Here's What's Going On

Okay, here's the story of the last couple of days.

Over the last week or two my mother has been having memory issues. Part of it is forgetfulness, part is remembering things that didn't happen. There was also some confusion involved. She did a few things that made absolutely no sense to anyone but her and then after a while wouldn't remember it. Later she'd try to do the exact same nonsensical thing.

She had called her doctor and booked an appointment. The doctor had some tests she wanted performed. It was supposed to all be happening over the next couple of weeks.

On Monday morning she was having dizzy spells. Dad called her doctor, who wasn't available. He then called the doctor who is covering for her, who ironically is my doctor. She told Dad to get her to Saints Memorial in Lowell.

They checked into the ER and had a CT scan. The ER doctor told them it was a brain tumor and immediately shipped them via ambulance to Mass General in Boston.

Based on the doctor in Lowell's statements they had a Neurosurgeon see her when she got into an ER bay in Boston. He gave her an exam and checked the CT films. I don't believe he was confident enough in what he saw to completely agree with the first doctor, so he ordered an MRI and asked to have a Neurologist examine her.

They brought her to the Imagining department and put her into the MRI machine and she had a panic attack. I don't believe that had anything to do with the situation. I think that only had to do with how nasty an experience an MRI can be.

They moved her to the ER department's observation floor and put her in a room. They let a little time pass and gave her some anti-anxiety medication and then went back to Imaging to try again. We were told that she had a tough time again, and that she kept moving inside the machine, but after a few tries they thought they had some images that might be usable.

So here's the time frame for the day so far. They went to the hospital at about 6:00am. John was with them then. They checked into Mass General at about noon. Jen and I got there shortly after that, and John got there shortly after us. I think the first MRI was at 4:00 or so. Lisa and Ken and Aunt Nancy arrived before the first MRI. The second MRI was, I think, sometime after 6:00. She got back to the Observation room at some time between 7:00 and 8:00 I think. Jen and I had left to go back to Lowell and get Dad's car and bring it to his house. We also had been lead to believe that the Hospital was expecting her to be an outpatient and we needed to swap our little car for our van so that we could drive them home. We got back to the room before 10:00.

The Neurologist arrived at about 1:00am. He gave her more or less the same exam that the Neurosurgeon had given when they first arrived in Boston, but it was longer and a little more detailed. She did perfectly well on all of the physical things, and she did pretty well on the memory things as well. So much so that the doctor was under the impression that her confusion was actually getting better.

It was not. It was much, much worse. When asked by the other doctors, Dad said that there might have been two or three episodes a day. By the time the Neurologist arrived it was pretty much constant. She couldn't remember where she was, or why she was there. She kept trying to get out of bed to leave. Occasionally she'd remember some of what was going on, but for the most part she was just confused.

Talk of outpatient procedures more or less ended when we told the doctor how she had declined over the course of the day. He mentioned two procedures that he wanted to have done before he could make a diagnosis. He also said that the entire Neurology team at the hospital would be seeing her and working on the case. I have since dubbed them "The Dream Team." Sometimes I just can't not be a smart ass.

He said that his best guess was that the diagnosis would be Lymphoma. He told us that it sounded crazy, but we should actually be hoping for that. Lymphoma would be the most treatable of all the possible diagnosis that he was considering. Personally, when he said "treatable" I heard "curable" and I need to stop doing that. As much as I want them to be, those two words are not synonyms.

Anyway, Jen and I left the hospital shortly after 2:00am. Lisa, Ken, and Nancy had left earlier. Lisa has a 3 week old baby to feed. She feels bad about not being able to spend more time at the hospital, but we all understand. The baby needs her. If she can get to the hospital now and then that's great, but if she can't then that's fine too. The baby comes first. She knows all of this. She just has to stop worrying about it. Easier said than done, but we all understand. Got that, big sister? You are doing the right thing.

