Cats n dogs

What a week.

Wednesday was the big day of oncology appointments for my mom. It's been a year since the stroke now so they're entertaining the idea that something more definitive can be done for the tumor. We saw surgical oncology, radiation oncology, and medical oncology. The team is definitely moving towards surgery and chemo/radiation. I think that's a good sign. There was a day when they wouldn't have entertained the idea at all because she has some questionable evidence of metastatic disease (although her medical oncologist doesn't think it's anything, actually), and that day wasn't more than a couple of years ago. But the fact that they're even ready to consider surgery makes me feel like there's a good chance at extending my mother's life.

The day itself was productive, of course, but crazy stressful. We were both really anxious about what they were going to say, not to mention about the whole process itself. As it turns out, we get to be anxious a little longer. They found something questionable on the mammo of the other breast, so they need to do further testing before they can actually make a plan. So we follow up again the first week of April to do the scheduling and more definitive talking. My mom has friends coming to visit at the end of April, so I suspect when we all put our heads together they're going to schedule the surgery in May. Which is helpful for me, too, because I'll me on Consults for May and June, and the scheduling is more flexible.

It does leave my planned trip to Chicago at the end of this month in question, however, because of some of the testing they've got scheduled. My mom is pushing me to go, of course, but I'm still not convinced.

In other convalescence news...Olga is getting stronger by the day. She's still on the ventilator but has done very well off of heart-lung bypass. Unfortunately, though, as a complication of the bypass, her foot didn't get perfused well enough (they focus on perfusing the important things - brain, heart, kidneys - and sometimes the peripheral stuff doesn't get enough blood flow. And let's face it Olga's feet are a looooong way from her brain) and had to be amputated on Friday. I can't even imagine how hard that's going to be for her. Olga's kind of a fashionista, you know? Cute shoes. Cute skirts. Cute toes. Well, I mean, the shoes are still in...and there are a lot of cute pants...and we can still go for manicures.

But in both cases...I can't imagine losing a piece of myself. I mean, like, a real, visible piece of myself (I say this as someone who has already lost most of her accessory organs). Whether a mastectomy or a foot amputation, there's a very obvious void created, you know? But at the same time, I'm amazingly glad both Olga and my mother have both thusfar survived something that could have killed them. It's a steep price, but compared to the alternative...

Life gets so complicated sometimes.

In related news, we have a new little houseguest.

Her name is Gulan (it means "Cutie" in Swedish), and she is Olga's cat. She's been staying with some friends, but their dogs aren't so cat friendly and they can't let her out because they live in coyote country (real, wild coyotes, not Maggie-like coyotes-once-removed). So she was living in their utility room in their basement. It seemed kind of inhumane, so they looked for alternatives, and I figured it was the least I could do. So we brought her here today. She keeps hissing at Maggie, but Mags is being very respectful. I'm sure they'll be just fine.

I did, however, forget about two things when I offered to do this... my hatred of litterboxes (haaaaaaate) and my cat allergy.

I addressed the one by irrationally spending an obscene amount of money I don't have on a self-cleaning litterbox (Hate. Hate. Hate.). I totally can't justify this at all, unless of course the cat moves in permanently, which is not the plan. I'm sure Olga will want her cat back in a couple of months, and I can go back to my cat-dander-free existence. And I can probably sell the litterbox on Craigslist. Until then, self-cleaning litter and a good dose of antihistamines should get us through.

She's a sweet old thing. Who's currently hiding somewhere in my house where I can't find her.

I do hope she remembers where that fancy litterbox is.........

Drawn to a close

Ahhh, another week down.

Mom's home. She's feeling better and her lip is back to its normal size.

Maggie missed her.

 

It was a full and yet very unproductive day. I had a good time at coffee this morning. I picked up my mom, her prescriptions, and some lunch and then headed back to the ranch. I had a good workout. I ran a couple of errands. I took Maggie back to my folks later in the evening so she could say hello and I could do my mom's pill boxes. We watched some SVU. I didn't get my laundry or my dishes done. I didn't get half the work done this weekend that I wanted to. I never made it to Costco.

