The focus of the next 3 weeks of rehabilitation, is simply to get Dad to the point where he can reliable move around in a wheelchair. Let that sink in for a minute. 4 weeks of rehabilitation to get into a wheelchair. Like most people I know, we hold out hope that Dad will beat the odds.
He ate breakfast and lunch but declined to eat dinner today. He got dinner anyway, via the PEG. I'm sure he was tired, but he's also at that point in recovery where he's full realizing what is ahead. His speech is coming along at a similar pace. He's getting better, but growing less patient with his inability to communicate effectively. It's clear that there are frustration and/or depression issues to be worked through. Certainly understandable.
I don't know if it was the right thing to do, but I was honest with Dad about that first day. After the girls left the room, I talked to him about "the decision." That is, when the surgeon presented us with the option of surgery, knowing that he'd have a tough road ahead, but it would be his best option at survival. It was a tough story to tell him, and we both struggled to get through it.
We finished on a positive note, lots of kisses from grandaughters, a handshake and a promise to return this weekend. Thanks to all of you that continue to reach out through blog comments, phone calls and other well wishes. The messages are being conveyed to Dad, and it always makes him smile.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Swallow
As defined by Merriam-Webster:
transitive verb
1 to take through the mouth and esophagus into the stomach
2 to envelop or take in as if by swallowing: absorb - "swallow the financial loss" "watch night swallow the valley"
3 to accept without question, protest, or resentment "swallow an insult" "a hard story to swallow"
4 take back retract "had to swallow my words"
5 to keep from expressing or showing: repress - swallowed my anger
6 to utter (as words) indistinctly
intransitive verb
1 to receive something into the body through the mouth and esophagus
2 to perform the action characteristic of swallowing something especially under emotional stress
Dad has done a lot of swallowing lately. I don't know that any of it has been easy. But the swallowing I'm excited about is related to food. He actually had his first "meal" today. I don't remember exactly what the staff told me, except that it was all sliced, diced, minced or otherwise mashed into the consistency of baby food. I know that the biggest worry related to him swallowing has been aspiration and/or choking. Puree the food so that choking is less likely. And thicken liquids to reduce the aspiration risk. I didn't try it personally, but I'm told he drank something the consistency of honey. Hopefully it all tasted good, Mom did comment that it smelled delicious.
The girls and I spent some time with him last night. He was asleep when we entered, but it didn't take long for our ensemble to rouse him from his slumber. Not intentionally, I think we might just be inherently noisy.
He responded well to our visit, but was obviously tired. We updated him on the last few days of our lives, including a rather unfortunate 'D' in 6th grade Spanish. We talked on about the progress on our new house, paying particular attention to the coloring of the kitchen tile and granite. I don't know if he feigned interest for our benefit, but he did seem to enjoy the talk. His voice is still quiet, and I understand only a few words. But it's still good to hear his voice, and see him work through this stage of rehabilitation.
He was alert and responsive enough to answer a few questions for me. While I understand that he can't move his right side, I didn't understand if that included sensation. I've been worried that he could be in pain, and unable to remedy the situation. In response to my question about feeling in his right arm, he simply shook his head 'no'.
I've been worried about his vision as well. Knowing that he had limited vision in his left eye due to the macular degeneration, I was worried that the stroke might have affected his right eye. Again, he responsed to my question, but this time when asked if he could see out of his right eye, he shook his head 'yes'.
We finished our visit and said our goodbyes as the staff came in to finish off his feeding for the day. This time, no swallowing. We were told previously, that the path to eating would be like everything else at this time in his recovery; one step at a time, accepting improvements as they come and providing support and encouragement as he continues down the path of recovery.
transitive verb
1 to take through the mouth and esophagus into the stomach
2 to envelop or take in as if by swallowing: absorb - "swallow the financial loss" "watch night swallow the valley"
3 to accept without question, protest, or resentment "swallow an insult" "a hard story to swallow"
4 take back retract "had to swallow my words"
5 to keep from expressing or showing: repress - swallowed my anger
6 to utter (as words) indistinctly
intransitive verb
1 to receive something into the body through the mouth and esophagus
2 to perform the action characteristic of swallowing something especially under emotional stress
Dad has done a lot of swallowing lately. I don't know that any of it has been easy. But the swallowing I'm excited about is related to food. He actually had his first "meal" today. I don't remember exactly what the staff told me, except that it was all sliced, diced, minced or otherwise mashed into the consistency of baby food. I know that the biggest worry related to him swallowing has been aspiration and/or choking. Puree the food so that choking is less likely. And thicken liquids to reduce the aspiration risk. I didn't try it personally, but I'm told he drank something the consistency of honey. Hopefully it all tasted good, Mom did comment that it smelled delicious.
