Thursday Update From February 18
There isn't actually much to report from yesterday, but I like to post from my conversations with Don. He still doesn't seem able to post.
Yesterday morning, they gave Linda morphine for some pain, I think. Don wasn't sure why they gave it, but as a result, Linda slept for most of the day. Don seemed less tired last night as a result of that.
He said he found out from the speech therapist, who works most days at Rusk, that the visitation policy there is quite generous. If you show up while she is having physical therapy, they don't seem to mind if you want to help.
The good news is that despite her sleepiness Tuesday, Linda hasn't lost any of her hard-won skills: looking around the room, moving her head a few degrees to the right. She can also raise her eyebrows. Don asked her whether she could raise one, and she did (I have never been able to do that, but last night, I confess, in my family, there were many attempts! Only Dereck can do it. My kids and I must not have that gene). Don said that was pretty funny when she did it (she could do it before, too).
Don also joked that he thinks it will be years before she can say "yes" without also looking up.
One thing I always forget to post is that Don says that now it's like having Linda through a straw. For some reason that always cracks me up. Is that terrible?
They took the little pumpers off her boots, thinking the heparin will help with the leg clot. For all they know, she's had that leg clot all week, so nobody is worried about it.
She has a lot of tone in her right arm, which actually is not good (but not terrible): It means that she is having abdominal pain from the surgery, so her arm pulls up involuntarily, protectively. Don just wishes that that wouldn't happen, but, oh well. Better to focus on the positive!
Linda woke yesterday afternoon and just wept for an hour. Don said it was almost as if she had forgotten or dreamt differently, and then awoken to the reality. "It's not like you can ask her what she is crying about. Her eyes are busy."
"Does she produce tears?"
"No, she doesn't."
They know she is crying because she vocalizes, and this is actually how Don managed to comfort her: "Linda, you can vocalize when you cry, so you need to try to focus on that and control it."
So, they worked on moaning. He said she moaned for a long time, but he wasn't sure whether it was because she was practicing or not...
Then, he started having her practice looking around with her eyes. Look diagonally up. Now, diagonally down. Look to the left. A little farther to the left. Look up. Look down. Look to the right. Look to the left. And so on. "I'm not a therapist. I'm just a reasonably smart guy, and it seemed to make her stop crying."
He also worked on her yoga breathing. Thank goodness for yoga breathing!
The ambulance is scheduled to take Linda to Rusk this morning at 10:00 a.m. But Don said it's been scheduled so many times, don't hold your breath!
One of the most poignant things he told me last night was that one of the nurses told him that the neurologist cried at work all day Friday about Linda. She has just been devastated by this. Don indicated that she is pretty young, around our age (yes, Truman students, 35 is young!).
Don is on the phone: Rusk is a go. Linda's physical therapists came early today, which was really nice. I can hear Linda in the background. Don was telling me that Linda woke up crying last night, so the nurses gave her something to help her sleep. He said the websites he's read indicate that people who are Locked-In just cry a lot. That seemed to make her cry a little.
He is telling me about the new letter-board he is making for her; more diagonal. He is using mathematical logic.
I just thought of something else funny that happened very early on, which will only be funny to people who know Don well, so this is for you:
When we first got to the hospital that first Sunday, and Don first said, "You know what makes me cry?"
Karen Smith said, "Proprietary software?"
Here's another funny: Last night Linda's mother and sister Barb were talking about how they can't wait to get their old Linda back when she comes out of this. Don said, "Well, she won't be the old Linda, because she'll have had all of these new experiences."
Barb said, "Wouldn't it be funny if when Linda comes out she were the type of person who sends cards?"
Because apparently right now, she is not. And I don't just mean because she can't.
You should understand that we've fallen into this kind of pattern now when we talk of laughing a lot. You just can't have serious and weepy conversations or you'll go insane.
I read Don the last paragraph of my post from the other night, about him driving down to Columbia. I said, "That was like the end of innocence, you can pinpoint the exact time."
He said:
No. The end of innocence came when he had just arrived at the hospital and he was standing in front of the elevators and he heard, "MRI to 4100, STAT!" And he thought, "That is for Linda. They looked at Linda and they think something else is wrong."
Then he got into the elevator, and by the time he got off, it was over.