You know? It's just fine.

Saturday ahoy

Yeah, I don't know what that title means.

It's been an interesting couple of days. My mom developed a giant, rapidly spreading abscess in her lip, and so we spent last night in the ER, where ENT drained it and they admitted her for IV antibiotics. I spent a lot of today driving back and forth from the hospital to where we live. I went to the hospital to get my blood drawn (time for a thyroid test), then went home and got my dad, dropped him off to keep my mom company, went to coffee, went and got shoes and picked up lunch, went back to my house to eat, went back to pick up my dad, went back to the hospital to hang out with my mom....well, you get the picture.

I walked into the New Balance store and said, "I have the worst plantar faciitis in the history of feet. Help. Please." I left with new tennis shoes and a pair of those tone-your-butt flip-flops. Not because I think they'll actually tone my butt (flip-flops vs. my fat ass? Please.), but because the guy suggested them and they were SO comfortable. And marginally cute. But SO comfortable....

My mom and I had a nice visit, though. We got an off unit pass and took a walk to the Starbucks in the hospital. We people-watched. We ate cookies. I worked on knitting a baby sock.

When I left the hospital I caught up with a bunch of my coworkers at a local watering hole to celebrate May's upcoming wedding. We had a lovely time. We ate and talked and laughed a whole lot. It was an intimate little group of us by design, and it was so great to chat and catch up and tell stories. And May and Doug are adorable together. It was exactly what I needed after a really long day...

Ai ai ai...

So my dad's back in the hospital. Doing okay, in pretty good spirits, but his blood pressure's a little low.

Mine, however...

Mom, on the other hand, is doing pretty well. Did great in PT today, getting up better, etc. There was a big thunderstorm today while I was at work and Dad was at the hospital. My mom says, "Maggie was jumping all around and really upset about it."

"Aww, poor thing," I said. Because, you know, my dog is terrified of thunderstorms. "Sounds like that was upsetting to you, too. But," I reminded her, "you can always say 'go to your bed' and she'll go get in her crate."

"Oh," my mom says, "She was in her crate. But I knew she was scared, so I told her to come out and sit by me. And she did, for a while, and then started jumping around. I felt bad for her."

This I love.

This post is brought to you....

...by the letter "T" and the letter "D". For, technical difficulties.

I'm terribly sorry to have worried anyone out there! My wi-fi hasn't been working at Shady Pines, and I've been too exhausted to remember I can update the blog by phone. Oy.

I'm thinking my Blog 365 qualification for this year is over...which is actually fine. I'm still planning to post daily, but maybe I won't stress about it if I miss a day here and there. ::sigh::

Things are actually going pretty well here. Mom and Dad are both home at the Home. I have an air mattress so I'm no longer sleeping on the floor, and honestly, I'm thinking I'm not going to have to stay there a whole lot longer. My mom is needing a lot less assistance these days, so once she can get out of bed by herself at night, I should just be able to come before and after work. Dad is doing well, too. They're both getting PT daily. It's nice.

Here's the best thing that's been going on - my mom has always been terrified of dogs. She's been pretty tolerant of Maggie, but, like, when we lived at home between residencies, Maggie and I lived in the unfinished basement because she wasn't allowed in the house. When I got frustrated by the basement and started sleeping upstairs, she had to stay in her crate except when we went outside. Mom was really not a fan.

Maggie, however, has officially won my mother over. She's been staying out of her crate during the day, even when it's just her and my mom. My mom's still a little too skittish to touch her, but has been feeding her whatever's left of whatever meals she eats in the apartment. Maggie, of course, adores my mom, but being the really good girl that she is, is very respectful of Mom's personal space. It's completely adorable.

