Thursday, June 11, 2009
A little bit of a break
The Nausea has eased up, and dad is becoming again more lucid. Keep your fingers crossed.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
"Yeah, today's not a good day"
I told Pop I was going to be bringing my good friend D-lo in for a visit. His son also sustained a traumatic brain injury, and has come a long way in his recovery. He could answer questions for the both of us on the spot.
Dad's color was pearlescent, like the inside of an abalone shell. His eyes were lazy, and even the slightest shuffle or scrape sent his head pulsating like a giant bony heart. When he wasn't vomiting, there were moments of lucidity reiterating his current state, "Yeah, today's not a good day."
The doctors still don't know what's causing the constant vomiting, but have a theory. I could ramble on, but I'm sure you'd prefer to just watch this video. They suspect the recent surgery to replace dad's skull jarred some crystals loose.
I also have a couple theories of my own.
The swelling at the site of the surgery or the shunt currently not equalized (thus not draining enough fluid) are causing pressure against the inner ear. Much like an ear infection, his equilibrium is off and being prone to motion sickness he just upchucks when it gets too much for him.
My second theory is that he's faking it. Just kidding! There may be extra pressure on the brain itself. His body needs to become accustomed to the shunt, so drainage of CSF is regulated to the point where there's never too much, or too little. There may currently be too much, causing pressure on his brain makeing him sick. This is a common side effect of brain injuries and aftermath of surgeries; at least from the couple of websites I've read up on.
In any case, he's still roughly where he was mentally the first few days after the surgery. One moment he'll be cracking jokes like nothing ever happened, the next he'll be laying on us his conpiracy theories that the orderlies are part of a crime syndicate, wheeling him from room to room being sure to hit every bump at speed trying to get him airborn. He was in such a bad way yesterday, I didn't have the heart to correct him. It wasn't a day to exascerbate his stress.
I'm jumping in the shower now, will then spend the morning with him, and then am off to work. Think those good thoughts! (...for dad, not of me in the shower).
The hat returns. It's so big you can see the shadow cast onto mom's head. I need to add a quote for Chloe. Imagine her saying this, "I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor."
Dad's color was pearlescent, like the inside of an abalone shell. His eyes were lazy, and even the slightest shuffle or scrape sent his head pulsating like a giant bony heart. When he wasn't vomiting, there were moments of lucidity reiterating his current state, "Yeah, today's not a good day."
The doctors still don't know what's causing the constant vomiting, but have a theory. I could ramble on, but I'm sure you'd prefer to just watch this video. They suspect the recent surgery to replace dad's skull jarred some crystals loose.
I also have a couple theories of my own.
The swelling at the site of the surgery or the shunt currently not equalized (thus not draining enough fluid) are causing pressure against the inner ear. Much like an ear infection, his equilibrium is off and being prone to motion sickness he just upchucks when it gets too much for him.
My second theory is that he's faking it. Just kidding! There may be extra pressure on the brain itself. His body needs to become accustomed to the shunt, so drainage of CSF is regulated to the point where there's never too much, or too little. There may currently be too much, causing pressure on his brain makeing him sick. This is a common side effect of brain injuries and aftermath of surgeries; at least from the couple of websites I've read up on.
In any case, he's still roughly where he was mentally the first few days after the surgery. One moment he'll be cracking jokes like nothing ever happened, the next he'll be laying on us his conpiracy theories that the orderlies are part of a crime syndicate, wheeling him from room to room being sure to hit every bump at speed trying to get him airborn. He was in such a bad way yesterday, I didn't have the heart to correct him. It wasn't a day to exascerbate his stress.
I'm jumping in the shower now, will then spend the morning with him, and then am off to work. Think those good thoughts! (...for dad, not of me in the shower).
The hat returns. It's so big you can see the shadow cast onto mom's head. I need to add a quote for Chloe. Imagine her saying this, "I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor."Monday, June 8, 2009
Give him a couple days...
I know we had JUST opened up visitation, but he isn't doing as well today as we'd hope. He's taken a couple of tests, and they're being bumped around to try to figure out what is happening inside his head to be causing the downturn in his health and behavior.
In the meantime, please pray, send good vibes, coerce the fairies, dance and chant, or whatever it is you do that stirs up and projects the good vibes.
It's is much needed today.
Here's a little something to help you focus.
Dad, Chuck Taylor, and my sister before her wedding.
In the meantime, please pray, send good vibes, coerce the fairies, dance and chant, or whatever it is you do that stirs up and projects the good vibes.
