Yesterday was a tough day for Dad. At home we had to call the paramedics to take Mom to the hospital. (It was very weird to see that truck pull up, see the gurney in the hallway, head to the Jordan Valley ER...deja vu all over again.) Over the last week or so a bad arthritis flare-up in Mom's right knee brought her to the point where she felt she could not walk on it at all. She received a cortisone shot in her knee at the hospital and we are following up with home health care to get her all the help she needs. But of course, as you can imagine Dad was totally worried and feeling helpless all day.
And then we finally had our appointment with an ophthalmologist. After some testing, his determination is that Dad's right optic nerve was damaged so severely during the anoxia he first went through that he will never have vision out of the lower half of his right eye. The doctor is also fairly certain that the anoxia created damage in the vision center of his cerebral cortex which accounts for his "fuzzy" vision right now. He said in these cases they like to give the eyes up to a year to come back from that kind of damage. Because the doctor met Dad in his hospital room instead of his office, he didn't have all the diagnostic tools with him, so to really get to the bottom of things, the doctor will refer Dad to a specialist at the Moran Eye Center in Salt Lake.
So, needless to say it was not the best day for Dad. But after processing all the news of the day, he is still trying to remain hopeful and keep plugging along.
On the plus side, Dad had a lot of visitors yesterday and I know that lifted his spirits. It was particularly nice to see some of his work friends. They were able to talk and joke about stuff that took Dad out of the worries of the day for a few minutes. It was so good to hear him laugh. Many, many thanks to all the friends and family who made yesterday a little easier for him.
It means so much to me that so many of you count on this blog. That lets me know how many people love us and are praying for us. I will do my best to at least post every other day while we are in the middle of so many challenges. Thanks for your patience.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Good, good, good
First, my apologies for not getting anything posted sooner. Here's a handy hint: from here on out assume that if I don't post it's actually good. At this point I'm spending a lot more time with Dad, actively involved in his therapies so we'll know how best to help him when he gets home.
Let me tell you, I don't know if I've seen anyone work harder at getting better than Dad. You should see the look on his face, the set of his chin when, exhausted, he pushes himself one more time to take another step. Today, the PT asked, "Are you ready?" when it came time to go again. "No," he said, "But let's do it!" Similarly, today he struggled to use his special utensils to feed himself his entire plate of lunch. (He can get the utensil from plate to mouth okay, but because he can't see and lacks coordination to hold a plate still in front of him, he needs some assistance to get food from the plate onto his utensil.)
Speech therapy is working on both clarity of speech (which is pretty good unless he's tired) and memory/thinking skills. I am still amazed that all of Dad's memories, personality, and thought processes are completely intact. For me, that's the biggest blessing.
Right now, much of Dad's struggles are centered around his lack of vision (as best as we can tell, he can see shapes and movement and contrast between light and dark colors, but details are fuzzy). Because he is still vision-centric, it's hard for him to process information about things he would normally relate with sight. For example, it's hard to remember different people because he can't put a name with a face (especially with the number of people parading through his room on a daily basis!). His care team is getting him an appointment with a neurological opthamologist who will hopefully be able to let us know what is happening and what might (if anything) be done about it.
Thank you all again for your kindness in thought, prayer, phone, calls, messages, and gifts. In particular, thanks Z&E for the CDs and Leo K. for the spiffy shirts! And please, if you come over and Dad's asleep or out of his room, leave a note so we know you dropped by. (If it's around 5, he's probably in the dining room, and you can just head down the hall and check.) Oh, and when you come to visit, please let Dad know who you are when you come in the door. It's tough for him to feel at a disadvantage and try to guess who you might be out of any number of people.
On a final note, I have to tell you that the sweetest thing happened tonight. Dad, Joe and I were watching the Jazz game together when there was a knock at the door. When I said come in, the door opened and a familiar face peeked in. It was Dad's wonderful physical therapist, Reuben, from UVSH! (Unfortunately his brother-in-law has been in an accident and is a patient at Dad's hospital.) How incredibly sweet of him to come check up on Dad. It's so wonderful to see how Dad has touched the lives of those who have and are helping him heal.
Let me tell you, I don't know if I've seen anyone work harder at getting better than Dad. You should see the look on his face, the set of his chin when, exhausted, he pushes himself one more time to take another step. Today, the PT asked, "Are you ready?" when it came time to go again. "No," he said, "But let's do it!" Similarly, today he struggled to use his special utensils to feed himself his entire plate of lunch. (He can get the utensil from plate to mouth okay, but because he can't see and lacks coordination to hold a plate still in front of him, he needs some assistance to get food from the plate onto his utensil.)
Speech therapy is working on both clarity of speech (which is pretty good unless he's tired) and memory/thinking skills. I am still amazed that all of Dad's memories, personality, and thought processes are completely intact. For me, that's the biggest blessing.
Right now, much of Dad's struggles are centered around his lack of vision (as best as we can tell, he can see shapes and movement and contrast between light and dark colors, but details are fuzzy). Because he is still vision-centric, it's hard for him to process information about things he would normally relate with sight. For example, it's hard to remember different people because he can't put a name with a face (especially with the number of people parading through his room on a daily basis!). His care team is getting him an appointment with a neurological opthamologist who will hopefully be able to let us know what is happening and what might (if anything) be done about it.
Thank you all again for your kindness in thought, prayer, phone, calls, messages, and gifts. In particular, thanks Z&E for the CDs and Leo K. for the spiffy shirts! And please, if you come over and Dad's asleep or out of his room, leave a note so we know you dropped by. (If it's around 5, he's probably in the dining room, and you can just head down the hall and check.) Oh, and when you come to visit, please let Dad know who you are when you come in the door. It's tough for him to feel at a disadvantage and try to guess who you might be out of any number of people.
On a final note, I have to tell you that the sweetest thing happened tonight. Dad, Joe and I were watching the Jazz game together when there was a knock at the door. When I said come in, the door opened and a familiar face peeked in. It was Dad's wonderful physical therapist, Reuben, from UVSH! (Unfortunately his brother-in-law has been in an accident and is a patient at Dad's hospital.) How incredibly sweet of him to come check up on Dad. It's so wonderful to see how Dad has touched the lives of those who have and are helping him heal.
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