We Have a Room!

Okay, so I still haven't seen her yet. In fact, I am not sure when she will be joining me in her teeny tiny closet, er, I mean hospital room. She is in room 480 East. The direct phone is 1 801 357 5480. The phone number to the hospital is 801 357 7850. I doubt if she will be up to taking your phone calls until a little later tonight though. She is almost right next to the nurses station. She's close enough that if she loses her nurse button she could just yell. She just arrived. I will post more later.

Off to Recovery-

Dr. Jackson just came out to speak with me. He says she is now "bionic"! He finished the operation successfully and they are finishing up getting the bandages on her right now. He says she will be off to recovery in a matter of minutes. They will keep her there for one to two hours and then find her a room. The knee replacement is so traumatic that they keep those patients in the recovery longer than they would for other procedures. That's okay with me, because it gives her more time to puke on them instead of me. The first 24-36 hours following this surgery, they do a nerve block to help manage the acute pain. Dr. Jackson said she should be pretty happy as far as pain managment goes, until that wears off. She will be in the hospital until Friday or Saturday and then it's home to Rita's Rehab Facility. Maybe I'll even let her borrow my mantra for a while- she can do this....she can do this....she can do this.....she can do this....she can do this...

Half Way Baby!!

Nurse Connie just graced me with her presence! She says they have finished with the left leg and began working on the right one at approximately 9:45. If the left is any indication, she should have another hour and fifteen minutes in surgery, then off to the recovery room (where I hope she will get all the vomiting she needs to do out of her system)! As of right now, she does not have a room assignment. I think they will try to find a space for her after she comes out of the O.R. Guess that means that I am stuck sitting in the waiting room with these strangers whose faces are becoming increasingly familiar to me. Does it make me a baby to say that I wish my dad were here to help me with this? All of the people in this room have someone with them. Someone to talk to- Someone to keep their spirits up- Someone to share the responsibility with- Here I sit and wait alone, (not that my kids wouldn't have loved to come with me- they would have, but it is not the same) eagerly waiting for the tiny bits of information they offer me every so often, watching the seconds hand pass on the clock. Let me just start to repeat my all too familiar mantra... I can do this.... I can do this.... I can do this..... I can do this.... I can do this....

Update Numero Uno

Ask and ye shall receive.... I asked to know something, anything, and Connie the liaison nurse showed up within minutes to update everyone in the waiting area. Apparently, the surgery began shortly before 8:00. They are working on her left leg right now. The total knee replacement can take anywhere from one to one and a half hours per leg (on average). Upon completion of the first knee, they have to remove everything from the OR and replace it with sterile equipment. That creates a lag time of 15-30 minutes between legs.
In lay man's terms, 50 minutes down, 2-3 hours to go. So far, so good. Connie says she will let me know when they finish the first knee. Can't wait....

...And We're Ready For Take-Off...

Here we go.... the journey to Claudia's new knees has begun. The kids and I spent the night at my mom's last night, so she and I could get up and make it to the hospital by 5:30 a.m. this morning. For those of you who are interested, we didn't make it. We were 10 minutes late, which the check in nurse was only too happy to remind of us when we arrived. My mom got her fashionable, blue bracelet and we sat down to wait. After the small fit about our tardiness, we fully expected that she would be whisked back to pre-op immediately, but no. We waited a good 20-30 minutes before my cell phone rang. That's how they do it these days... instead of walking out to the waiting room and calling your name, the nurse stays at her station and gives you a call. I just got a new phone Saturday, and couldn't figure out how to answer it (the ridiculously early hour may have contributed to my confusion) so the lazy nurse had to get up and come get us anyway. We trotted back to the weigh in/ blood pressure station to get the party started. She must have passed because from there we were shuffled down the hall to our very own room. Claudia stripped, put on her lovely blue gown, (to go with the jewelery they had just given her) and climbed into bed. A very kind nurse, named Nadine (just like my grandma) came in to start her IV, give her some meds, and keep her circulation going with snazzy foot pumps. She, was apparently a bit more skilled than the nurse my mom had on Friday, (for her clot filter procedure) because the IV went in easy as 1-2-3 on the first try (she was super happy about that since she looks like they used as a pincushion last time). Nadine left us alone, and we made stupid small talk... the kids this, and the kids that, instead of me telling her that I love her and need her, so she would know in case something were to happen. I don't know why I am such an emotional retard. I think I would tell her if I could go back and do it again. The incredibly handsome male nurse, Brigham, came to take her away to "holding", (which she said makes her sound like she's cattle,) where she was to hang out with her anesthesiologist until her surgery started at 7:30. I was redirected to the surgery waiting area. When I got here, there was one other person, now it is almost overflowing. Some in here are sullen, with worry lines creasing their faces, and others are joking, playing their game systems and eating greasy McDonalds take-out. I wonder where I fit in this room... Can these strangers see the panic I'm feeling written across my face like a cheap paperback novel? Know what stupid thing I said to my mother as they wheeled her away?!? "Be good Mom. Don't give 'em too much trouble." Why didn't I say I love you? Why didn't I remind her to come back to me in a few hours? What if something bad happens, and the last thing I got to say was "Be good"? Will I be able to live with myself? In case you can't tell, I have a lot of angst about this surgery. She is excited, and happy, and not nervous at all. I am nervous enough for the both of us. It is now 8:20. Nearly an hour since they started. I have not heard any updates yet. Nadine told me to call if they don't update me by 9:30. Only an hour to go until they can tell me something... anything...