The girls and I spent some time with him last night. He was asleep when we entered, but it didn't take long for our ensemble to rouse him from his slumber. Not intentionally, I think we might just be inherently noisy.
He responded well to our visit, but was obviously tired. We updated him on the last few days of our lives, including a rather unfortunate 'D' in 6th grade Spanish. We talked on about the progress on our new house, paying particular attention to the coloring of the kitchen tile and granite. I don't know if he feigned interest for our benefit, but he did seem to enjoy the talk. His voice is still quiet, and I understand only a few words. But it's still good to hear his voice, and see him work through this stage of rehabilitation.
He was alert and responsive enough to answer a few questions for me. While I understand that he can't move his right side, I didn't understand if that included sensation. I've been worried that he could be in pain, and unable to remedy the situation. In response to my question about feeling in his right arm, he simply shook his head 'no'.
I've been worried about his vision as well. Knowing that he had limited vision in his left eye due to the macular degeneration, I was worried that the stroke might have affected his right eye. Again, he responsed to my question, but this time when asked if he could see out of his right eye, he shook his head 'yes'.
We finished our visit and said our goodbyes as the staff came in to finish off his feeding for the day. This time, no swallowing. We were told previously, that the path to eating would be like everything else at this time in his recovery; one step at a time, accepting improvements as they come and providing support and encouragement as he continues down the path of recovery.
Monday, March 9, 2009
A day off
Dad is a work-a-holic. This won't come as news to anybody that knows him well. It was something of a disagreement between us for the ~15 years that we worked side by side. Personally, I blame it on his German heritage.
Vacations, for example. My own children accuse me of having a short memory, but I'm pretty sure that I can count on one hand the number of "family" vacations that I remember from my own childhood. Dad isn't cheap, and certainly not afraid of being away from home. It was just the time away from projects that needed his attention that was the issue.
Roughly one year ago, my dear wife pointed out that my own children had experienced an underwhelming total of two family vacations in their first 10 years on this planet. That discussion was the beginning of what would become our 2008 family Disneyworld vacation. We extended an invitation to Mom and Dad, knowing that the odds weren't good that he'd concede. If you've looked at the pictures on this page, you already know that he gave in.
So, Dad took a day off. Actually, he took seven days off. Mind you, this wasn't without a good deal of resistance. But he made sure that I didn't see any of it (a little bird told me). Actually, now that I think of it, I believe his exact comments were something along the lines of "SEVEN DAYS, HOW ON EARTH CAN WE STAY THERE FOR SEVEN DAYS?!?!"
In spite of my enthusiastic pace in what some of my family mistook as an effort to walk them all into early graves, everyone stayed on for the full duration. Dad walked on through some sort of foot injury, and by virtue of compensating ended up with muscle spasms. He walked on through the back pain until late in the night on day two. That's when he and I found ourselves in a cab, driving to an all night clinic in Orlando. But not to fret, after a muscle relaxant and a good nights rest, Dad was ready to continue onward as we trekked through the world of Mickey.
We had been home for several weeks when Dad thanked me. He was laughing when he admitted to his reluctance. But acknowledged having more fun than he expected. I never expected thanks, I was just glad for his company. But I was touched.
I took a day off today. Not from work, but I did not make it to the rehab center tonight. I played soccer dad, I provided dinner to my children (thank you Subway), and I assisted with homework. Oh, and I think I now understand the inner workings of the 6th grade female social circle.
Dad wasn't alone. The rest of the family spent time with him, focused around this evening. Mom relayed a relaxed time together. She says that they talked at length. And while she understood very little of what he said, his tone and tempo seemed consistent with any normal conversation.
I can't say whether Dad hears his voice as we do, but I still have confidence that he's getting better. I believe that he's stopped taking days off, and is now focusing on his newest project.
Vacations, for example. My own children accuse me of having a short memory, but I'm pretty sure that I can count on one hand the number of "family" vacations that I remember from my own childhood. Dad isn't cheap, and certainly not afraid of being away from home. It was just the time away from projects that needed his attention that was the issue.
Roughly one year ago, my dear wife pointed out that my own children had experienced an underwhelming total of two family vacations in their first 10 years on this planet. That discussion was the beginning of what would become our 2008 family Disneyworld vacation. We extended an invitation to Mom and Dad, knowing that the odds weren't good that he'd concede. If you've looked at the pictures on this page, you already know that he gave in.