It's is much needed today.
Here's a little something to help you focus.
Dad, Chuck Taylor, and my sister before her wedding.Open House
Dad is now welcoming all visitors. Email me directly if you'd like the details on how and where to see him, or even just how to send something to his room. eddie.kestermont@gmail.com
There are a number of ground rules for your visit; Dad, mom and I thought these would make the experience better for everyone.
1. Stay quiet. He has frequent and painful headaches and noise only exacerbates them. He reiterated this one during our discussion - don't be loud!
2. Limit your visit to roughly 15-20 minutes. He gets tired, confused and frustrated; it's better for everyone involved to cut themselves off at roughly the 20 minute mark.
3. Don't bring up the injury. He knows about it and can recite in great detail, but talking about the same thing day in and day out is wearing thin on him. Bring your relationship to the conversation. It'll be greatly appreciated and a breath of fresh air.
4. Be forewarned; he sleeps a lot. He may not be awake when you get there. Grab a seat, and if he shifts just say his name a couple times and he my come to.
5. This grouping has to do with the injury and it's affect on his thought processes:
He's excited to see all of you.
That hat. Need i say more?
There are a number of ground rules for your visit; Dad, mom and I thought these would make the experience better for everyone.
1. Stay quiet. He has frequent and painful headaches and noise only exacerbates them. He reiterated this one during our discussion - don't be loud!
2. Limit your visit to roughly 15-20 minutes. He gets tired, confused and frustrated; it's better for everyone involved to cut themselves off at roughly the 20 minute mark.
3. Don't bring up the injury. He knows about it and can recite in great detail, but talking about the same thing day in and day out is wearing thin on him. Bring your relationship to the conversation. It'll be greatly appreciated and a breath of fresh air.
4. Be forewarned; he sleeps a lot. He may not be awake when you get there. Grab a seat, and if he shifts just say his name a couple times and he my come to.
5. This grouping has to do with the injury and it's affect on his thought processes:
- Don't take anything he says personally. Remember that the brain injury has greatly affected his social filter.
- he may be inappropriate; please call him on it to help correct the behavior
- he may not remember you, or not remember you immediately. There have been a few times where he didn't know who Mom or I were. Again, don't take it personally.
He's excited to see all of you.
That hat. Need i say more?Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Documentation
I'm in the process of getting permission to film and otherwise document dad's recovery process.
He's also requested that I post some photos of him, specifically some of his more intense surgery scars. He likes to show off. :) We'll wait a couple more weeks to see if he holds the same sentiment.
He's also requested that I post some photos of him, specifically some of his more intense surgery scars. He likes to show off. :) We'll wait a couple more weeks to see if he holds the same sentiment.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Now that I've thrown everyone into a panic...
It actually looks exactly the way it's supposed to look.
He's got no "meat" on that portion of his head. No temporal musculature, no fatty tissue... that stuff has to fill back in.
Mom said the docs were poking him with their fingers there to show her that they were in fact touching bone.
BIG relief.
On a side note, I now have a consent form to visually record his recovery at the rehabilitation center!
He's got no "meat" on that portion of his head. No temporal musculature, no fatty tissue... that stuff has to fill back in.
Mom said the docs were poking him with their fingers there to show her that they were in fact touching bone.
BIG relief.
On a side note, I now have a consent form to visually record his recovery at the rehabilitation center!
It looks weird
The neurosurgeon caught us in the hall waiting to tell us everything went well.
We got to see Dad about an hour later after he got out of recovery. He made eye contact, waved, and then told the nurses he was about to puke. All of these are good signs. :)
His head still looks weird. It doesn't look like swelling, but almost as if the skull didn't entirely go back in. He's got a divot, a dent, like someone pressed down with their thumb into some soft clay.
Other than that, pop was heavily drugged up, but chipper and glad to see us as soon as his eyes opened. He's also no longer in isolation, so we can hang out without gowns and gloves and masks. He actually saw us and not medical gear when he woke up. I'm glad for that.
We got to see Dad about an hour later after he got out of recovery. He made eye contact, waved, and then told the nurses he was about to puke. All of these are good signs. :)
His head still looks weird. It doesn't look like swelling, but almost as if the skull didn't entirely go back in. He's got a divot, a dent, like someone pressed down with their thumb into some soft clay.
Other than that, pop was heavily drugged up, but chipper and glad to see us as soon as his eyes opened. He's also no longer in isolation, so we can hang out without gowns and gloves and masks. He actually saw us and not medical gear when he woke up. I'm glad for that.
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