Dear All,
Once again I take the opportunity to send out my final update on my Father. It is December 31st, and yes, I am at work. Hopefully we will be let out of here at 13:00, although rumours are such that we might have to work the full day! I'm hoping not.
I send my last update with a smile on my face, and a sense of huge relief. It has now been 1 day short of 3 weeks since my Dad underwent surgery, and has spent these last 20 days in intensive care. The first week, he spent sleeping; The second week, a rollercoaster ride; The third week, getting back on the road to good health.
The 25th, Christmas Day, was a decisive day in my Dads recovery. He had successfully gone through the stages of confusion, tiredness, panic and many more, but on this day he informed my Sister and I that he was now a new man, that he was ready to move on and get better. This was a good day for the family, it meant that the medication he was on was lessened and he was much more aware of everything. I unfortunately managed to catch a cold on Christmas day, and with intensive care it is not permitted really to visit when ill, the risk of infecting others is too great. My Sister did go visit on boxing day, but this was her last visit as her & Ben had to depart to the UK early the next morning. The 27th, 28th, 29th, & 30th my Dad spent alone. I would call everyday and pass messages onto the nurses to forward onto my dad, informing him of the unfortunate situation with not being able to visit. I'm sure he understood, but would have never the less loved some company.
Anyhow, to cut the story short, today they have decided that my Dad is fit to leave the intensive care unit and will be moved out at 11:00. His lungs are much better and his breathing and other vital signs have much improved. They will move him back up to the 18th floor where he used to be (for those that had visited during his therapy) but for how long he will remain there I'm not sure.
It's good news for my Dad has he will now be open for visitors. He'll be out of a room filled with loud peeping machines and hopefully have a more comfortable stay now. I will be going today after work, I'm hoping I'll be there at 14:00 (depending on when they let us out of here). Hopefully we can set up his computer with internet access and he will be able to send out his message(s), and inform you all of his journey from his perspective.
This should be my last update (definitely the last for 2007), it has been quite a privilege keeping so many of you concerned friends of my Dad informed and posted on his developments, and I thank you all for your well wishes, your wonderful and kind words and let me take this opportunity now to wish you all a Happy New Year, may 2008 be a prosperous year, filled with health and happiness for you all!
With Best Regards,
Family White.
Monday, 31 December 2007
Monday, 24 December 2007
2007-12-24 — Newsletter from Chris to All
Dear All,
I take this opportunity, being perhaps one of only a handful of staff members left in the VIC on Christmas Eve with really not much work to be done at all, to send out a further update on my Dads situation as it is now.
I must first say that it has, since my last update, been somewhat of a rollercoaster ride for us, and I think that could be putting it lightly when viewing it from my Dads perspective. I think he will perhaps describe it as having been to hell and back, and perhaps more than just the once. A negative start to an update, but I can assure you that although I start negatively that in the big picture things are looking positive.
It's hard to sometimes put things in an understandable order, so I will try to keep it to the point. In my last update there were hopes of my Dad being out of intensive care by the time my sister arrives on Friday the 21st (1 or 2 days the doctors said, and the phrase '1 or 2 days' is becoming an all to familiar one to me now). He is still in intensive care. It has now been 13 days and from what the doctor told me yesterday he could still be in intensive care for a further '1 or 2 days…'.
Day by Day;
Thursday:
It was decided that my Dad should come off the breathing aid, unfortunately he was not ready, so they had to put him on some other type of breathing aid that pressurises the lungs, so when I saw him that afternoon, he looked very distressed. He had what appeared to be a special space helmet around his head that pumps oxygen and pressurises the lungs. With this contraption on is head it meant that because he no longer had the breathing tube through the nose and down the throat he was able to try speak. That was nice. He wasn't very clear, but with practice that would come. His words though where not words of happiness and joy, he was very distressed. Since his awakening on Tuesday he apparently had had no sleep. From one extreme to the other it would appear. For him, a nightmare, he looked exhausted, he was exhausted, but his body rejected sleep. This, according to the professionals is completely normal, it is a type of withdrawal from the previous 7 days induced sleep. The body is trying to regulate itself, but for my Dad this of course meant nothing. He wanted desperately to go back to sleep.
