3:00 pm
Hey people! It's Renee again. Man, my mom is impressive. But we already knew that.
So far today she has:
-taken a shower with very little assistance, taking special care to make sure her hair is nicely "fluffed" for visitors
-brushed her teeth and given us a lecture on the merits of various styles of floss
-eaten an exciting breakfast of thinned creamed wheat and applesauce
-taken a couple laps of the fourth floor, stopping to check out the view
-ordered creamed chicken soup and tapioca pudding for lunch (She rated this meal a "3 out of 10." She's a food snob.)
-shown off her rad incision to everyone who walks by (it looks great--nice and neat, no redness.)
Every doctor and nurse we've talked to today is amazed with how well she's doing. They keep telling us, incredibly, that there's a good chance she'll go home tomorrow. She's working on weaning off the epidural pain meds. As soon as she's done with those, the catheter can come out. This of course thrills my mom, though I'll sort of miss it--watching the little bag fill up with pee is like sitting by a soothing water feature ;)
Daniel and our good friend Kristi are helping my mom get up for another walk now. Off she goes at her usual competitive pace! My dad and I are hanging out eating tasty roast beef sandwiches that my grandma brought over. It turns out when your mom has cancer, people bring you anything you want. It's like Christmas! Need some coffee? Here it is! Lunch, dinner, dessert? Ta-da! Daniel and I are trying to get someone to buy us new laptops, but no luck with that one so far. Maybe we don't seem quite pathetic enough. We've been smiling all day because my mom looks so great.
I made three New Years resolutions this year. The first is to do my first century (bike 100 miles in one day). The second is to learn to drive a stick shift (don't judge me). And the third is so cheesy I didn't tell a single person until now: to write lists of things I'm thankful for whenever I'm feeling stressed. I had no idea this one would be such a lifesaver. It's been the craziest, most exhausting week ever, but I can honestly say I have so much to be thankful for. I was reminding my mom this morning that about 90% of the news we've received since coming to the hospital has been positive. The cancer was found relatively early, no other organs were involved, the surgeon was able to remove all visible cancer, the prognosis is good, the best possible medical team was assembled for her case, etc. etc. Focusing on the good news, cheesy as it sounds, is a real mood booster. As is the sun! If we all go home tomorrow, we're going to miss watching the gorgeous sunsets against Mt. Rainier (aka the Mountain) and the city skyline. The view in Shoreline doesn't quite compare.
Well I hear my mom coming back to the room, so I better sign off for now. She played the cancer card to strong-arm me into playing her favorite card game with her. I wonder how long she'll be able to milk this? I would have been happy to play a strategy card game with her while she was all doped up, but now that she's pretty much her old self I don't stand a chance.
Bye for now, dudes! Sorry about your Seahawks or whatever.
~Renee
PS: I just remembered that I also told myself I'd write more in 2013, and now here I am blogging about hospital adventures. My mom's resolution was to lose a little weight this year, and my dad's was to work less. Be careful what you wish for, I guess!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
1/13/13 Censored in China
10:00 AM
Not to brag, but I have one patient who lives in China. He is seeing me for an appointment next month. I suspect that he is coming back to Seattle to visit his mother and is throwing in a visit with me just because he is in town, but I prefer to reverse that and say that he's flying all the way over here to see me. He gets the award for my patient who lives the farthest away. All that to say that he has taken an interest in this whole Gabrielle journey, but has expressed frustration that the Chinese government has blocked access to this blog. For some reason, that sounds pretty exciting in a subversive sort of way. Makes me think that Gabrielle is one of those ragamuffins singing about when tomorrow comes on the barricades in Les Mis. Apart from China, people from eight countries, at last count, have been following her. So, perhaps we should rename the blog "the whole world (except the Chinese government) loves Gabrielle". I don't know what she did to offend them. Heck, some of our first dates were the old Ming Tree and Toys Cafe restaurants in Bellevue. Daniel is friends with the Louies folks of Ballard fame, so we are well connected.
As far as medical updates go, she is currently noshing on some thinned cream of wheat with a HUGE smile on her face. Kids have just showed up and they are forcing me to leave so that I can get some rest. I will tell them that I am heading straight home to bed. How will they know that I am making a beeline for the Ram Sports Bar at Northgate to check on the Hawks? Go Seahawks!