So John and Dad stayed with her the first night. The Observation Ward (is Ward the correct term?) did not adhere to any visiting hours schedule and had no problem with them staying the night. She had a rough time of it. She'd sleep for a while and then wake up really confused and try to get out of bed to go home, or to the kitchen, or to some other place. She got agitated and upset when Dad and John would try to tell her what was going on.

On Tuesday morning she had the first of the two procedures we were told about. It was a Lumbar Puncture. I guess it's similar to a spinal tap. They warned her it would be painful, and she was nervous, but she did fine. Later The Dream Team visited with her and more or less restated what the doctor had said at 1:00am that morning. Probably Lymphoma, and that is the most treatable of all of the possible diagnosis.

Jen and I were both at work. We had talked about it and felt that if they did a biopsy we would drop what we were doing and go to the hospital. Fortunately we both work for very understanding people.

At around 2:00pm I got a call from Lisa. She told me that The Dream Team had been discussing the biopsy, and that it was going to happen. I took that to mean the biopsy had been ordered and scheduled. I told Jen and we dropped what we were doing and went to the hospital. On the way I talked to John, who sounded 95% asleep after his grueling 32 hours or so, and he corrected me. We went in anyway. Mary was on the way to the hospital to relieve John and Dad so they could go back to my parents' house and get some much needed sleep. When Jen and I got there we could help Mary.

Just before we got there she was moved from the ER Observation room to the Neurology Department. The Neurology Department told us that they are pretty strict about visiting hours. We would probably be kicked out of the room by 8:00pm. One of the nurses in Observation had warned us about this after the Neurologist had been in to examine Mom in the wee hours of Tuesday. We had done a lot of work preparing Mom for this. She had to stay, but we couldn't stay with her.

At about 7:00 last night that some how connected in her head and she got really upset. She was beside herself. She was furious with the whole family for betraying her and screwing her over and leaving her in the nut house. We just sat there and took it. I kept explaining the situation to her and she'd get mad, but then seem to get it for a few seconds, and then get mad again. The nurse let us stay a little while longer (thank you) and gave her some anti-anxiety meds (thank you) and eventually she seemed to run out of gas and she started drifting toward sleep. By then she had forgotten most of what she was upset about.

When we left, the nurse was in the room with her. By the time we made it to the parking garage Mom had gotten mad again, found the phone, and called Dad to let him know how upset she was. By the time we got to the highway she had calmed down and called Dad again and everything was all right. It's almost like there is a clear difference between when Mom is talking to us and when the tumor is talking to us. We just have to learn to see that difference real time and not get upset when we're hearing the tumor. I am positive that that is overly simplistic horse shit spewed out by a moron who took an intro to psychology class at a community college, but I don't care. I'm sticking with that line of thought, and if you don't like it you can screw.

John was staying with Dad last night and we got a bunch of text messages around 4:00am. She had woken up confused and called home a few times. The nurse had asked the doctor on duty for some help. I'm pretty sure she was asking for permission to up the anti-anxiety dosage. She told us that she'd do that if she felt it was necessary.

Visiting hours today are supposed to start at 1:00. I think. That's what the Observation nurse told us late Monday night. The overnight nurse told us that they were pretty loose with when they would let people in. They said most procedures are done in the morning so it was busy, and there was a shift change in there to deal with as well, but they'd still let visitors in early. Dad and John were planning to be there by around 11:00 or so. Hopefully when they get there they will have some good news. I really want that biopsy to happen. That is the procedure that will have the best chance of giving the clearest answers. However, we were told to expect that it might not happen until tomorrow. We should have a diagnosis by the end of the week, but that seems so very far away.

Okay. That's the situation. I wrote it down here because I was hoping it would make me feel a little better. It did... a little... a tiny bit. Also, I know that most if not all of the people who read this stupid blog already know what's going on so I figured it wouldn't hurt to spew it all out. I'll probably go back to being less than specific from now on.

Until then though, if you can spare some happy thoughts or some good vibes or some prayers or some positive energy or some specifically aligned candles or some rubbing of a statue's belly or a kiss on a blarney stone or anything that might help turn the universe in our favor, then I would be much obliged.