There isn't actually much to report from yesterday, but I like to post from my conversations with Don. He still doesn't seem able to post.
Yesterday morning, they gave Linda morphine for some pain, I think. Don wasn't sure why they gave it, but as a result, Linda slept for most of the day. Don seemed less tired last night as a result of that.
He said he found out from the speech therapist, who works most days at Rusk, that the visitation policy there is quite generous. If you show up while she is having physical therapy, they don't seem to mind if you want to help.
The good news is that despite her sleepiness Tuesday, Linda hasn't lost any of her hard-won skills: looking around the room, moving her head a few degrees to the right. She can also raise her eyebrows. Don asked her whether she could raise one, and she did (I have never been able to do that, but last night, I confess, in my family, there were many attempts! Only Dereck can do it. My kids and I must not have that gene). Don said that was pretty funny when she did it (she could do it before, too).
Don also joked that he thinks it will be years before she can say "yes" without also looking up.
One thing I always forget to post is that Don says that now it's like having Linda through a straw. For some reason that always cracks me up. Is that terrible?
They took the little pumpers off her boots, thinking the heparin will help with the leg clot. For all they know, she's had that leg clot all week, so nobody is worried about it.
She has a lot of tone in her right arm, which actually is not good (but not terrible): It means that she is having abdominal pain from the surgery, so her arm pulls up involuntarily, protectively. Don just wishes that that wouldn't happen, but, oh well. Better to focus on the positive!
Linda woke yesterday afternoon and just wept for an hour. Don said it was almost as if she had forgotten or dreamt differently, and then awoken to the reality. "It's not like you can ask her what she is crying about. Her eyes are busy."
"Does she produce tears?"
"No, she doesn't."
They know she is crying because she vocalizes, and this is actually how Don managed to comfort her: "Linda, you can vocalize when you cry, so you need to try to focus on that and control it."
So, they worked on moaning. He said she moaned for a long time, but he wasn't sure whether it was because she was practicing or not...
Then, he started having her practice looking around with her eyes. Look diagonally up. Now, diagonally down. Look to the left. A little farther to the left. Look up. Look down. Look to the right. Look to the left. And so on. "I'm not a therapist. I'm just a reasonably smart guy, and it seemed to make her stop crying."
He also worked on her yoga breathing. Thank goodness for yoga breathing!
The ambulance is scheduled to take Linda to Rusk this morning at 10:00 a.m. But Don said it's been scheduled so many times, don't hold your breath!
One of the most poignant things he told me last night was that one of the nurses told him that the neurologist cried at work all day Friday about Linda. She has just been devastated by this. Don indicated that she is pretty young, around our age (yes, Truman students, 35 is young!).
Don is on the phone: Rusk is a go. Linda's physical therapists came early today, which was really nice. I can hear Linda in the background. Don was telling me that Linda woke up crying last night, so the nurses gave her something to help her sleep. He said the websites he's read indicate that people who are Locked-In just cry a lot. That seemed to make her cry a little.
He is telling me about the new letter-board he is making for her; more diagonal. He is using mathematical logic.
I just thought of something else funny that happened very early on, which will only be funny to people who know Don well, so this is for you:
When we first got to the hospital that first Sunday, and Don first said, "You know what makes me cry?"
Karen Smith said, "Proprietary software?"
Here's another funny: Last night Linda's mother and sister Barb were talking about how they can't wait to get their old Linda back when she comes out of this. Don said, "Well, she won't be the old Linda, because she'll have had all of these new experiences."
Barb said, "Wouldn't it be funny if when Linda comes out she were the type of person who sends cards?"
Because apparently right now, she is not. And I don't just mean because she can't.
You should understand that we've fallen into this kind of pattern now when we talk of laughing a lot. You just can't have serious and weepy conversations or you'll go insane.
I read Don the last paragraph of my post from the other night, about him driving down to Columbia. I said, "That was like the end of innocence, you can pinpoint the exact time."
He said:
No. The end of innocence came when he had just arrived at the hospital and he was standing in front of the elevators and he heard, "MRI to 4100, STAT!" And he thought, "That is for Linda. They looked at Linda and they think something else is wrong."
Then he got into the elevator, and by the time he got off, it was over.
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