Friday:
Because the pressurised helmet was not working, they had to put my Dad back onto the original breathing aid, which meant putting this tube back through the nose and down the throat, by no means a pleasant experience. This was done in the morning. My Sister and I arrived at 14:00 that day, and of course an emotional visit as it was my Sisters first. Dad was awake, and although extremely confused, tears expressed his joy that Sarah had arrived. He had also managed to get some sleep which was quite evident.
As speaking was no longer an option, we resorted to pad and paper, which he has now mastered. This is where we understood exactly how he was doing. I don't think anyone other than those who have been through such an ordeal will understand it, but it's extremely hard to have to convince someone that they are alive and not dead, or that they are awake and not in a coma, or that they are sane and not mad. But these are all questions he was asking. Tough on a first visit for Sarah. I think slowly though, through that visit he started really understanding himself where he was, why and that it was a matter of recovery.
Saturday & Sunday:
These two days showed marked improvement. More so from the mental side of things. He is still confused at times, he will wake up in panic, but in general, when Sarah and I are there he is calm, and we just spend the visiting hours communication with him. It is now evident that he is very bored. We have been given special permission to have his laptop in there with him. He now has books, his iPod amongst other items to make him pass the time more easily. I think these are more for his comfort, because the effort it takes to use them is exhausting, but I think knowing they are there gives him that much more motivation perhaps.
All in all, although his lungs are healing very slowly, they are healing and it really is just a matter of time until they can move him up to his own room again. He now knows this. His wounds from the operation are in excellent shape according to the doctors. He is able to smile, and has not lost his humour. He also questions why the are no visitors… I have told him that I'm sure there will be, but he has to wait until he's out of intensive care.
He has asked us to pass on his love to all. He knows there are lots of people out there thinking of him, praying for him, and he appreciates it. He looks forward to seeing you when he is healthy, and is looking forward to visitors as well.
A special note; Don & Lucille, whom many of you might know, have been extremely supportive not only for my Dad but also for Sarah and Me. My Dad really appreciates everyone's support, but I think Don & Lucille in particular. He had requested that they visit, and we managed to squeeze them both in on our Sunday visit. I think this was something my father really appreciated, and Sarah & I were pleased they could make it too. Like I said though, visits are easier to organise when he's out of intensive care, so he knows that for the rest he’ll have to wait.
From Sarah and myself, we wish you all the best, enjoy the holidays, and thank you all for your support.
Christopher.
I take this opportunity, being perhaps one of only a handful of staff members left in the VIC on Christmas Eve with really not much work to be done at all, to send out a further update on my Dads situation as it is now.
I must first say that it has, since my last update, been somewhat of a rollercoaster ride for us, and I think that could be putting it lightly when viewing it from my Dads perspective. I think he will perhaps describe it as having been to hell and back, and perhaps more than just the once. A negative start to an update, but I can assure you that although I start negatively that in the big picture things are looking positive.
It's hard to sometimes put things in an understandable order, so I will try to keep it to the point. In my last update there were hopes of my Dad being out of intensive care by the time my sister arrives on Friday the 21st (1 or 2 days the doctors said, and the phrase '1 or 2 days' is becoming an all to familiar one to me now). He is still in intensive care. It has now been 13 days and from what the doctor told me yesterday he could still be in intensive care for a further '1 or 2 days…'.