I have instructed them to update you guys shortly in matters medical. As for the Seahawks, as far as I know, they are banned in China too.
Not to brag, but I have one patient who lives in China. He is seeing me for an appointment next month. I suspect that he is coming back to Seattle to visit his mother and is throwing in a visit with me just because he is in town, but I prefer to reverse that and say that he's flying all the way over here to see me. He gets the award for my patient who lives the farthest away. All that to say that he has taken an interest in this whole Gabrielle journey, but has expressed frustration that the Chinese government has blocked access to this blog. For some reason, that sounds pretty exciting in a subversive sort of way. Makes me think that Gabrielle is one of those ragamuffins singing about when tomorrow comes on the barricades in Les Mis. Apart from China, people from eight countries, at last count, have been following her. So, perhaps we should rename the blog "the whole world (except the Chinese government) loves Gabrielle". I don't know what she did to offend them. Heck, some of our first dates were the old Ming Tree and Toys Cafe restaurants in Bellevue. Daniel is friends with the Louies folks of Ballard fame, so we are well connected.
As far as medical updates go, she is currently noshing on some thinned cream of wheat with a HUGE smile on her face. Kids have just showed up and they are forcing me to leave so that I can get some rest. I will tell them that I am heading straight home to bed. How will they know that I am making a beeline for the Ram Sports Bar at Northgate to check on the Hawks? Go Seahawks!
I have instructed them to update you guys shortly in matters medical. As for the Seahawks, as far as I know, they are banned in China too.
1/13/13 Sunday morning
7:30 AM
Steve here.
I got night duty and it went fairly well. She dozed much of the night in a light sleep. Can't get much deeper than that with the humming of the pumps and things like that. Once her fever and pain were addressed and knocked back, she was feeling more comfortable. Is still snoozing right now.
The day is dawning with pink skies to the east. To heck with that sailor's adage about "red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky at morn, sailors take warn". I prefer to think "red sky at morn, a good day to be born" (and to fight cancer, but that doesn't rhyme). Maybe I can work on it a little: red sky in the east, time to beat the beast? Red sky at dawn, cancer begone! Hey, I like this! The Bard's got nuthin' on me!
Mt. Rainier stands sentinel over the scene with one of those funky lenticular clouds sitting near the summit. It is always a good day when we can see the Mountain (see prior post about being capitalized). It will be a good day.
Now, one quick story. For those interested in medical updates, you could have stopped at the first paragraph. If you want to read Steve's anecdotes, fueled by hospital coffee and as good a night's sleep as one can be expected on a hospital cot, then read on.
Had a bit of a break yesterday and hightailed it to Golden Gardens. There is something about being at the seashore that always brings me solace. I was looking for something to bring back and came up with the following:
An oyster shell. It was rough on one side smooth on the other. Oysters, when giving grit and dirt turn it into something of real beauty, a pearl. That's what Gabrielle will do with this cancer.
A mussel shell. OK, a bit of a stretch here. It sounds like muscle (I guess they're homonyms, that's the word I'm looking for). Muscle reminds me of strength. Gabrielle has lots of that. So her blue mussel shell tells me she is strong and will marshal that strength to fight this, with every muscle she has. And when she is ready she would like to have a pot of mussels in coconut curry sauce (not too spicy please).
Some pieces of beach glass. It is just like the ocean to take something that is broken with sharp rugged edges and polish it off and turn it into a thing of beauty (thanks, by the way, to Dean and the boys for your contribution to the beach glass and shell collection as well yesterday). That is what is going to happen to the cancer. I like beach glass.
Here's to the dawn of a good day. Oh, and Go Seahawks!
Steve here.
I got night duty and it went fairly well. She dozed much of the night in a light sleep. Can't get much deeper than that with the humming of the pumps and things like that. Once her fever and pain were addressed and knocked back, she was feeling more comfortable. Is still snoozing right now.