We've Had Better Days....

Yesterday, as I was in the middle of a haircut, Corbin walked in with sweat and tears pouring off of his face. He looked at me and said "Mom, I fell off my bike. I think my arm is broken." I was busy, but I looked it over real quick, and thinking it was fine, sent him upstairs to put some ice on it. I went back to work, joking with my client (who came all the way from West Virginia to get her hair done) about how every time there is any pain, something must be broken. About a half hour later, as I was finishing up with her, Averie walked in. She told me that she had just put Corbin's bike away and that it was a royal pain because the front tire wouldn't spin. She said that whatever Corbin had done ruined his bike. That was about the time the little alarm bell went off in my head.... If Corbin had crashed hard enough to destroy his bike, maybe he really had done some damage to himself as well. I hurried my client (Amber) out the door, and ran upstairs to assess the damages. Corbin sat calmly, quietly whimpering, on the couch with ice on his arm, patiently waiting for me. To put it mildly, he was a mess. His face was still red and beaded with sweat, his knees were hamburger and had been bleeding down his legs, blood puddling in his socks, the bottom two inches of his shorts were also soaked in blood, his shoe was ripped from the ankle to the sole, one of his hands was scrapped up, and his arm hurt to touch, twist, or move. I took one look at him and called the doctor to let them know we were on our way and that Corbin had a possible break. Vicki (Dr. Wynn's nurse) had a room ready for us and took us back to it as soon as we arrived. She and I began cleaning Corbin up while we waited for Dr. Wynn. We scrubbed the blood from his legs, took off his socks (they were pretty gross), wiped off his hands, and she flushed his knees with a saline solution (THAT WAS PAINFUL). Dr. Wynn came in and removed a rock or two from under the skin on his hand. He then started to poke and prod around on his arm. It didn't take long before Corbin was in a LOT of pain and NOT happy about being touched. Dr. Wynn said that he felt there was a GOOD chance that his arm was broken and that we needed to get X-rays and go from there. At that time his plan was to splint it and send us to the hospital, then have us wait a day to get into an orthopedic for casting if necessary. He got the splint out and started wrapping his arm, but something made him change his mind. I don't know what, or why, but he put the splint down and said he wanted to contact the orthopedic doctor right then. He placed the phone call and came back announcing that if we hurried the doctor would wait for us and fix Corbin up immediately. He drew me a pitiful map to the next doctor's office on the crinkle paper that covers their tables, and we flew out of there, in a rush to the ortho's. After minimal searching, (thanks to the map) we found the next office, where they were actually waiting for us. Corbin went with the nurse and had X-rays, while I waited for him filling out the paperwork. He said that the X-rays hurt quite a bit, since he had to twist his arm and put it in uncomfortable positions. Dr. Barker came right in, flipped on his screen and ...... couldn't find Corbin's X-ray. Somehow, it had gotten lost in cyberspace. He checked a few other computers and relocated it- YEAH!!! He looked at it for a split second and said the dreaded words: This arm is fractured up through the growth plate. UGH!!! Did you say growth plate?!? That puts a whole new spin on things. That is more serious- more concerning- more worrisome- more SUCKISH!!! I took a deep breath and said let's start over. What EXACTLY is the story with my son's arm? Apparently, Corbin fractured (broke) his radius bone from about an inch above his wrist, on a slant going up towards his hand, up through the growth plate and out the other side. The break is all the way through the bone and through the growth plate. When there is a break involving the infamous growth plate, the break gets a rating on a scale of 1-5, one being the best, five being the worst. Corbin's break scored a 2. Could be worse... Could be better.... As of right now, the break is okay. It is lined up nicely and didn't need to be set or manipulated at all. Because of the kind of break that it is, his bone could displace at any time during the next three weeks (that's how long it will take to set up and get sticky enough to stay put) even inside the cast (which is a lovely shade of blue). If that happens, he will probably require surgery to put things right. Also, because of the stupid growth plate involvement, we will have to monitor that closely to make certain it heals properly. Once all of those factors are taken into consideration, Corbin becomes the winner of weekly X-rays and doctor visits, for the next little while. Oh joy! The best part of all of this, is that we have a trip to Disneyland and the beach planned (and payed for) in 9 days. We tried to talk the Dr. Barker into a waterproof cast for the vacay, but it was a no go. The waterproof variety apparently does not offer enough support for our particular, special kind of break. Poor Corbin will get to watch while his brother and sister happily swim in the hotel pool. He will get to wrap his arm in plastic when we go to the beach, and he can kiss goodbye his plans of body surfing in the ocean. I think we (ESPECIALLY CORBIN) have had better days.....

