the registration desk some quick information, then I found Bettie in ER room #1. I suppose the initial reaction one has in a situation like that is akin to what you might feel when the sheet is pulled back in the morgue and you realize that, yes it's her.
The doctor was busy determining the extent of her condition, asking her all kinds of questions, poking, prodding, touching, all with speed and precision. He did his best to fill me in on what he was finding as he proceeded.
Though her eyes were about half open, there did not appear to be much going on in there. It was then that he first used the word "Stroke". Though not a surprise, given her history of atrial fibrillation, hearing that word came down heavy, like hearing a jury foreman saying, "Your honor, we find the defendant guilty of all charges."
They soon whisked her off for a CAT scan of her head to actually see what was going on.
Upon return, the doctor detailed it for me: "She has a very large clot on the left side of her brain, in the area where speech is centered. It is very serious and there are some very high risk issues you are going to have to decide right now." They wheeled in a cart with a flat-screen TV monitor and a camera on it. I was quickly introduced via video to Dr Aaron Heide, a stroke specialist who handles cases like Bettie's for a number of area hospitals. He explained that we had two high risk scenarios here: doing nothing, and doing something.
The something he proposed was to transport her to Highline Medical Center, in Burien, where another specialist, Dr. Wiess, could attempt to break up and/or remove the clot via a catheter inserted into her groin and directed all the way up to her brain using some very new, very high-tech imaging. While it offered the prospect of giving her a greater chance for some recovery than doing nothing, it also could create bleeding and ultimately be terminal. The doing nothing at all choice also had the risk of death, but with less chance for recovery.
By this time my son Tim had arrived at the Auburn emergency room, so at least I wasn't faced with this decision alone. Together we concluded that we would rather try the procedure than not ... so off we went to Highline.
Just before the procedure, which they said could take from one half hour to four hours, I met Dr Wiess. He's an intense, fast-talking professional who gives the impression that, even though he's talking about high-risk stuff, everything will be OK. I asked him if I could see Bettie before he began. He said no, that hospital procedure forbade that. He then, without a word, took me by the hand and led me to her side in the procedure room. He muttered something like "this didn't happen" and left me there with her for a moment.
I can't describe that moment without seriously soiling my keyboard with tears and drool, but it was intense.
In the waiting area I was joined by Tim and his wife Veronica, my daughter Kim and her husband Mike, Art Palecek, our associate pastor, and his wife, Maureen. Later, our previous associate pastor Steve Ambros joined us for an hour or so. We prayed and talked and ate lunch and waited and waited. "Wait" is not the right word for this kind of wait. "Wait" is something you do in check-out lines and at traffic lights. When the life of your beloved hangs in the balance it is something else. I'll think about that another time.
After about three hours, Dr. Weiss came in. He said he had good news and bad news. First the bad: because of the unusual amount of twists and turns in Bettie's veins, he was not able to get the catheter close enough to grab the clot nor inject it with a dissolving agent. It was close he said, very close. However the good news was that there appears to be some blood flowing around the clot so the damage is not as severe as it could easily have been. That bodes well for future recovery.
Bettie spent the rest of that day and night in intensive care. The gaggle of family and friends eventually thinned until I was left alone with her. Next to our wedding night, perhaps the most memorable of our nights together.
I talked to her, not knowing if she could understand. At one point she said "I'm too hot." I took that as a good sign, putting three words together. Another time she began saying the word "take". She must have said it twenty times or more. Finally she got out "care". She wanted me to "take care" of her. God, I love this woman.
(A little personal background here may help: I am employed at iShip, Inc. a subsidiary of UPS, the shipping company. I work in their offices every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday; I work from home on Fridays, using the company intranet. Being something of an insomniac, I awaken one or more times throughout the night. When it's a work night, I just get up and go into the office. So I'm often there in the wee hours of the morning, but seldom past noon. It's kind of crazy, but it works for me, and the wonderful people I work with are very accommodating. My usual habit on work days has been to give Bettie a brief check-in call between 8 and 9 a.m.)
I first called Bettie at about 8:40 that morning. I got no answer, but that occasionally happens if she is in the bathroom or something. I called again just a few minutes after nine. She answered, in a normal sounding voice, with "You're late". Not saying "Hello" was a little unusual, but maybe everything was normal to that point.
After those first two words, our world changed.
What I heard sounded like she was crying at first. (That has happened before ... she called me at work years ago to give me the news that my grandmother had died. When I answered that call she couldn't speak for a minute or so, so I thought it was something like that.) I gave her a few moments to compose herself, but it didn't happen. It sounded like she was muttering or something.
