Atherothrombosis and the Ladybug
Once upon a time there was a Scottish Meadow. Although Winter had come to predominate amongst those courting Meadow, the other seasons still visited, especially Spring with her laughter and endless horizons and gifts of heather in the salted air.
Slowly and quietly over the many visits by the seasons to Meadow, two quiet enemies took up residence in the warm flow of Meadow's brooks and streams. There they stayed, quietly doing their insidious work -- blind to all other tasks and even to each other, they dedicated themselves to choking closed the arterial flow of Meadow's thirst quenching and vibrancy giving waters.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My mother had a stroke. It started a week ago this past weekend and culminated with an early, last-week call to 911. This somehow sums up my mother: she refused to go anywhere in the ambulance (or "truck" as the law enforcement types I'm surrounded by in my family like to call them). That was mistake number two. In actual fact my mother had two strokes. The "chills" and feelings like a very sudden cold were coming on... the not having any understanding that it could be a stroke would be the first error. Blunder number one was not my mother's, but that of her doctor as she was not informed by the ancient small-town-medicine doctor of hers that her symptoms were key signs of a stroke, especially in a woman -- and my mother has had at least two small strokes in the past which prompted her doctor to expend what energy, I know not. [We discovered that my mother's daily intake of aspirin -- which the neurosurgeon said was a good idea but stronge drugs that do the same thing would have been a better idea -- was actually not prescribed by my mother's family physican, but at my older brother's suggestion!!!]
The second error came in the aftermath of her waking to pain and finding herself partially blind, a couple of days after the "chills." In refusing to get in the ambulance she effectively ended any chance of getting well proven intervention, but intervention that can only be administered within the first three hours after the onset of the stroke. A stroke protocol hospital is 40 minutes from where she lives. "I didn't want to get up on that big thing, how silly!" The "big thing" being the ambulance gurney. [Apparently she said the same thing to my father on their honeymoon -- but I digress and shall die a hell-bound death for that...]
In any event, she finally called my older brother ("old father" as my mother calls him), she was taken to a nearby hospital and eventuallly put in an ambulance and taken to university hospital in London, Ontario where she has been since last Tuesday. She cannot see on the right side of her world, she has moments of deep confusion (but is otherwise doing VERY well in terms of speech and cognition), and she has considerable weakness on the right side arm and leg -- both of which, however, she is using; walking with assistance and eating and drinking wtih the affected arm and hand.
As with everything in my life there is irony. My mother suffered an ishemic stroke in which a blood vessel becomes blocked restricting blood flow to the brain. The irony is that a blood clot broke free from the heart and began its way to her brain to end her life or do a hell of a lot worse than she suffered, BUT on the way it got caught on considerable plaque build up (itself a precursor to a stroke) on one of the four main arteries in the human neck and which feed the brain. So while the plaque was taking its own time in shutting down the artery, it acted as a net, grabbing the clot. I can't think of that without picturing jealous plaque grabbing anxious clotted blood ("no, no, let ME do it!!"). Still the artery is now shut forever. Now we wait, a nerve filled waiting game, hoping the blood clot dissolves with time (as it will do) before any pieces break off and make themselves known in the brain where they will cause havoc.
Well, that was a bit of a technical ramble.
Some humour amidst the dread, as is the way of my family. Me and all of my brothers have been told by one or more of a myriad of health care professionals that, and I'll paraphrase, we are all sarcastic bastards -- then said healthcare types point out they thought it was JUST my mother. Seems she's been yanking their chain a bit.
Anyway, on day two when I was visiting, my mother slept almost the entire time. At one point she awoke and saw me and acknowledged me. As I was trying to help her get comfortable, she was fussing about (seems she was on top of this electrical box about the size of three TV remote controls -- she angrily finally got a hold of it and tossed it to the floor). I asked her what she was doing? "Everyone I can," she replied.
After a speech and neurology test of some sort, the therapist turned to my older brothers and asked for their assessment as they obviously had more experience with my mother than the therapist. Working in tandem and without prior knowledge they expressed confusion at the appearance of a thick Scottish accent, as she (as you should tell from the name)was German. They had the therapist going for a while! For those who have never met my mother, she has the strong remnants of a Paisley (suburb of Glasgow!) accent.
On that first day I saw her, when she was sleeping, I was alone with her and went to give her a wee hug. As I leaned in to kiss her forehead a mega voltage static shock left from my lips and bolted my mother to near awakeness. I was mortified and also almost pissed my pants laughing. I'm amazed the heart monitor didn't belt out it's alarm at the shock.
It is a humbling thing to feed your mother, to take her to the washroom, to chide her to take a drink of water, to watch her eyes cloud into confusion during a conversation...
The most heartening omen is that a ladybug appeared in my mother's hospital room and was there the few days my mother was there, before her move to another unit. My mother loves ladybugs. Forbade us to kill them as kids, would rescue them if found inside and carefully put them outside on a bush, tells a story of collecting ladybugs as a kid and keeping them in a match box (which used to be big) with some grass and then letting them go the next day after their brief stay with her. "Aye, I've seen her--she's checking up on me," my mother said when I pointed out the ladybug.
As a student of English and someone dear to my heart says in less than perfect English syntax, but with perfect warmth: "Many healings" to my mother.