Gracie Jean Gledhill www.thegledhillfamily.blogspot.com

I just can't get over this. I am so sad today as I think of my friends the Gledhills. Michelle is a former client of mine. We were in the same ward and neighborhood for a while. 11 months ago, they welcomed their fourth child- a beautiful, brave, baby girl named Gracie. Gracie had HLHS, a heart defect, that would require multiple surgeries to keep her alive. She had her first surgery at 3 days old. What was to be an easy, routine surgery (as easy and routine as open heart surgery can get anyway) turned into a nightmare when Gracie flat lined. She was kept alive on life support for the next 9 days. Her family was told to say their goodbyes ever and over, only to be teased with with glimpses of hope. When they took her off of it, she literally rewrote the medical books by surviving. Apparently, after about 7 days on the ECMO (life support) machine, the situation is fairly hopeless. Sweet Gracie, defied the odds. She was able to recover enough to go home and gain weight for her next surgery (not an easy task since she was unable to keep food down). Last fall, when it was time for the second surgery, her heart wasn't healthy enough to endure the repairs she needed. Instead, they put in a stint to help bring her pressures down and get her heart healthy enough for the surgery to come. Eventually, as they were waiting, her heart began to fail. Her fingers and toes were turning blue. Her pressures dropped so low that she sustained some brain damage (she lost the use of her left arm and left leg). The doctors determined she couldn't wait any longer, but she couldn't survive the surgery either. Gracie was listed at the top of the heart transplant list to save her life. I can't even begin to detail all of the struggles that went along with that- her antibodies, the insurance, etc. After a short three day wait, the Gledhills got the news that would change their lives. Gracie was getting a heart! The joy was to be short lived. When the left ventricle was unclamped, it was obvious there was a problem. Her parents were told that her heart was in rejection. After further testing, it was revealed that it wasn't her at all. They transplanted a bad heart into her tiny body. She was put back on the ECMO (life support) machine, and re-listed for another heart. She had some pretty heavy bleeding that the doctors were struggling to control. At one point, the doctors were prepared to switch out her bad heart for a Berlin Heart (artificial) which would be used purely to buy her time until another heart could be found. The Berlin Heart isn't approved in the US yet, so to do this, they needed to fly in the Berlin Heart team from Canada (I think). When the team reviewed her situation, they said it was simply too risky. They were certain that Gracie could not survive another procedure, and that she would never be able to survive off of the ECMO. In a week's time, my poor friends went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. They went from thinking Gracie's life would be forever changed for the better, to realizing that they had to let her go. Gracie Jean Gledhill was taken off of life support last Monday, March 2, 2009, and returned to her Father in Heaven. Her viewing is today, and her funeral tomorrow. I know that her family can use all of the prayers they can get during this difficult time. I am asking that any and all who read this, pray for the Gledhill family. Keep them in mind in the next little while, because they will need all of the prayers they can get. Feel free to check out Gracie's blog. It is worth your time- trust me. It is a detailed account of her journey and battle to the end. What a precious little girl she was! What a blessing she has been to her family! What a miracle her short has been! I will be forever changed by the example of this great family. http://www.thegledhillfamily.blogspot.com/ or just link to it from my blog "Baby Gracie".