The day is dawning with pink skies to the east. To heck with that sailor's adage about "red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky at morn, sailors take warn". I prefer to think "red sky at morn, a good day to be born" (and to fight cancer, but that doesn't rhyme). Maybe I can work on it a little: red sky in the east, time to beat the beast? Red sky at dawn, cancer begone! Hey, I like this! The Bard's got nuthin' on me!
Mt. Rainier stands sentinel over the scene with one of those funky lenticular clouds sitting near the summit. It is always a good day when we can see the Mountain (see prior post about being capitalized). It will be a good day.
Now, one quick story. For those interested in medical updates, you could have stopped at the first paragraph. If you want to read Steve's anecdotes, fueled by hospital coffee and as good a night's sleep as one can be expected on a hospital cot, then read on.
Had a bit of a break yesterday and hightailed it to Golden Gardens. There is something about being at the seashore that always brings me solace. I was looking for something to bring back and came up with the following:
An oyster shell. It was rough on one side smooth on the other. Oysters, when giving grit and dirt turn it into something of real beauty, a pearl. That's what Gabrielle will do with this cancer.
A mussel shell. OK, a bit of a stretch here. It sounds like muscle (I guess they're homonyms, that's the word I'm looking for). Muscle reminds me of strength. Gabrielle has lots of that. So her blue mussel shell tells me she is strong and will marshal that strength to fight this, with every muscle she has. And when she is ready she would like to have a pot of mussels in coconut curry sauce (not too spicy please).
Some pieces of beach glass. It is just like the ocean to take something that is broken with sharp rugged edges and polish it off and turn it into a thing of beauty (thanks, by the way, to Dean and the boys for your contribution to the beach glass and shell collection as well yesterday). That is what is going to happen to the cancer. I like beach glass.
Here's to the dawn of a good day. Oh, and Go Seahawks!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
1/12/13 Doing better!
Hey friends! Renee here. Just a quick update to let you know that my mom is doing so much better than she was a couple hours ago. Her amazing anesthesiologist, Dr. Escribano, came in and saved the day. He was able to get her pain under control and now she reports feeling only a 2 out of 10 on the pain scale! It turns out one of her IV tubes was kinked and she wasn't getting nearly enough meds. Dr. Escribano figured out the problem and got her all squared away. He'll also be back in the middle of the night to check on her, which is a huge relief to her. He's so encouraging and is very pleased with my mom's progress. She looks like a happy little stoner over there now sipping her "horrible" chicken broth and choking down some "sickeningly sweet" Jell-O. If the food quality is her biggest complaint right now, I think we're doing OK.
Oh, Dr. Escribano also explained that her fever is probably just a symptom of her shallower breathing due to surgery pain--NOT and infection, thank goodness! The fever should pass before too long, and it's nothing to worry about.
My mom says Dr. Escribano is her hero tonight. As for me, I have all sorts of heroes on this adventure so far: all the compassionate nurses, the brilliantly skilled doctors, my endlessly thoughtful brother, my brave dad, our overwhelmingly supportive friends and family, and of course my incredible mom (just to name a few)! In spite of all the chaos of this week, I continue to feel surprisingly peaceful and grateful.
God has brought us through every trial in our lives so far, and we're confident He'll bring us through this one too. "Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come; 'Twas grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home!"
Oh, Dr. Escribano also explained that her fever is probably just a symptom of her shallower breathing due to surgery pain--NOT and infection, thank goodness! The fever should pass before too long, and it's nothing to worry about.
My mom says Dr. Escribano is her hero tonight. As for me, I have all sorts of heroes on this adventure so far: all the compassionate nurses, the brilliantly skilled doctors, my endlessly thoughtful brother, my brave dad, our overwhelmingly supportive friends and family, and of course my incredible mom (just to name a few)! In spite of all the chaos of this week, I continue to feel surprisingly peaceful and grateful.
God has brought us through every trial in our lives so far, and we're confident He'll bring us through this one too. "Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come; 'Twas grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home!"
1/12/13 Saturday evening
7:00 P.M.