We knew she was at risk for stroke, due to a heart condition called atrial fibrillation that she had been dealing with for about six months, but realizing that I was actually hearing one happen took a minute or so to sink in. I finally said something like: "Honey, I'm going to call 911 ... Do you want me to call 911?"
I made out "911" in her garbled response, but that was all. My head was spinning, this was the real thing!
I hung up and punched in 911. Since I was at iShip's Factoria office, I got the Bellevue police response center but they quickly connected me to Auburn and I gave them the required details. Paramedics were there in minutes and found Bettie in bed and mostly unresponsive.
I locked up my computer, told a co-worker: "I'm leaving; I think my wife may have had a stroke", and took off for home. I'm not careful to always have my cell phone with me and have it on, but that day I did.
Ten minutes into the trip, my son Tim called me and put one of the emergency team guys on the phone. (Tim, his wife Veronica, and their two children live with us. Being self employed, he might leave for work anytime between 7 a.m. and 10. This day, he happened to still be home.) The emergency team guy told me they were taking her to Auburn Regional Medical Center, so that was where I headed.
On arrival I provided the registration desk some quick information, then I found Bettie in ER room #1. I suppose the initial reaction one has in a situation like that is akin to what you might feel when the sheet is pulled back in the morgue and you realize that, yes it's her.
The doctor was busy determining the extent of her condition, asking her all kinds of questions, poking, prodding, touching, all with speed and precision. He did his best to fill me in on what he was finding as he proceeded.
Though her eyes were about half open, there did not appear to be much going on in there. It was then that he first used the word "Stroke". Though not a surprise, given her history of atrial fibrillation, hearing that word came down heavy, like hearing a jury foreman saying, "Your honor, we find the defendant guilty of all charges."
They soon whisked her off for a CAT scan of her head to actually see what was going on.
Upon return, the doctor detailed it for me: "She has a very large clot on the left side of her brain, in the area where speech is centered. It is very serious and there are some very high risk issues you are going to have to decide right now." They wheeled in a cart with a flat-screen TV monitor and a camera on it. I was quickly introduced via video to Dr Aaron Heide, a stroke specialist who handles cases like Bettie's for a number of area hospitals. He explained that we had two high risk scenarios here: doing nothing, and doing something.
The something he proposed was to transport her to Highline Medical Center, in Burien, where another specialist, Dr. Wiess, could attempt to break up and/or remove the clot via a catheter inserted into her groin and directed all the way up to her brain using some very new, very high-tech imaging. While it offered the prospect of giving her a greater chance for some recovery than doing nothing, it also could create bleeding and ultimately be terminal. The doing nothing at all choice also had the risk of death, but with less chance for recovery.
By this time my son Tim had arrived at the Auburn emergency room, so at least I wasn't faced with this decision alone. Together we concluded that we would rather try the procedure than not ... so off we went to Highline.
Just before the procedure, which they said could take from one half hour to four hours, I met Dr Wiess. He's an intense, fast-talking professional who gives the impression that, even though he's talking about high-risk stuff, everything will be OK. I asked him if I could see Bettie before he began. He said no, that hospital procedure forbade that. He then, without a word, took me by the hand and led me to her side in the procedure room. He muttered something like "this didn't happen" and left me there with her for a moment.
I can't describe that moment without seriously soiling my keyboard with tears and drool, but it was intense.
In the waiting area I was joined by Tim and his wife Veronica, my daughter Kim and her husband Mike, Art Palecek, our associate pastor, and his wife, Maureen. Later, our previous associate pastor Steve Ambros joined us for an hour or so. We prayed and talked and ate lunch and waited and waited. "Wait" is not the right word for this kind of wait. "Wait" is something you do in check-out lines and at traffic lights. When the life of your beloved hangs in the balance it is something else. I'll think about that another time.
After about three hours, Dr. Weiss came in. He said he had good news and bad news. First the bad: because of the unusual amount of twists and turns in Bettie's veins, he was not able to get the catheter close enough to grab the clot nor inject it with a dissolving agent. It was close he said, very close. However the good news was that there appears to be some blood flowing around the clot so the damage is not as severe as it could easily have been. That bodes well for future recovery.
Bettie spent the rest of that day and night in intensive care. The gaggle of family and friends eventually thinned until I was left alone with her. Next to our wedding night, perhaps the most memorable of our nights together.
I talked to her, not knowing if she could understand. At one point she said "I'm too hot." I took that as a good sign, putting three words together. Another time she began saying the word "take". She must have said it twenty times or more. Finally she got out "care". She wanted me to "take care" of her. God, I love this woman.
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