Two days ago, on a wednesday afternoon around 2pm, right in front of me, Mom had a stroke. In fact- she had two. One is quite small, at the base of her brain stem in an area of the brain called the "pons" and the other is a bit larger in an area called the Cerebellum. A stoke- for those of you that don't know- as I did not until yesterday afternoon, is when an area of the brain does not get enough blood and it damages the tissue... this can cause several side effects. Mom was quite dehydrated from some vomiting and diarrhea over the past couple of days, and as a result of her chemo treatment the doctor thinks her blood was "sticky" (thats actually the term he used- "sticky blood" its a extremely medical term)... and he thinks that the sticky blood and the dehydration caused a small blockage, and ultimately a stoke.
Before I go on, I need you to know it was a minor stroke, and the doctors do expect a full recovery in time. How long- well, that is the question at this point. Lets just say cancer treatment is on the back burner for a little while.
So, what happened. In short- she took two pain killers accidentally the night before. Normally she takes one, she took two. Not one single doctor thinks this is the cause of the stroke, but I know that it played part in furthering her dehydration, Because when she woke up on wed she was unusually groggy. Now, dad and i figured it was the double dose of pain killers and assumed she would sleep it off. Also she threw up a few times this week, (a first for us in our experience with chemo). And she was having diarrhea, so she was really really dehydrated to start. She ate a good dinner on tuesday night and I was expecting a good day on wed. But when she couldn't come out of the drug haze she was in- I couldn't get her to eat or drink, and anything she did get down she threw up. So I went across the st to get some pedialight (children's electro-light drink) and some may-lox to calm her stomach.
She hated the pedilight, but took a small sip of the may-lox and about 1 minute later said, "I feel drugged, ooh I feel weird" I sat with her, thinking this too would pass, and then something changed. Her face went slack, she told me she couldn't hear anything, she said her arms were tingling, and that her whole right side of the body was numb, and that now it was really loud... her speech was slurred as she asked me "what was that banging?"
Obviously I called 911, and dad who had gone for a meeting a few blocks away (he and I thought we might go back to work this week). He just stood up in the middle of the meeting, said, "I have to go" and walked out. (i love that image...)
Now then. It was pretty apparent that something was very wrong when I got her to the ER. (by the way- ride to Cedars from Santa Monica on a wed afternoon at 2:30 in crazy traffic in the ambulance.... passing all the cars- highlight of the year for me, seriously awesome... you got to get your thrills where you can these days).
The first hour is the ER was understandably scary, in my experience ER's involve long waits, no time with doctors sitting in uncomfortable waiting rooms. Not this time. We got in a room immediately and there was a cacophony of activity, doctors, nurses, chest Xray in the first 5 minutes, the ER doctor talking to me in the first 10, she was whisked off to get a cat scan of the brain... "could be a brain tumor, "could be hemorrhaging in the brain, "does she have a living will? "Who has power of attorney?" And classically, our Oncologist at Cedars is out of the country for two weeks. So they sent us the guy who was covering his case- an absolute sweet heart who came and SAT WITH US, no joke, FOR AN HOUR in the ER. I have never seen anything like it in all my life. He explained what was happening, what our options were depending on what we find on the cat scan, and then waited with us to get the cat scan results. It was UNBELIEVABLE. Its why Cedars has the reputation it does... cus the doctors and staff there are the best in the country. (apologies to all our friends that are doctors who are reading this- your real good too...)
So then the cat scan comes back, and there is nothing there. Oh my god. No tumor, no hemorrhaging, no stroke.
So they admit us, because something is definitely wrong. Mom is still numb on one side of the body, she has body tremors (like when you have Parkinson's), her eyes cannot focus on one thing and she has double vision, she can't really move herself around too well, and the banging noise in her head is still really loud.
Our neurologist (a man I was planning on making an appointment with anyway to help work on her neck at the end of chemo) Dr Cohen, came in and after evaluating her, suspected she in fact DID have a stoke- albeit a minor one. We did the MRI on Thursday and it confirmed what he believed, and told him something he wasn't expecting.
The numbness, the wobbly-unfocused eyes, the slack face, the slurred speech - that was all due to the stroke in the Pons, but the much larger one in the Cerebellum, which could have presented a lot more conditions, and had not, was only giving her the tremors, and that would mean we would have to work on her balance, as that is the area of the brain that that effects.
Dr Cohen was very confident that she would get better, that all these symptoms could be solved with Rehab.
And so that brings us to today. Mom will be undergoing major rehab over the next few weeks (months? we don't know). And where and how we get it is what is next to figure out. There are several options: At cedars, just upstairs from our room lies one of the best Rehab centers in the world that has a year long waiting list- we can bypass that list and get checked in if she is deemed strong enough to be a candidate. Then there is the option that we go home and rehab comes to us, and finally there is the one where we go home and go to rehab. Obviously I'd love to stay in hospital for a week or two and then go home... but we will just see what happens.
We are expecting that the a team of rehabbers will descend on us today- from swallowing, to optometry, to occupational, to speech.
And in the middle of all of this mess is my mom. Who is still all there. She can talk, she can cover one eye and see me, she says, "is dad crying? go give him a kiss" she says- "all i have to do is physical therapy? Well shit, I CAN DO THAT. I've been wanting to do that, lets start now"
I don't know from where it comes, but her inner strength, and her positivity are more alive then ever right now. It actually inspiring. There she lies, unable to feed herself, or take herself to the bathroom and she is telling me things like "make sure to tell Judi (a friend with a newborn) that Carter was colicky, and it's hard, my heart goes out to her, but tell her to use the magic position I showed her... it will work". And I think- how the hell can you still be so present and generous and wise from this hospital bed. But she is.... And she says, "Are you gonna write an email? Oh i wish you didn't have to tell everyone bad news..."
In fact, the first thing she said to me when we got in our room was, "Draw the room Chase, I want to see where I am... what's behind me"
And even tough its just a wall behind her, and even though I think she should be looking ahead and not behind, I draw the map, and we hold her hand, and we feed her anything she wants (she DOES have her appetite back which is great) and we talk to her, and we call her one-eyed-willy and tell her take up golf cuz she's got one hell of a stroke... and she smiles and tells us its OK. That she, is OK.
I mean, she's a mess. But she's ok.
So I don't know where that leaves us. I mean. Ok, so it was a mild stroke. But a stroke is still a stroke and it is incredible scary and so so jarring to watch. I look at her now and wonder how is it possible that you could EVER be normal again, but you can see in her eyes that she will, and she can, and it's fucking wild.
its just wild.
But there IS improvement- already. Her voice is stronger, her hands are steadier, her eyes are more focused.... if her speech is any indication of her speed of recovery- then we are in good shape. She is visibly better than when we brought her in two days ago... and that is everything that we are hanging onto now. That is the definition of hope. And it's such an amazing thing to witness and be a part of... what a ride.
So this is a set back to be sure, and unfair one, and unwelcome one and a totally BRUTAL one. But thats why we are a team... and that's why it takes all of us. So muster up that mojo. Send ye light, love prayers, gongs, whatever you got. And for those that have bracelets- PUT EM ON. And for those of you that don't... I will get them to you- they are in the mail....
And, I would also like to add, if you would like to talk to us, for right now please just email. That is probably the most efficient way to reach us at this time. I will keep you updated at every turn. And will do everything to keep you all in the loop.
Team Carter will Survive.
Every single Day.
So thank you for all the continued support. The fight just got harder- but what the fuck... ain't worth doing if it doesn't take all you got...
SO.
Lots of love
And, as always,
until next time,
we will remain
Team Carter
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