So, Dad took a day off. Actually, he took seven days off. Mind you, this wasn't without a good deal of resistance. But he made sure that I didn't see any of it (a little bird told me). Actually, now that I think of it, I believe his exact comments were something along the lines of "SEVEN DAYS, HOW ON EARTH CAN WE STAY THERE FOR SEVEN DAYS?!?!"
In spite of my enthusiastic pace in what some of my family mistook as an effort to walk them all into early graves, everyone stayed on for the full duration. Dad walked on through some sort of foot injury, and by virtue of compensating ended up with muscle spasms. He walked on through the back pain until late in the night on day two. That's when he and I found ourselves in a cab, driving to an all night clinic in Orlando. But not to fret, after a muscle relaxant and a good nights rest, Dad was ready to continue onward as we trekked through the world of Mickey.
We had been home for several weeks when Dad thanked me. He was laughing when he admitted to his reluctance. But acknowledged having more fun than he expected. I never expected thanks, I was just glad for his company. But I was touched.
I took a day off today. Not from work, but I did not make it to the rehab center tonight. I played soccer dad, I provided dinner to my children (thank you Subway), and I assisted with homework. Oh, and I think I now understand the inner workings of the 6th grade female social circle.
Dad wasn't alone. The rest of the family spent time with him, focused around this evening. Mom relayed a relaxed time together. She says that they talked at length. And while she understood very little of what he said, his tone and tempo seemed consistent with any normal conversation.
I can't say whether Dad hears his voice as we do, but I still have confidence that he's getting better. I believe that he's stopped taking days off, and is now focusing on his newest project.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Addidas or Nike?
Not a question we've faced before as it relates to Dad. But it looks like one of these fine manufacturers of comfortable clothing is going to be occupying the majority of his drawer space for the time being. Yesterday it was a snazzy new pair of sweatpants, but the choice for today is a much cooler pair of exercise shorts.
And so it is that the man who was seldom caught out of trousers or slacks, is now spending all of his time in Adidas exercise shorts. He does seem to be comfortable, and it's certainly better than the hospital gown. But we've already discussed this previously.
More interaction with the staff from the rehab facility today. And once again, they continue to impress. Professional, efficient and they continue to go out of their way to be polite and kind. Such a stark contrast to where we were the last two weeks.
I promised Dad that I'd bring him some food. I thought out some options, but I don't think I hit on his favorite. Don't get me wrong, he made several expressions of approval as I ran through the list of places that I know he frequents regularly. The deal is pretty simple; he gets back to swallowing real food, and I deliver on the meal. I hope I'm buying soon.
His voice is weaker than prior to the stroke Not that this is a surprise, or that I have any idea what it means. I'm not sure why, or how much stronger it will get. It's certainly understandable. I'm sure his energy level is low, and it could obviously be tied to the weakness on his right side. He's also getting better with syllables and sounds. He's a long way from delivering a speech or hosting a talk show, but he's closer to being understandable.
Oh, I almost forgot. He answered the phone today. I'm not sure how they coordinated it, but Mom called, and he answered. She just wanted to let him know that she'd be up soon. Now, maybe they worked it out in advance, but something so simple; something I certainly try to avoid around my own house, and something we all take for granted. But he answered the phone. Go figure.
And so it is that the man who was seldom caught out of trousers or slacks, is now spending all of his time in Adidas exercise shorts. He does seem to be comfortable, and it's certainly better than the hospital gown. But we've already discussed this previously.
More interaction with the staff from the rehab facility today. And once again, they continue to impress. Professional, efficient and they continue to go out of their way to be polite and kind. Such a stark contrast to where we were the last two weeks.
I promised Dad that I'd bring him some food. I thought out some options, but I don't think I hit on his favorite. Don't get me wrong, he made several expressions of approval as I ran through the list of places that I know he frequents regularly. The deal is pretty simple; he gets back to swallowing real food, and I deliver on the meal. I hope I'm buying soon.
His voice is weaker than prior to the stroke Not that this is a surprise, or that I have any idea what it means. I'm not sure why, or how much stronger it will get. It's certainly understandable. I'm sure his energy level is low, and it could obviously be tied to the weakness on his right side. He's also getting better with syllables and sounds. He's a long way from delivering a speech or hosting a talk show, but he's closer to being understandable.
Oh, I almost forgot. He answered the phone today. I'm not sure how they coordinated it, but Mom called, and he answered. She just wanted to let him know that she'd be up soon. Now, maybe they worked it out in advance, but something so simple; something I certainly try to avoid around my own house, and something we all take for granted. But he answered the phone. Go figure.
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