Day by Day;
Thursday:
It was decided that my Dad should come off the breathing aid, unfortunately he was not ready, so they had to put him on some other type of breathing aid that pressurises the lungs, so when I saw him that afternoon, he looked very distressed. He had what appeared to be a special space helmet around his head that pumps oxygen and pressurises the lungs. With this contraption on is head it meant that because he no longer had the breathing tube through the nose and down the throat he was able to try speak. That was nice. He wasn't very clear, but with practice that would come. His words though where not words of happiness and joy, he was very distressed. Since his awakening on Tuesday he apparently had had no sleep. From one extreme to the other it would appear. For him, a nightmare, he looked exhausted, he was exhausted, but his body rejected sleep. This, according to the professionals is completely normal, it is a type of withdrawal from the previous 7 days induced sleep. The body is trying to regulate itself, but for my Dad this of course meant nothing. He wanted desperately to go back to sleep.
Friday:
Because the pressurised helmet was not working, they had to put my Dad back onto the original breathing aid, which meant putting this tube back through the nose and down the throat, by no means a pleasant experience. This was done in the morning. My Sister and I arrived at 14:00 that day, and of course an emotional visit as it was my Sisters first. Dad was awake, and although extremely confused, tears expressed his joy that Sarah had arrived. He had also managed to get some sleep which was quite evident.
As speaking was no longer an option, we resorted to pad and paper, which he has now mastered. This is where we understood exactly how he was doing. I don't think anyone other than those who have been through such an ordeal will understand it, but it's extremely hard to have to convince someone that they are alive and not dead, or that they are awake and not in a coma, or that they are sane and not mad. But these are all questions he was asking. Tough on a first visit for Sarah. I think slowly though, through that visit he started really understanding himself where he was, why and that it was a matter of recovery.
Saturday & Sunday:
These two days showed marked improvement. More so from the mental side of things. He is still confused at times, he will wake up in panic, but in general, when Sarah and I are there he is calm, and we just spend the visiting hours communication with him. It is now evident that he is very bored. We have been given special permission to have his laptop in there with him. He now has books, his iPod amongst other items to make him pass the time more easily. I think these are more for his comfort, because the effort it takes to use them is exhausting, but I think knowing they are there gives him that much more motivation perhaps.
All in all, although his lungs are healing very slowly, they are healing and it really is just a matter of time until they can move him up to his own room again. He now knows this. His wounds from the operation are in excellent shape according to the doctors. He is able to smile, and has not lost his humour. He also questions why the are no visitors… I have told him that I'm sure there will be, but he has to wait until he's out of intensive care.
He has asked us to pass on his love to all. He knows there are lots of people out there thinking of him, praying for him, and he appreciates it. He looks forward to seeing you when he is healthy, and is looking forward to visitors as well.
A special note; Don & Lucille, whom many of you might know, have been extremely supportive not only for my Dad but also for Sarah and Me. My Dad really appreciates everyone's support, but I think Don & Lucille in particular. He had requested that they visit, and we managed to squeeze them both in on our Sunday visit. I think this was something my father really appreciated, and Sarah & I were pleased they could make it too. Like I said though, visits are easier to organise when he's out of intensive care, so he knows that for the rest he’ll have to wait.
From Sarah and myself, we wish you all the best, enjoy the holidays, and thank you all for your support.
Christopher.
Wednesday, 19 December 2007
2007-12-19 — Newsletter from Chris to All
Dear All,
I take this opportunity to 'Reply All' to David F's 'Seasons Greetings', I didn't have the distribution list before hand, and so have only kept those people updated who have contacted me via E-mail or Phone.
I know that my Dad had kept all of you in the Cinema Club informed to as his development, so I hope most of you will be happy to receive a further update from me now, if there are others who are not on this list that you feel might want to know, please by all means forward this message onto them.
I think you all know that last Tuesday (11th) he underwent the 8-9 hour surgery (Originally scheduled for Wednesday but they pulled it forward a day…) to A) Remove the site of the tumour, and B) To have the lymph glands from the upper neck removed. The operation was a success. They also only removed one of his lymph glands (left side) so the scar my Dad kept talking about will be halved. With the operation being a success, the Professor informed me that the induced sleep he was in should really only last 2 or 3 days, depending on how fast his swelling goes down.