Not doing great right now. Earlier in the afternoon, she was much perkier. Has been up and walking. Took two walks (being careful to add an extra gown so as not to add to the upcoming full moon in the sky) and did quite well. Ate two servings of Jello. Let's see now, that's a total of 200 calories in the last four days. We are waiting for some chicken broth to be sent up from the cafeteria. When Sara, the nurse's aid, asked Gabrielle what she wanted, broth-wise, she offered the choice of beef, chicken or vegetable. Gabrielle quickly said, "chicken", to which I added: "She only wants broth from free-range organic chickens from the People's Cooperative Collective in Sequim". For some reason that resulted in a blank stare from Sara. After Sara left to hunt down the aforementioned free-range broth, Renee reminded me, yet again, that people don't understand me. She's been reminding me of that for years and I still say things like that.
As for Gabrielle, pain is getting worse right now. Rates it as an 8 out of 10. Has called for the anesthesiologist who has ordered up a bolus dose of Dilaudid and will be up shortly after he is done with a C-section. I suppose that's reasonable. She is also having a fever: 100.6. An hour ago, it was 100. If it gets a little higher, she gets blood cultures to look for infection. Just got some Tylenol on board, so that should help. A moment ago, for the first time since checking in to Hotel Northwest, a tiny frown came across her face, indicating she's having a tough go.
But, good things along the way: on her walk, she paused at the gathering area adjacent to the elevator where she was delighted to see a delightful pink glow across the sky and Mt. Rainier in the distance. She planted herself and reflected on the time that she climbed that mountain as if it were a walk in the park.
Speaking of Mt. Rainier, our dear friend, Frank Minton came by to visit two days ago. He's the one who led the ascent of Mt. Rainier. In our visitor's log, he wrote the most encouraging words as they pertained to Gabrielle, the Mountain (summiters always capitalize it...kind of a cool thing to do), and her current struggle. I would like to quote him as we were all so touched by his wise words. I hope you don't mind, Frank.
From Frank:
Gabrielle,
Remember when we climbed Mt. Rainier that the ascent became increasingly difficult, the yawning crevasses were scary, each step was painful, and you were tempted more than once to stop. Yet, you persevered and reached the top. The next day, as you met people struggling upwards, you could flash a high five saying "I made it".
This evening of January 10 you are figuratively at Camp Muir and you have challenges ahead, but you have the faith and will power to triumph this time too. On Mt. Rainier only four people were on your rope, but this time scores of friends who love and admire you are on your rope team.
We will be with you as you progress, and our thoughts and prayers are especially with you during surgery.
Wise words from a wise man. Here's to everyone on her rope team. You guys are amazing.
Not doing great right now. Earlier in the afternoon, she was much perkier. Has been up and walking. Took two walks (being careful to add an extra gown so as not to add to the upcoming full moon in the sky) and did quite well. Ate two servings of Jello. Let's see now, that's a total of 200 calories in the last four days. We are waiting for some chicken broth to be sent up from the cafeteria. When Sara, the nurse's aid, asked Gabrielle what she wanted, broth-wise, she offered the choice of beef, chicken or vegetable. Gabrielle quickly said, "chicken", to which I added: "She only wants broth from free-range organic chickens from the People's Cooperative Collective in Sequim". For some reason that resulted in a blank stare from Sara. After Sara left to hunt down the aforementioned free-range broth, Renee reminded me, yet again, that people don't understand me. She's been reminding me of that for years and I still say things like that.
As for Gabrielle, pain is getting worse right now. Rates it as an 8 out of 10. Has called for the anesthesiologist who has ordered up a bolus dose of Dilaudid and will be up shortly after he is done with a C-section. I suppose that's reasonable. She is also having a fever: 100.6. An hour ago, it was 100. If it gets a little higher, she gets blood cultures to look for infection. Just got some Tylenol on board, so that should help. A moment ago, for the first time since checking in to Hotel Northwest, a tiny frown came across her face, indicating she's having a tough go.
But, good things along the way: on her walk, she paused at the gathering area adjacent to the elevator where she was delighted to see a delightful pink glow across the sky and Mt. Rainier in the distance. She planted herself and reflected on the time that she climbed that mountain as if it were a walk in the park.
Speaking of Mt. Rainier, our dear friend, Frank Minton came by to visit two days ago. He's the one who led the ascent of Mt. Rainier. In our visitor's log, he wrote the most encouraging words as they pertained to Gabrielle, the Mountain (summiters always capitalize it...kind of a cool thing to do), and her current struggle. I would like to quote him as we were all so touched by his wise words. I hope you don't mind, Frank.
