Coming Home

It’s June.  It’s a month, it’s an anniversary.

It’s not a birthday, though Lily and Lyle have June birthdays.  It’s not a wedding anniversary, though June is a pretty big “get married” month.  Marty and I got married in January.

It’s a homecoming, more accurately it’s a coming home anniversary and it’s one of those milestone anniversaries.  Eleven years ago this month Marty came home after an April aneurysm, eleven years since she had a better chance of dying than living. 

Ten years ago in June Marty and I came home after her second stroke, the one that took her left side, her independence and part of her fire.

Both times the coming home was relatively short lived.  After the aneurysm Marty had to have one more surgery to replace the cover on her lid, she had a piece of her skull missing.  They had to go back and replace it with prosthesis.   It’s great plastic work, you can’t tell it from the original.

The second time, we weren’t home more than a week before we had to go back to the hospital via the emergency room.  It was the first er/hospital trip of many. 

That was ten years ago, ten years ago when a couple of friends took me to play golf and we got through five holes before I got a call that I needed to come home.  I went home, I talked to the home health nurse, we took Marty to the hospital, again, and checked her in because of pneumonia.  I felt completely and totally overwhelmed.

I clearly remember sitting on the tub in our bathroom (my hideout) trying to catch my breath, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to avoid a full blown anxiety attack.  It felt like, after all we had been through, it was one disaster after another all leading, all culminating in Marty dying on my watch, at our home, where I was supposed to be good enough, smart enough, strong enough to will her alive and healthy.

That was ten years ago and our lives have continued to evolve, largely for the better.  Marty is still broken, Marty is still very susceptible to infection and illness, Marty still requires more care than I ever thought.   Marty is still with me, with all of us, and it’s very much a miracle of medicine, good care, and good old fashioned Watkins women’s perseverance.

We have endured a lot of anxiety and we have lived through tumultuous change.  We have been afraid, we have mourned, we have cried, we have been angry, we have felt guilt, been lonely, isolated, ignorant, sometimes careless and without faith. 

We have felt and experienced pretty much the same emotions as normal people, the same as most of you, yet different, maybe enhanced, maybe not.

What I know is we are living, 11 years after brushing against our own mortality.  We are smarter and more experienced and better able to handle whatever the future may send us. 

I really want everyone to understand that the road the fates have taken us has been, at too many times, awful.  The last 10 or 11 years have been harder than I ever imagined and I was not, not, not remotely prepared or emotionally capable of handling this past decade. 

Guess what, I, we, Marty and me, handled it and we did it, not because we’re special, we aren’t.  There is a simple key, it’s really simple, you do what you have to do, you face what you have to face and you walk your path one tremulous step at a time and you don’t look too far down the trail or it will be way too frightening.

The result of the last decade, I have learned more than I ever wanted to know.  I found my passion, something we all need to find, it turns out I was living with her all the time.  I learned I could learn and so could Marty, I learned we could endure hardship, I learned we are up to the task we have been given, and most importantly I learned you can adapt to anything, to any disaster in your personal journey. 

And if I know anything, I know you can do it too.

They Dun Broke Our Grandson

Our oldest and only male grandson was bitten by a dog last Saturday and when I say bitten I mean attacked.  I know the phrase”attacked by a dog” sounds pretty harsh but if it is your son, daughter or grandson that’s been attacked, and then it’s dead on accurate.

Apparently said grandson, age six, was running the neighborhood with his posse when they went into of his pal’s back yard and startled the mutt, the mutt who had never bitten anyone, and mutt being the breed.  The dog grabbed the arm and then moved to the face.  The first our son Matt knew of the attack was when the neighbor came running down the alley with a bloody, crying boy child. 

Grandson chilling giving the thumbs up before the repair work.

The owner of the offending dog and my kids have handled all of this like the responsible adults and neighbors they are, they are all to be commended to this point.  The dog wasn’t a dangerous breed running loose on the street, the dog wasn’t a bitter, it was, it was a terrible accident.

