http://www.Homesbythecase.blogspot.com
If you're "just tuning in" this post may leave you wondering what the heck I am rambling about, I hope you take the time to go back and review my earlier posts so you can catch up with our story. I very much appreciate your thoughts and comments.
For anyone who has been along for the whole wild ride - Thank you!
Stick to the routine
I woke feeling rushed at 6:00 AM on May 30th,
2013. Mom’s appointment for her culture wasn't until 9:15, but it was a long way across town in rush hour traffic and let’s
face it, there was no “rush” about it!
Since mom’s back surgery, some things had gotten much easier and quicker
to get around in the mornings; some things were more cumbersome and took longer. The pain in her spine was all but gone and she was
almost completely off of the massive doses of morphine she had been on just a
few weeks prior. Still, mom had a
morning ritual that would upset her whole day if it wasn't at least somewhat
followed. I do my best to stick to the routine.
By 6:15 AM I was in the hotel lobby gathering several items
that mom “might” want to munch on and a morning news paper; her coffee had
already been made and was sitting in front of her at the table. Although the spine surgeon had told mom she
could start to wean herself from wearing the back brace that she so despised,
she had found that her back became tired very quickly without it – those
muscles simply hadn't been used for quite some time – so, even though it was
very cumbersome, we took the time to snug her into both the back and the leg
braces. At 7:45 AM we were in the car
and on our way for the culture that would determine how we would spend our next
several months.
The results of the culture and the amount of tissue damage
would determine if the knee could be resected and replaced during the same
surgery or if it would require two separate surgeries; one to resect and
another 6-8 weeks after to replace. Of course
we were hopeful it could be done in a single surgery, but I don’t think either
of us were very optimistic. With the
cultures drawn and surgery scheduled for July 12, 2013 with only a 2% chance
for a single surgery, we were back in the car heading to the hotel by 9:30 AM.
By 10:30 AM I had gotten mom a snack, helped her to the
bathroom, and got her laid down. With
the promise of bringing something back for lunch in a couple hours I left mom
at the hotel. I had made sure her cell
phone, water and any medicine she might need while I was gone were accessible;
I still worried about mom walking on that knee even just to the bathroom, so I
placed the bedside commode at the foot of the bed. I had to believe mom would be OK alone for a
couple hours; she had to be. I tried not
to speed as I looked at the clock and calculated the time it would take to get
to the hospital; I prayed I would make it on time.
I guess I should have been more specific with that prayer - I
should have prayed that I would make it on time to see my daughter before they took her to surgery; I didn't. I did, however, make it on time to greet my
new granddaughter when they brought her in to the nursery. As I adored this new baby girl, I marveled at
how many miracles God had wrapped in this child; how many prayers had been
answered with her birth.
My daughter was doing fine; the baby was healthy; I had been
able to be there; mom had lived to meet the newest of her great grandchildren (achieving
the second of her goals) – these had all been prayers that I had spoken in the
past few months.
Within hours after my granddaughter was born I had taken lunch
to mom and we returned to the hospital for a proper introduction. Mom beamed and with tears in her eyes, she
said “I made it this far”. Both mom and
my daughter wore out pretty quickly and I took mom back to the hotel to allow
them both some time to rest. We had
decided to stay a couple extra days to enjoy the baby and make sure everybody
was doing well before heading back home.
On the way back to the hotel I was chatting about the things
we needed to do in the next six weeks before moms’ surgery; I could tell
something was on moms’ mind and it was making me jittery that she wasn't saying
much. Mom remained fairly quiet all
evening and nothing I seemed to say or do inspired her to open up. I knew from past experience there was either
something weighing heavy on her mind or she was not feeling well; I really
hoped it was the former.
Deciding there was little I could do to change moms’ mood or demeanor,
I spent the next two days with my daughter as much as I possibly could. Mom seemed to fair OK at the hotel and I
checked in often; she was still quiet, but did not seem to be ill. I knew she would share whatever was on her
mind when she was ready, not before.
On Sunday evening June 2, 2013 mom was ready to share. Shorty after she had taken her evening
medications, mom turned to me and asked, “When did we do the last morphine
reduction”? BINGO! That’s why mom had been so quiet; she had
missed her 3rd goal – to be off of the morphine by the first of
June.
I explained to her that I had decided to not do the final
reduction (which entailed the elimination) of the morphine while we were
traveling as there could be “unpleasant” side effects, but that if she thought
she was ready then the dose she just took could constitute her last dose; I
really hoped I didn't regret that decision.
It seemed amazing that just three months ago she was taking 500-700mg a
day of morphine. On June 2nd she officially took her last 15mg of the mind numbing drug.
On June 3rd mom seemed fine as I headed out to see
my daughter, son-in-law and the babies.
She still seemed OK, but not as perky when I returned and started
packing for our trip back home. On June
4th it was obvious mom wasn't feeling great, but she wasn't complaining as we headed across town and into the mountains towards home. Luckily we at least made it over the passes (but
still 2 ½ hours from home) before things got ugly. Remember those “unpleasant” withdrawal
symptoms I mentioned earlier? I’ll never
forget them!
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