So the other day, my friend Laurie offered to keep Maggie while I was staying at Shady Pines. And I said to my mom, "Wow, isn't this nice? My friend Laurie from work says Maggie can stay with her while I'm here, if we want."

My mom looks over at the dog, thinks for a second, and says, "No, I think Maggie wants to stay here."

A definite win, I think, for me, my mom, and my dog. We gals have to stick together, after all, right?

Happy Mother's Day

So it's Mother's Day.

This is a day my own mother has traditionally hated. I'm not sure I've ever figured out quite why, exactly, she dislikes it so much - I get explanations ranging from "it's a stupid Hallmark holiday" to it making her miss her own mother too much. But, since this year I'm grateful that my mother is even alive after this whole fiasco, so we celebrated it by spending most of the day together.

It's been a rough weekend. My dad's hopefully getting out of the hospital tomorrow. But the weekend (or, you know, past two months) has been kind of crazy, so I took a couple of hours this morning and went to Starbucks. I got caught up on my discharge summaries (let's not talk about my clinic notes) just in time to go back on service tomorrow, and met Matt for coffee and good conversation. I felt a little better after that. My mom and I went to the Mothers' Day brunch here at Shady Pines, which was absolutely delicious. My mom doesn't talk much during meals these days, so it was a lot of chewing in silence, but it was still nice to be in the thick of things. We then got in the car (which she's getting better at) and drove around looking at houses in the neighborhood, and found a lot lot lot of great options for me to talk about with the realtor. We came home, I fell asleep for a minute and then went back out to Target, came home, made dinner, installed the transfer bench in the shower, and then my mom and I watched Betty White on last night's SNL (my mom's commentary? "That was weird." I, however, loved it). And then we got my mom showered, which was a 45 minute ordeal. And sent me off on a whole new spiral succumbing to the gravity of this whole situation.

Matt and I talked a little this morning about the cultural differences between his WASPy self and my Greekness. He was like, "I'd probably be more hands-off about the whole thing, but my parents are also younger and I have a high-functioning sister." Right, I said, and you're a son. I'm an only child, and a daughter, and in my culture, that means something entirely different. And sometimes that difference is wonderful, meaningful, amazing. Sometimes that something is a jagged little pill.

There have been other aspects of this weekend weighing heavily on me, but that's another post for another day. Meanwhile, I have a 7am therapy patient tomorrow. I'd better get to sleep...

Hiatus

Sorry I've been silent the past two days, y'all. We're in NC, finally; I haven't had internet for the past two days, because I'm staying at the retirement resort with my mom.

Seriously. This place is like a cruise ship that doesn't move. It's amazing.

Today was the Day of a Billion Appointments. Well, three, but it still turned into a 10 hour day. My mom saw Neurology, Rehab Medicine, and then finally Oncology. All three went well. Her (internationally known) oncologist walks in the room, sticks out his hand and says, "Hi, I'm Hy. I'm sort of a breast cancer specialist, you know?" He seems optimistic, and not in an unreasonable way. My mom and I both felt a LOT better after talking with him.

I think I'm going back to work Thursday, finally. Hooray!

Meanwhile, I'm going to bed. I'm not sure I've ever been this tired in my entire life....

Steady on

So it's 4am here in Ohio. We managed to actually get out of Chicago, me and Claudia and my mom, and get underway. We have relatives here, so this seemed like a good stopping point and chance to catch up with them. Apparently I haven't seen these people in over five years. Which is insane, because I really like these relatives.

Getting my mom out of the hospital proved to be a longer and more obnoxious venture than planned; "oh, sure, she can be out by 11 at the latest" turned into nearly 1pm. It was a long drive, but nice to see the relatives. 8 hours to go tomorrow. I'm hoping I can muster a little less insomnia tomorrow....

SSDD

Today was frequently sucky.

My mom is fine. My dad is okay. There are other forces in my life acting up.

I choose to think that this is the test before something wonderful. Especially if I make it so.