Grandson went to the emergency room which, thanks or no thanks to Marty’s numerous trips, our family understands.   We know how to do the ER.  He was examined, cleaned up and dismissed with orders to report back later in the week to have the wounds closed surgically.  They didn’t do the suturing immediately in deference to potential infection.

The grandson had the gluing and stitching done yesterday.  He came through like the tough little kid he is and looks a little bit like he’s been in a fist fight.  

I went to the hospital in Dallas to offer what moral support I could to grandson and his parents.  When I told Marty I was going she said, in no uncertain terms, “Get him a toy.”  She still knows not to go to the hospital empty handed.

Grandson’s other grandmother and I spent a few hours together in the pediatric surgical waiting room.  While being in a surgical waiting room, particularly a pediatric surgical waiting room is a colossal and frightening drag I couldn’t shake the feeling that I bet our reason for surgery was a lot better than some of those parents.  

Sick kids, dangerously sick kids, kids with heart problems or long problems or any serious problems are the absolute worst.  Matt and Erin both had hospital experiences and they simply suck for kids and parents.  

I remember as they wheeled Matt off to surgery on two different occasions.  I felt completely powerless, out of control, scared, angry and scared some more.  It is impossibly hard to believe you are making the decision to send your loved one, your totally vulnerable child, into an operating room to be anesthetized, sutured, patched, bandaged, and maybe saved by strangers.

Situations like this always drive home how much I, how much my whole family really misses having the large and in charge Marty.  The large and in charge part could be a bit over powering at times but I really miss her intellect, her problem solving, her knowledge of the medical process, her questions, her answers and her passion.  

I miss it, so do our kids, and so do our grand-kids whether they know it or not.  

I can state unequivocally, I missed it when it was her in the hospital and I was the one in charge.

But, in a sense Marty was there. 

She taught me, she taught her kids how to do what needs to be done.  Marty’s influence was with Erin when she called me and told me I needed get myself to Dallas, Marty’s experience was there when Matt and Sarah drove grandson to the ER, and Marty was with them when they talked to the nurse and the doctor until they had a thorough understanding of the care and treatment of the post surgical grand-kid.

Marty, through her life, through her illness, taught us how to do the crises in our lives.  She modeled the caring, compassionate, in-charge behaviors for our children enough that maybe, just maybe her presences was felt through the whole incident from bite to stitch.

Marty didn’t get to drive to Dallas the Saturday the attack occurred, believe me when I say, nothing would have held back the old Marty.  Marty didn’t get to actually sit in the hospital while a six year old baby was being put back together.  Maybe it doesn’t matter that she wasn’t in the room; maybe the most important things, her influence and her guidance and her confidence were there through her family.  I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel.

Oh….and #2 granddaughter’s cat died….Marty would have been all over that too.

In Again.....

The home health nurse called me Friday afternoon and said Marty had a lot of bacteria in her urine so we started her on our tried and true antibiotic.  They called Monday afternoon and said, nope, that particular antibiotic won’t kill the bug, I said the nicest thing I could say, “Well crap.”  I have better words, more powerful words at my disposal but I showed restraint. 

On Tuesday we checked into Providence Hospital where we have a room with a view.  Hey, don’t hate, a room with a view in the hospital is primo stuff.

The plan is to attack this Pseudomonas aeruginosa bacterium with Nebcin, a powerful antibiotic,  because Nebcin is the best IV antibiotic to smoke this bug.  We did this same thing in June of this year but used a different antibiotic.

Marty, as one would imagine, is not completely on board with this event.  She says, “I don’t feel bad, why am I here?”  I say, “Because we love you and hate pseudomonas aeruginosa.”

The truth is I was surprised at both of these diagnoses.  Marty seemed to feel fine and was not showing her usual symptoms of an infection.  She was showing some signs of a fatigue but all other signs pointed to….well nothing, that’s why we like having the home health nurse come by regularly to retrieve some urine.

By all accounts there were a lot of the evil bacteria in the pee and the lack of sensitivity of it to oral antibiotics Marty can take is a hugely complicating factor.  Thank God for a variety of bacteria killers.