From Frank:
Gabrielle,
Remember when we climbed Mt. Rainier that the ascent became increasingly difficult, the yawning crevasses were scary, each step was painful, and you were tempted more than once to stop. Yet, you persevered and reached the top. The next day, as you met people struggling upwards, you could flash a high five saying "I made it".
This evening of January 10 you are figuratively at Camp Muir and you have challenges ahead, but you have the faith and will power to triumph this time too. On Mt. Rainier only four people were on your rope, but this time scores of friends who love and admire you are on your rope team.
We will be with you as you progress, and our thoughts and prayers are especially with you during surgery.
Wise words from a wise man. Here's to everyone on her rope team. You guys are amazing.
1/12/13 Nap time
12:50 Nap time.
No, I am not going to turn into one of those Tweeters or bloggers who chronicles ever little thing, but am giving a brief update nonetheless. Sleeping soundly right now after a lap around the floor with assistance of her very friendly CNA, Ify. An extra shot of pain med and she is off in La la land for a well-deserved nap.
Saw Emily, the PA who works with Dr. M. today. She was very optimistic but ended her words on an ominous note: "today, she will love me, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow is when we pull the plug on the IV pain meds." Thrills. One of the oncologists also came by and had a very nice, long talk with us about how things are going. He was also upbeat and positive. I'm happy to take any upbeat, positive vibes that he sends our way. Maybe it is augmented by all those prayers, kind thoughts, lit candles, food baskets, kind comments via e-mail, text, blog comments. No matter, we'll take them all.
So now, I am in the corner tapping away while the sound of the IV whirs along. It is a very comforting sound. Renee has stepped out to bring us lunch. I opened my wallet and showed her some bills. For some strange reason, her nimble fingers instinctively bypassed a bunch of ones and went for the lone $20 note, even before the number was visible. How do kids do that? Must be an inborn skill or something. And for good measure, she also snagged the Visa card before I could bat an eye. Like I said, smart kid.
And that, my friends is pretty much it. Emily, the PA said today would be a boring day. Totally fine by me. I'll take boring after the past few days we've had. Am delighted to report no new surgeries, procedures, test reports. Just healing, resting and trying her best to drink two ounces of apple juice. I wish I could join her, but have that pork burrito to contend with, then I'll have to chase down my wayward Visa card.
No, I am not going to turn into one of those Tweeters or bloggers who chronicles ever little thing, but am giving a brief update nonetheless. Sleeping soundly right now after a lap around the floor with assistance of her very friendly CNA, Ify. An extra shot of pain med and she is off in La la land for a well-deserved nap.
Saw Emily, the PA who works with Dr. M. today. She was very optimistic but ended her words on an ominous note: "today, she will love me, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow is when we pull the plug on the IV pain meds." Thrills. One of the oncologists also came by and had a very nice, long talk with us about how things are going. He was also upbeat and positive. I'm happy to take any upbeat, positive vibes that he sends our way. Maybe it is augmented by all those prayers, kind thoughts, lit candles, food baskets, kind comments via e-mail, text, blog comments. No matter, we'll take them all.
So now, I am in the corner tapping away while the sound of the IV whirs along. It is a very comforting sound. Renee has stepped out to bring us lunch. I opened my wallet and showed her some bills. For some strange reason, her nimble fingers instinctively bypassed a bunch of ones and went for the lone $20 note, even before the number was visible. How do kids do that? Must be an inborn skill or something. And for good measure, she also snagged the Visa card before I could bat an eye. Like I said, smart kid.
And that, my friends is pretty much it. Emily, the PA said today would be a boring day. Totally fine by me. I'll take boring after the past few days we've had. Am delighted to report no new surgeries, procedures, test reports. Just healing, resting and trying her best to drink two ounces of apple juice. I wish I could join her, but have that pork burrito to contend with, then I'll have to chase down my wayward Visa card.
1/12/13 Saturday morning
9:10 AM
Steve here.