Mom's doing great, actually. I'm almost afraid to jinx it. PT's hard on her, but she's making huge progress.

But the day ended well - I had coffee and a very restorative dinner with my cousin, and then a trip to Michael's where I bought cheap gigantic knitting needles for the gift basket I'm constructing for the staff (good for OT use) and a plastic canvas needlepoint for my mom. Then I came home and had a mug of hot cocoa and a chat with my dad, which was nice.

Three more days until we point the wagons East. Crazy.

Chicago grey

Oh....my word...this Chicago weather is killing me.

It was cold, and rainy, and sleepy out today in Chicago. My mom didn't have OT or PT, but she did have a lot of visitors, including a friend she hasn't seen in person in like 20 years. That was quite awesome, actually.

I can't figure out why I'm so damn exhausted tonight...

We are never broken

Barb (of So The Thing Is... fame) has a new blog, called Listening for a Change, about finding joy in the everyday. I love and highly support this idea.

There's a Jungian concept called synchronicity, wherein two events that seem causally unrelated occur together in some sort of meaningful way, which (this is where it differs from coincidence) belies a larger system at work. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, for a number of reasons, some of them a bit spooky.

This comes up again with Barb's most recent post, Hands. Watching my mom after the stroke, doing three hours of PT and OT every day, struggling to find ways to do the smallest tasks with her right hand that would normally be so mindless... It's remarkable to watch her and her fellow rehab patients. We have ways to adapt the world to them, to a degree (like how yesterday I couldn't find a spoon that didn't have a giant grip adjuster on it). We have ways to help them adapt to the world, to an extent (walkers and wheelchairs and sock pullers and grabbers). But nothing is the same. Even her left arm is a little weaker, which is common after a contralateral brain injury. But it makes you slow down and think about a lot that we take for granted. Like being able to type this blog post - my mom has been an executive secretary for close to 45 years. Her first sign that something was amiss was when she lost her ability to type. Subsequently, she lost her ability to read, to walk, to understand language as well as she had, to do such simple things as dress herself. It's been a humbling experience, certainly for her, but also for those of us around her who are observant and sensitive.

But in the tragedy of all this change, despite its sudden and concerted efforts at derailing her life and irrevocably altering mine, there is a great deal of amazing. It's forced both of us to take a step back, to slow down, to think about the breakdown of things we would normally not even notice. Every moment becomes a triumph. Little successes become magnified. But the thing is, they should've been that important to begin with; they've always been magnificent.

I'm reminded, too, even though I spend every single day wading through the minefields of the psyche, what a remarkable piece of equipment the brain is. The progress my mom has made just within the week is extraordinary. We used to think - easily in my lifetime - that you were born with the same number of neurons you died with, and the brain couldn't repair itself. Which is nonsense. While it seems to be accurate that mature neurons don't divide (at least, the last I heard), we're starting to realize they're far more plastic and resilient that we've ever imagined. When one part of the brain takes a hit, other parts rev up and compensate to minimize the deficits. The chatter works a little like a bad phone line at first, but as the brain makes more and more new neuronal connections, the reception clears up. Knowing the nervous system as I do, having even the vaguest idea what goes on in there - seeing my mother button her shirt becomes like seeing the hand of God in her.

I spent a good deal of time today thinking about the muscles we use to let go of something (there's a great deal of poetry about that, I think). In OT today my mom was trying to put pegs in a board with her right hand. And as her muscles fatigued, she could still get her hand clamped around the peg and push the peg into the board, but she had trouble releasing the peg. And I thought, huh. People totally take that for granted. We all assume letting go is a passive process - you just stop holding on and it's over. But that's not at all true - you have multiple muscles in your arm and hand dedicated just to the extension of your fingers. There are hundreds of tiny movements involved in just picking up a pencil and setting it down again.

Imagine how much energy is involved in letting go of the big things in life. But you can't carry around that peg forever.