Long Absence and an Uncertain Future
2018 started so well. And then it went to hell pretty quickly. I was in the final throes of dissertation writing. It was a stressful time trying to get everything finished and knowing it had to get finished no later than early April. Finally, a defense date was decided - April 20 - and my flights were booked. I had been planning a trip with Mom, but we couldn't decide where we wanted to go. We just wanted to get away and enjoy each other's company. We invited Andrea to join us and we were looking forward to it.
Then in early March, I gave Mom a call on a Sunday morning. She sounded breathless. She kept poo-pooing it. I told her to call my brother and get to the hospital, but she kept saying she was going to try and see a doctor in the coming week. Annoyed that she wasn't listening to me, I did the only thing I could think of: I yelled at her. I told her to get to the hospital. She was so startled by my reaction that she did exactly that.
And that's when the downhill motion began.
At first, they diagnosed Mom with congestive heart failure. The shortness of breath was due to a large amount of fluid building up in her chest. They put her on a diuretic, which immediately helped. Her heart also wasn't beating as strongly as they hoped, so they talked of putting in a pacemaker. But first they wanted to get rid of all the fluid. They were going to discharge her, but one of the final tests came up sketchy. They decided to do a scan. Lo and behold, Mom had a large thoracic aneurysm! The aneurysm was pushing against the back of her heart, which was why she was having trouble.
The doctor transferred Mom to a hospital in Daytona Beach to go under the care of a top-notch cardiologist. Mom did well in the hospital, though she HATED the food and the decaffeinated coffee that she insisted was brown water. The doctor wanted her to regain some strength before he did the procedure to correct the aneurysm. But then, because she was on a heart monitor 24/7, they discovered that her heart would stop beating for a few seconds when she was asleep. She was fit with a pacemaker.
She had that procedure and then a cardiac catheterization over the course of two days. She came through both beautifully. Her arteries were fairly clear, which was a relief. She had only about 15% blocked. She was discharged with orders to return to for her surgery on March 27, in about ten days. Mom was thrilled to be home and looking forward to having the surgery and getting on with her life.
The day of her surgery came. I had been talking to Mom pretty much daily, despite my own harried writing schedule. I insisted that she call me before she went to the hospital. I wanted to just have a chat with her beforehand and makes sure she wasn't overly nervous. You see, Mom and I emailed daily (often several emails a day) and I noticed that your signing off was a bit different. Instead of just saying "Love you, Mom," she would write, "I love you, Deanne" or "I love you to pieces." So I reckoned she was sensing her mortality, as it were, and may need a bit of comfort. Plus, I wanted to make sure Mom gave her surgeon my phone number with instructions to keep me in the loop. I was not in the loop during her first hospital trip and my brother was not good at all with keeping me informed. I didn't want to go through that again.
After talking for a few minutes, Mom promised she'd tell her surgeon and she ended the call with "I love you, Deanne."
The surgeon did call me before the surgery and assured me that it would be very "straight forward." Mom had no anatomical issues to cause problems. The surgical nurse called me during the surgery. I could hear the heart monitor in the background - my Mom's heartbeat. There was a complication but she wouldn't say what it was. A few hours later, the surgeon called and said that Mom had "thrown" a chunk of calcium and it had blocked her aorta. He said he had never seen such a thing and, with time running out, he opted to do a bypass. Mom was being airlifted to UF Health to have it repaired.
It wasn't until the UF surgeon called me that I learned the original surgeon had lied through his teeth. Mom didn't throw any calcium, the stent graph he was using (a device made by Bolton Medical) had failed to deploy properly. The doctor was unable to get the device back out and it was THAT that had blocked Mom's aorta. The device by Bolton Medical had literally broken inside my mother!
Mom was scheduled for surgery the next day. She was in stable condition. Her vitals were strong. The doctor told me she was going to do an open surgery (the previous one was through the femoral artery) in order to first retrieve the broken device, then repair the aorta and the aneurysm. Now, by it being an open surgery the risk of stroke increases significantly. So there was that worry. But the doctor called after the surgery was finished and told me it went as well as it possibly could. Everything went smoothly. Mom's vitals were strong and remained so throughout the surgery. She was in recovery and the doctor was cautiously optimistic that Mom would be fine. I was so relieved.
At around 1:30 in the morning, my cell phone rang. It was a doctor at UF Health. Mom was in ICU (expected after the surgery) and during the regular rounds of checks, the nurse discovered that her pupils had blown. The moment the doctor said that, my heart sank. That meant a brain bleed. He said he was very sorry and hated to give me such news on the phone, but Mom was not expected to survive. Her brain function was barely above minimum. He asked if I was going to be able to come see Mom. I explained that I was in Scotland. I HAD tried to change my travel arrangements, but I simply couldn't afford what Delta wanted to charge to make the changes. Now, I would never see my mother again.
Mom was on life support, but I knew she would not want that. She did not have time to record a living will with the hospital, so my brother and I had to decide what to do. As much as it hurt, I told them that she needed to get to Dad. On March 29, 2018, at around 3 p.m. Eastern time, Mom passed away. A nurse called to tell me. She said that she and another nurse stayed with Mom when the life support was stopped so she wouldn't be alone. Mom passed within a few minutes.
I'm still adjusting to my world without Mom. I did finish my writing. I flew to the States and successfully defended my dissertation on schedule. Steve flew over and met me in Florida to help sort Mom's will. There are some final bits to do with that, but I'm hopeful it will all be completed before the end of the year.