Renee and I are at home, while Danny the Champion of the World took care of ministering to Gabrielle. So far, he reports she is in good spirits this morning, but doesn't think she will be up for visitors today. So all you kind people viewing from places far and wide (some as far as Europe) don't need to hop on the Concorde just yet.
No medical updates, but a couple of quick stories.
The first has to do with that little uterus pin I alluded to yesterday. I guess you find it at http://iheartguts.com/ No, this isn't a commercial and I don't get royalties. The kids pointed out that I caught Dr. M. by surprise when I told her that (embarrasingly this is an exact quote from me, not one of my finer interactions with a doctor), "I love your assistant's uterus." Kids were quick to point out that I meant her uterus pin, her uterus pin! Good thing she wasn't a breast surgeon.
On another note, I don't know if this is a true story or even if I have the person right, but if it isn't, it ought to be:
The great missionary to China, Hudson Taylor once walked in to a classroom of future missionaries with a glass of water in his hand. He put it down on the desk and then slammed his fist hard on the table, causing the contents to spill all over the place. He then said to the students, "Your life is like this glass of water. When it is shaken, what is inside comes out." I know I am not saying it exactly right, but you get the point.
All that to say that Gabrielle's life has been shaken this week like never before. Through it all, what has been shaken has come out: kindness, joy, patience, strength. I have never been more proud of her than I have this week. Not once has an angry word crossed her lips. She doesn't complain (other than about the sandpaper that passes for Kleenex at the hospital) and has been what I consider to be a model patient. Yesterday's anesthesiologist came out and told me that it was "an honor to be working with such a patient". You don't hear doctors say that every day. Gabrielle is cheerful and upbeat to the nurses, wanting to make sure she pronounces their names correctly, asks them where they went to school, if they are married (OK, so she is trolling for mates for my kids, I know) and is a delight to be around. I suspect that the asking about schooling part is because she is hoping to find an SPU grad so she can put her fundraising skills to good use.
We'll leave soon for the hospital. Today is a rest day, as are many yet to come. Thanks to all who are taking an interest in this kind person. She is amazed at all the "hits" far and wide on this blog.
Steve here.
Renee and I are at home, while Danny the Champion of the World took care of ministering to Gabrielle. So far, he reports she is in good spirits this morning, but doesn't think she will be up for visitors today. So all you kind people viewing from places far and wide (some as far as Europe) don't need to hop on the Concorde just yet.
No medical updates, but a couple of quick stories.
The first has to do with that little uterus pin I alluded to yesterday. I guess you find it at http://iheartguts.com/ No, this isn't a commercial and I don't get royalties. The kids pointed out that I caught Dr. M. by surprise when I told her that (embarrasingly this is an exact quote from me, not one of my finer interactions with a doctor), "I love your assistant's uterus." Kids were quick to point out that I meant her uterus pin, her uterus pin! Good thing she wasn't a breast surgeon.
On another note, I don't know if this is a true story or even if I have the person right, but if it isn't, it ought to be:
The great missionary to China, Hudson Taylor once walked in to a classroom of future missionaries with a glass of water in his hand. He put it down on the desk and then slammed his fist hard on the table, causing the contents to spill all over the place. He then said to the students, "Your life is like this glass of water. When it is shaken, what is inside comes out." I know I am not saying it exactly right, but you get the point.
All that to say that Gabrielle's life has been shaken this week like never before. Through it all, what has been shaken has come out: kindness, joy, patience, strength. I have never been more proud of her than I have this week. Not once has an angry word crossed her lips. She doesn't complain (other than about the sandpaper that passes for Kleenex at the hospital) and has been what I consider to be a model patient. Yesterday's anesthesiologist came out and told me that it was "an honor to be working with such a patient". You don't hear doctors say that every day. Gabrielle is cheerful and upbeat to the nurses, wanting to make sure she pronounces their names correctly, asks them where they went to school, if they are married (OK, so she is trolling for mates for my kids, I know) and is a delight to be around. I suspect that the asking about schooling part is because she is hoping to find an SPU grad so she can put her fundraising skills to good use.
We'll leave soon for the hospital. Today is a rest day, as are many yet to come. Thanks to all who are taking an interest in this kind person. She is amazed at all the "hits" far and wide on this blog.
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