Slowly and quietly over the many visits by the seasons to Meadow, two quiet enemies took up residence in the warm flow of Meadow's brooks and streams. There they stayed, quietly doing their insidious work -- blind to all other tasks and even to each other, they dedicated themselves to choking closed the arterial flow of Meadow's thirst quenching and vibrancy giving waters.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My mother had a stroke. It started a week ago this past weekend and culminated with an early, last-week call to 911. This somehow sums up my mother: she refused to go anywhere in the ambulance (or "truck" as the law enforcement types I'm surrounded by in my family like to call them). That was mistake number two. In actual fact my mother had two strokes. The "chills" and feelings like a very sudden cold were coming on... the not having any understanding that it could be a stroke would be the first error. Blunder number one was not my mother's, but that of her doctor as she was not informed by the ancient small-town-medicine doctor of hers that her symptoms were key signs of a stroke, especially in a woman -- and my mother has had at least two small strokes in the past which prompted her doctor to expend what energy, I know not. [We discovered that my mother's daily intake of aspirin -- which the neurosurgeon said was a good idea but stronge drugs that do the same thing would have been a better idea -- was actually not prescribed by my mother's family physican, but at my older brother's suggestion!!!]
The second error came in the aftermath of her waking to pain and finding herself partially blind, a couple of days after the "chills." In refusing to get in the ambulance she effectively ended any chance of getting well proven intervention, but intervention that can only be administered within the first three hours after the onset of the stroke. A stroke protocol hospital is 40 minutes from where she lives. "I didn't want to get up on that big thing, how silly!" The "big thing" being the ambulance gurney. [Apparently she said the same thing to my father on their honeymoon -- but I digress and shall die a hell-bound death for that...]
In any event, she finally called my older brother ("old father" as my mother calls him), she was taken to a nearby hospital and eventuallly put in an ambulance and taken to university hospital in London, Ontario where she has been since last Tuesday. She cannot see on the right side of her world, she has moments of deep confusion (but is otherwise doing VERY well in terms of speech and cognition), and she has considerable weakness on the right side arm and leg -- both of which, however, she is using; walking with assistance and eating and drinking wtih the affected arm and hand.
As with everything in my life there is irony. My mother suffered an ishemic stroke in which a blood vessel becomes blocked restricting blood flow to the brain. The irony is that a blood clot broke free from the heart and began its way to her brain to end her life or do a hell of a lot worse than she suffered, BUT on the way it got caught on considerable plaque build up (itself a precursor to a stroke) on one of the four main arteries in the human neck and which feed the brain. So while the plaque was taking its own time in shutting down the artery, it acted as a net, grabbing the clot. I can't think of that without picturing jealous plaque grabbing anxious clotted blood ("no, no, let ME do it!!"). Still the artery is now shut forever. Now we wait, a nerve filled waiting game, hoping the blood clot dissolves with time (as it will do) before any pieces break off and make themselves known in the brain where they will cause havoc.
Well, that was a bit of a technical ramble.
Some humour amidst the dread, as is the way of my family. Me and all of my brothers have been told by one or more of a myriad of health care professionals that, and I'll paraphrase, we are all sarcastic bastards -- then said healthcare types point out they thought it was JUST my mother. Seems she's been yanking their chain a bit.
Anyway, on day two when I was visiting, my mother slept almost the entire time. At one point she awoke and saw me and acknowledged me. As I was trying to help her get comfortable, she was fussing about (seems she was on top of this electrical box about the size of three TV remote controls -- she angrily finally got a hold of it and tossed it to the floor). I asked her what she was doing? "Everyone I can," she replied.
After a speech and neurology test of some sort, the therapist turned to my older brothers and asked for their assessment as they obviously had more experience with my mother than the therapist. Working in tandem and without prior knowledge they expressed confusion at the appearance of a thick Scottish accent, as she (as you should tell from the name)was German. They had the therapist going for a while! For those who have never met my mother, she has the strong remnants of a Paisley (suburb of Glasgow!) accent.
On that first day I saw her, when she was sleeping, I was alone with her and went to give her a wee hug. As I leaned in to kiss her forehead a mega voltage static shock left from my lips and bolted my mother to near awakeness. I was mortified and also almost pissed my pants laughing. I'm amazed the heart monitor didn't belt out it's alarm at the shock.
It is a humbling thing to feed your mother, to take her to the washroom, to chide her to take a drink of water, to watch her eyes cloud into confusion during a conversation...
The most heartening omen is that a ladybug appeared in my mother's hospital room and was there the few days my mother was there, before her move to another unit. My mother loves ladybugs. Forbade us to kill them as kids, would rescue them if found inside and carefully put them outside on a bush, tells a story of collecting ladybugs as a kid and keeping them in a match box (which used to be big) with some grass and then letting them go the next day after their brief stay with her. "Aye, I've seen her--she's checking up on me," my mother said when I pointed out the ladybug.
As a student of English and someone dear to my heart says in less than perfect English syntax, but with perfect warmth: "Many healings" to my mother.
posted by Heipel at
5:19 PM
2 Comments:
i hope your mom will be okay soon...and don't forget!!..someone is praying for her everyday!!...
aye, many healings indeed!
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