DAY 9: Mom Isn't Dead
What a great day!
Dr. Offner finished working on Mom's stomach. He managed to sew her abdominal muscles together normally, and used the vacuum pack to pull her skin together.
They also got her trake in. She seems much happier with it than she was with the tube in her mouth. I spoke at length with Dr. Offner this morning and again in the afternoon, and gave him a copy of my book.
I researched him online and found a number of papers written by him and presentations he'd given as far away as London. He's well-known in his field, and as it happens, he knows a great deal about abdominal compartment syndrome (ACS). It's caused by too much pressure building in the abdomen from oozing fluids and internal bleeding. That pressure can make it hard for a person's organs to operate normally and often distends the belly as well.
Dr. Offner wrote a paper saying that prevention is easier than a cure. He advocated in the paper leaving the abdomen open for as long as possible without causing infection. This plan is precisely what he followed with Mom, putting his own theories into practice for her situation. How fascinating, although I'd rather have not had a front row seat.
I ate a late breakfast at Swift's Kitchen across Colfax. It came highly recommended by other long-term visiting family. They know the area well, and the visitation schedules, so they're a good resource.
I ate an American heart-attack breakfast and drank coffee while sorting through Mom's bills. No wonder she's always stressed out about money. I couldn't believe what a hassle it was to open all those envelopes and find the bill in the thicket of advertisements to send more money. They even turn the back flap of the payment envelope into an ad for something! I had to tear the ads off the backs of the payment envelopes in order to seal and mail them.
There were some problems that I needed to call her companies about, so I returned to the Yaffe House. There, I spoke with the other guests about how much easier bill paying is in Japan. People receive just the bill in an envelope. They take it to any convenience store (all of which are clean and safe, unlike the ones on Colfax). The clerk scans a barcode on the bill, accepts cash as payment, tears off a stub from the bill as your receipt, and sends you on your way. No checks, no late fees, no finance charges, no lining up the address in the envelope payment window, no removing ads from anything as you try to pay for what you already bought.
Mom's Compass Bank credit card was past due, so I called their toll-free number to request that any late fee be waived in light of the circumstances. Their phone system was down. I was told to call back in 30 minutes. I did so, and the person I reached said that the computer was down. He could tell me, however, that if payment wasn't received by midnight there'd be a late fee. "Can you get it here by midnight?" he asked.
"I'm mailing a check from Denver. What do you think?" I replied. "What can be done to avoid the fee?"
He gave me a number to call for the nearest branch where I could pay in person. I drove to the one on 6th and Broadway. The teller was kind and wished Mom a speedy recovery. Then, she said, without thinking, "I hope we see you back here again soon."
"Really?" I asked. "I don't. I hope another branch sees my mother soon." She agreed that that would be better.
Colleen, Dain, and Rosita visited this evening. They thought Mom looked a lot better. Colleen left to go to the restroom, and we found her 45 minutes later in the waiting room at the bottom of an emotional well shaft.
She remembered that Mom had asked if she'd like to wear Mom's wedding dress when she marries Dain. She said that Mom had looked so happy talking about it, like it was the most obvious and great idea for a memorable wedding day. Colleen said no, she would not like to wear it. She remembered that Mom looked hurt. Today, in the waiting room, she'd watched Rosita and, as a mom herself, realized how sad Mom must have been that her daughter didn't want to wear the family wedding dress. She said today that she thinks she should wear Mom's dress next spring, although she's still not sure, and she thought of several other wrongs she wants to make right.
"And you'll have a chance to do so," I told her. "That's the fringe benefit of this situation. All of us are experiencing the guilt and 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' feelings that most people go through after a loved one dies. Mom isn't dead. Keep these feelings and when she's healthy again, put all of your regrets in order."
She cheered up a little. We all walked back to stand around Mom again. That's most of what we do. She's not awake yet, so we just take a spot around her, say a few words to her for a while, then hold onto various parts of her while we talk. Often, though, we just stand there.