The big issue for me is that this blog was mostly written for Mom. She loved seeing the photos and, as she would say, travel the world without leaving her office. My main audience is gone, so it's really difficult for me to figure out what I want to do. Do I continue blogging? *shrug* I just don't know. And what's funny is that chances are no one will read this. But I wrote it anyway.
I love you, Mom. And miss you so very much.
Then in early March, I gave Mom a call on a Sunday morning. She sounded breathless. She kept poo-pooing it. I told her to call my brother and get to the hospital, but she kept saying she was going to try and see a doctor in the coming week. Annoyed that she wasn't listening to me, I did the only thing I could think of: I yelled at her. I told her to get to the hospital. She was so startled by my reaction that she did exactly that.
And that's when the downhill motion began.
At first, they diagnosed Mom with congestive heart failure. The shortness of breath was due to a large amount of fluid building up in her chest. They put her on a diuretic, which immediately helped. Her heart also wasn't beating as strongly as they hoped, so they talked of putting in a pacemaker. But first they wanted to get rid of all the fluid. They were going to discharge her, but one of the final tests came up sketchy. They decided to do a scan. Lo and behold, Mom had a large thoracic aneurysm! The aneurysm was pushing against the back of her heart, which was why she was having trouble.
The doctor transferred Mom to a hospital in Daytona Beach to go under the care of a top-notch cardiologist. Mom did well in the hospital, though she HATED the food and the decaffeinated coffee that she insisted was brown water. The doctor wanted her to regain some strength before he did the procedure to correct the aneurysm. But then, because she was on a heart monitor 24/7, they discovered that her heart would stop beating for a few seconds when she was asleep. She was fit with a pacemaker.
She had that procedure and then a cardiac catheterization over the course of two days. She came through both beautifully. Her arteries were fairly clear, which was a relief. She had only about 15% blocked. She was discharged with orders to return to for her surgery on March 27, in about ten days. Mom was thrilled to be home and looking forward to having the surgery and getting on with her life.
The day of her surgery came. I had been talking to Mom pretty much daily, despite my own harried writing schedule. I insisted that she call me before she went to the hospital. I wanted to just have a chat with her beforehand and makes sure she wasn't overly nervous. You see, Mom and I emailed daily (often several emails a day) and I noticed that your signing off was a bit different. Instead of just saying "Love you, Mom," she would write, "I love you, Deanne" or "I love you to pieces." So I reckoned she was sensing her mortality, as it were, and may need a bit of comfort. Plus, I wanted to make sure Mom gave her surgeon my phone number with instructions to keep me in the loop. I was not in the loop during her first hospital trip and my brother was not good at all with keeping me informed. I didn't want to go through that again.
After talking for a few minutes, Mom promised she'd tell her surgeon and she ended the call with "I love you, Deanne."
The surgeon did call me before the surgery and assured me that it would be very "straight forward." Mom had no anatomical issues to cause problems. The surgical nurse called me during the surgery. I could hear the heart monitor in the background - my Mom's heartbeat. There was a complication but she wouldn't say what it was. A few hours later, the surgeon called and said that Mom had "thrown" a chunk of calcium and it had blocked her aorta. He said he had never seen such a thing and, with time running out, he opted to do a bypass. Mom was being airlifted to UF Health to have it repaired.
It wasn't until the UF surgeon called me that I learned the original surgeon had lied through his teeth. Mom didn't throw any calcium, the stent graph he was using (a device made by Bolton Medical) had failed to deploy properly. The doctor was unable to get the device back out and it was THAT that had blocked Mom's aorta. The device by Bolton Medical had literally broken inside my mother!
Mom was scheduled for surgery the next day. She was in stable condition. Her vitals were strong. The doctor told me she was going to do an open surgery (the previous one was through the femoral artery) in order to first retrieve the broken device, then repair the aorta and the aneurysm. Now, by it being an open surgery the risk of stroke increases significantly. So there was that worry. But the doctor called after the surgery was finished and told me it went as well as it possibly could. Everything went smoothly. Mom's vitals were strong and remained so throughout the surgery. She was in recovery and the doctor was cautiously optimistic that Mom would be fine. I was so relieved.
At around 1:30 in the morning, my cell phone rang. It was a doctor at UF Health. Mom was in ICU (expected after the surgery) and during the regular rounds of checks, the nurse discovered that her pupils had blown. The moment the doctor said that, my heart sank. That meant a brain bleed. He said he was very sorry and hated to give me such news on the phone, but Mom was not expected to survive. Her brain function was barely above minimum. He asked if I was going to be able to come see Mom. I explained that I was in Scotland. I HAD tried to change my travel arrangements, but I simply couldn't afford what Delta wanted to charge to make the changes. Now, I would never see my mother again.
Mom was on life support, but I knew she would not want that. She did not have time to record a living will with the hospital, so my brother and I had to decide what to do. As much as it hurt, I told them that she needed to get to Dad. On March 29, 2018, at around 3 p.m. Eastern time, Mom passed away. A nurse called to tell me. She said that she and another nurse stayed with Mom when the life support was stopped so she wouldn't be alone. Mom passed within a few minutes.
I'm still adjusting to my world without Mom. I did finish my writing. I flew to the States and successfully defended my dissertation on schedule. Steve flew over and met me in Florida to help sort Mom's will. There are some final bits to do with that, but I'm hopeful it will all be completed before the end of the year.
The big issue for me is that this blog was mostly written for Mom. She loved seeing the photos and, as she would say, travel the world without leaving her office. My main audience is gone, so it's really difficult for me to figure out what I want to do. Do I continue blogging? *shrug* I just don't know. And what's funny is that chances are no one will read this. But I wrote it anyway.
I love you, Mom. And miss you so very much.
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