Marty is hanging in there occasionally pouting, sleeping, watching TV and dealing with the comings and goings of various medical providers at all hours of the day and night.  She has been on a “I’m not getting out of bed” mode until I finally said yes you are and guess what, she kind of liked getting up and letting her back and bed get a little air.

We wheeled around the floor two or three times, looked out the window and found one spot where she could sit in the sun for just a few minutes.  We went back in the room and Marty stayed in her chair, talked with daughter Erin on the phone and watched Ellen, she loves Ellen.

With luck the urine sample they took today will be clean and clear and Great and Wise will spring us from hospital captivity on Saturday.  Can you imagine how good a real shower will feel after five days in the hospital?

We still plan on Thanksgiving at the lake with our whole family.  Pure pee should have arrived by then and we won’t have to worry about that particular ailment for awhile, I like not worrying about someone else’s pee.

Marty continues to do what she does which is live, accept, make new friends and have an impact on an ever expanding universe of people.  I know I’m not particularly objective but I believe the people she contacts, the lives she touches are always enriched.  We just get to do that with different people when she’s in the hospital.

Here’s to getting the hell out of here soon.

We're Meeting New People.....In the Hospital

So far we have met Shireen, Odessa and Katie.  Shireen is from Kenya, we met her in the emergency room, Odessa is not from Odessa and settled us into the room about 1 a.m., Katie is taking care of Marty in her room today.  We are lucky; these three nurses have been great.

Marty got sick last night, she did the body spasm thing and then, right after eating a marvelous dinner I had prepared, she threw up.  I don’t think it was a commentary on the pork tenderloin even though it was a bit dry.  It was, as proven by our ER visit, a systemic response to infection.

It was a surprise to all that we ended up in the ER that evening because we had just visited the good offices of Great and Wise to talk about a myriad of other niggling details.  Marty was sharp, clear, and responsive and at the doctor’s office.

After talking with Great and Wise I was flying solo in the late afternoon to give a couple of our ladies some much needed time away from us.  I kind of like being in the house alone with Marty, it gives us some time just to ourselves and keeps me really connected to all of the little idiosyncrasies of caring for Marty.  

I wish I could accurately describe Marty’s body’s actions when she does these spasm things.  It starts as a yawn and a stretch but is longer and more pronounced.  It is obviously different from a voluntary stretching of stiff muscles.  It almost always ends with a little moan from Marty and her upper torso contracting to the right.  

It’s all pretty subtle but when I see it I almost always start sweating from anxiety.  It’s actually a pretty amazing autonomic reaction on my part, Marty stretches uncontrollably, I sweat.

Dinner had been prepared but I knew, as subtle as it seemed, as much as I just wanted to blow it off and chalk it up to hyper vigilance we were going to make a trip to the ER, I started making plans.  Providence ER allows you to go on-line and set up an “appointment”.  What it really does is gives me some idea of how long we would wait to be seen.  I set up the appointment for 9 p.m.; the emergency room was clearly busy.

We ate supper and as I was cleaning the dishes, Marty still at the table started to heave a little, she was about to puke.  Now here is an amazing piece of rather gross information, I stood beside my bride as stuff came out her mouth, hands under her mouth catching the not digested food in a cloth all the while talking in a soothing voice, encouraging her not to hold back but let it go.  

This is completely contrary to my normal persona, in fact I’m feeling a little bit nauseated just writing about it, but for some mysterious reason that only loved ones and parents of puking little kids understand, how I felt about the vomiting process was not paramount in my mind. 

I immediately started planning a trip to the ER, not at 9 p.m. but right then.

As luck would have it the ER had received my request for an appointment and called and said I should bring Marty now.  I gathered the tools of our trade, the med list, the med history, the spare bag with hygiene essentials, my I pad and I pad charger.  With Marty loaded and locked in the van we got to the hospital about 6:50 and were in a room seeing a doctor and Shereen the Kenyan nurse by about 7:10, God bless Providence.