Dr. Offner finished working on Mom's stomach. He managed to sew her abdominal muscles together normally, and used the vacuum pack to pull her skin together.
They also got her trake in. She seems much happier with it than she was with the tube in her mouth. I spoke at length with Dr. Offner this morning and again in the afternoon, and gave him a copy of my book.
I researched him online and found a number of papers written by him and presentations he'd given as far away as London. He's well-known in his field, and as it happens, he knows a great deal about abdominal compartment syndrome (ACS). It's caused by too much pressure building in the abdomen from oozing fluids and internal bleeding. That pressure can make it hard for a person's organs to operate normally and often distends the belly as well.
Dr. Offner wrote a paper saying that prevention is easier than a cure. He advocated in the paper leaving the abdomen open for as long as possible without causing infection. This plan is precisely what he followed with Mom, putting his own theories into practice for her situation. How fascinating, although I'd rather have not had a front row seat.
I ate a late breakfast at Swift's Kitchen across Colfax. It came highly recommended by other long-term visiting family. They know the area well, and the visitation schedules, so they're a good resource.
I ate an American heart-attack breakfast and drank coffee while sorting through Mom's bills. No wonder she's always stressed out about money. I couldn't believe what a hassle it was to open all those envelopes and find the bill in the thicket of advertisements to send more money. They even turn the back flap of the payment envelope into an ad for something! I had to tear the ads off the backs of the payment envelopes in order to seal and mail them.
There were some problems that I needed to call her companies about, so I returned to the Yaffe House. There, I spoke with the other guests about how much easier bill paying is in Japan. People receive just the bill in an envelope. They take it to any convenience store (all of which are clean and safe, unlike the ones on Colfax). The clerk scans a barcode on the bill, accepts cash as payment, tears off a stub from the bill as your receipt, and sends you on your way. No checks, no late fees, no finance charges, no lining up the address in the envelope payment window, no removing ads from anything as you try to pay for what you already bought.
Mom's Compass Bank credit card was past due, so I called their toll-free number to request that any late fee be waived in light of the circumstances. Their phone system was down. I was told to call back in 30 minutes. I did so, and the person I reached said that the computer was down. He could tell me, however, that if payment wasn't received by midnight there'd be a late fee. "Can you get it here by midnight?" he asked.
"I'm mailing a check from Denver. What do you think?" I replied. "What can be done to avoid the fee?"
He gave me a number to call for the nearest branch where I could pay in person. I drove to the one on 6th and Broadway. The teller was kind and wished Mom a speedy recovery. Then, she said, without thinking, "I hope we see you back here again soon."
"Really?" I asked. "I don't. I hope another branch sees my mother soon." She agreed that that would be better.
Colleen, Dain, and Rosita visited this evening. They thought Mom looked a lot better. Colleen left to go to the restroom, and we found her 45 minutes later in the waiting room at the bottom of an emotional well shaft.
She remembered that Mom had asked if she'd like to wear Mom's wedding dress when she marries Dain. She said that Mom had looked so happy talking about it, like it was the most obvious and great idea for a memorable wedding day. Colleen said no, she would not like to wear it. She remembered that Mom looked hurt. Today, in the waiting room, she'd watched Rosita and, as a mom herself, realized how sad Mom must have been that her daughter didn't want to wear the family wedding dress. She said today that she thinks she should wear Mom's dress next spring, although she's still not sure, and she thought of several other wrongs she wants to make right.
"And you'll have a chance to do so," I told her. "That's the fringe benefit of this situation. All of us are experiencing the guilt and 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' feelings that most people go through after a loved one dies. Mom isn't dead. Keep these feelings and when she's healthy again, put all of your regrets in order."
She cheered up a little. We all walked back to stand around Mom again. That's most of what we do. She's not awake yet, so we just take a spot around her, say a few words to her for a while, then hold onto various parts of her while we talk. Often, though, we just stand there.
Posted by Jason Kelly | 9:51 PM
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