We made it up to a room on the third floor a little after midnight with the diagnosis of a mild pneumonia.  We met Odessa, the remarkably competent and caring floor nurse, she checked Marty out and in and I gave her my spiel and I left Marty in the competent hands of Odessa and her care giver La Shonda about 2 a.m...

We are still in the hospital hanging out watching Ellen and Jeopardy and CNN.  Marty has slept most of the day which is a good thing since she slept very little last night.  We have seen Great and Wise and will make some decisions about the length of stay after blood tests in the morning.

We don’t like being in the hospital, it really kind of bites.  All things considered we are here because we need to be and will do what we need to do to take our next step on our rather odd and winding journey.  

I never would have thought I could hold warm stomach fluids in my hand.  But it’s like a lot of things, you just do it without thinking because if you think about it too much it makes you kind of queasy.

She's Doing Five to Seven With No Chance of Peerole

Damn it.  We are back in the hospital.  Since Tuesday, damn it.

I never said it but I thought it.  I was driving and against my better judgment I thought it.  It was a fleeting thought but there it was, me thinking everything was normal, me basking in the glory of not worrying about the next shoe to drop.  That was Monday; I was riding high tempting fate.

Marty gets urinary tract infections, it happens with some regularity and it is part and parcel of her strokes.  To combat her propensity for UTIs Marty takes a daily prophylactic antibiotic that has helped but not completely stopped the infections.  UTIs can be debilitating, causing some pain, causing a general funky feeling and even causing a little cognitive impairment.  That’s why we take these infections seriously and react quickly.

Months ago, through the direction of Great and Wise we started working with a home health nurse that comes about every three weeks to get and test Marty’s pee.  The most recent test indicated a urinary tract infection.  That was last Friday.  We started the typical antibiotic and frankly Marty seemed to be doing great.  

Monday, the day I was driving, the day the thought of normalcy flashed through my melon, the home health nurse called and said the normal antibiotic was not going to work.  Marty had Pseudomonas Aeruginosa in her pee and we needed something different.  Okay, no biggie, I called Great and Wise, just change the antibiotic, we will be good as new.

Then it got a little complicated.  I talked to nurse Wendy and she said yep, Levaquin was not going to be our friend this time.  The only friendly antibiotic that Marty wasn’t allergic too required intravenous feeding, thus she is sentenced to five to seven days in the hospital with no possibility of peerole or pardon. 

After consultation with the Great Office of Great and Wise we delayed our check in just a tad.  I had a meeting with the fabulous Sheryl, our financial guru, and we badly needed haircuts.  We did both of those things and checked into Providence Hospital on Tuesday at 3:30, just like The Hilton but without the mini bar but a really cool moving bed.

This whole process is a little scary because it is exactly what happened five years ago when Marty had her last and worst seizure, a seizure so powerful she broke her left arm as she laid in bed being treated for the exact same illness we are dealing with today.  It’s a little déjà vuie and not in a good way, in fact, in a very bad way, that was a dark time.

That hasn’t happened this time.  We got past that first day and no seizures.  All of Marty’s blood work is coming back with good numbers, her chest is clear and she is actually feeling okay.  I give her about two days before she gets really stir crazy.  She will probably get a little nuts and her dirty hair will bother her because she is doing her five to seven days for possessing bad pee.

When the new nurse came last night she asked several Marty several basic questions to determine her cognitive functioning and orientation as to time and place.  She never knows the year and bless her heart she still thinks George Bush is President which is kind of like living in the Twilight Zone forever.  

She answered all of the other questions perfectly and with vim and vigor with just a hint of sarcasm.  

To conclude the visit the nurse turned to Marty and asked, “Do you know why you are here?”

Marty, without pausing, jerks her right thumb to me, the poor goober sitting to her right minding his own business and says, “Yeah, him.”

Okay, yes I brought her here; no I didn’t have anything to do with stinky pee.  I’m just glad we have good people taking care of her so I will take the rap and play the snitch, this time.