Unfortunately, my Dad had developed a lung infection & fever during that night, and this really slowed everything down. With the lung infection, weakening his lungs, he had to be put on a respirator to aid the breathing. It also slowed down the overall recovery and meant an increased time in the induced sleep. Over the next couple days the treatment for his lung infection was showing positive signs, and the doctors decided to reduce the amount of breathing aid over a couple days to get my Dad to start doing the work himself again. They also started reducing the medication keeping him in his sleep.
So, yesterday, Tuesday the 18th, after 168 Hours, or 7 Days of induced sleep, my Dad woke up. I'm sure he must have been as confused as can be, and perhaps a bit panicked. The nurses strapped his arms to the bed because they feared he might accidentally pull on some of the tubes that he is still connected to. This of course will add to his discomfort. When I appeared at 18:00 last night, he was awake with eyes wide open, and I think the sight of a familiar face sent him into what appeared to be a frenzy - of course he isn't able to speak, arms are strapped, so it just looked like he was in discomfort - but what it was, in my humble opinion, was sheer relief, followed by joy that a recognisable face was there to comfort him and reassure him that he had survived the operation and that family was around
He certainly was wanting to communicate, but with his tongue still being swollen, this won't be an option for him for the time being, but he is fully functional in the upstairs department, and responds to question with nodding the head for 'yes', and shaking the head for 'no'. Through this I established that he is in no pain, but is not as comfortable as he would like to be, especially with the arms being restricted. The nurses and doctors there take care of him very well, and keep him informed so he knows why he is strapped down, and I think with me echoing their words he feels reassured that everything is fine, and moving forward the way it should be.
There was an odd moment a couple minutes into the attempted hugs from my Dad (very difficult as he is laid down flat and 'shackled'), when he started shaking his left hand, without pause, and seemed to be shaking/pointing at his stomach. I asked; "What - pain in your stomach?", 'No' he shook his head. I asked: "Are you hungry", 'No' he shook his head. After a couple 'No's" I got the doctor. She informed me that he had been doing this all day, and that they too had asked the same questions to which he answered 'No' every time. Then it dawned upon me, he's trying to speak, that's not working… I asked: "Hey - do you want a pen?", to which his head started nodding 'YES' with a sign of relief on his face that we finally understood him :)
So, out came the pen and paper, but unfortunately we produced nothing more than Morse Code…(I can't read Morse Code) This is because he is flat on his back, arms strapped, and cannot see the paper - never the less, it's a great sign.
Just a note, since he was admitted into hospital for the operation, I've had many e-mails, and phone calls, people stopping me in corridors wishing him well, and every time a new name would contact me I added the names onto an every growing list that I carried on me, which I read out to him yesterday, it was my 'Well Wishers List'; I think he was overwhelmed, and if he could I'm sure he would have shed a tear - he really does appreciate all the support and thoughts going out to him, I think it's always nice to know that people are thinking of you when in times of hardship. Thank you all.
Today they will complete the final stages of stopping the breathing aid (assuming he reacts well to it) and after that it should be 2 or so days until he can leave intensive care, and reside in his old room on a normal ward. Hopefully by Friday - this is when my little Sister arrives from the UK, so it will be very nice for her if my Dad is able to at least communicate with pen and paper, and probably a lot nicer than having to visit the intensive care ward. Fingers crossed.
So, he's survived the operation, and all he can do now is rest and recover. He knows this will take some time, but I think he's ready for the next stage!
As far as visitors go, it is still restricted to family members, and whilst he can't speak I think he will most likely prefer it to stay with family visits until such time when he is ready. I'm sure that once he is in his room out of intensive care, and has regained some strength, he will be back online, or reachable through SMS. Until then, I remain the contact person for any questions you might have.
With best regards, wishing you all Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!
Christopher
I take this opportunity to 'Reply All' to David F's 'Seasons Greetings', I didn't have the distribution list before hand, and so have only kept those people updated who have contacted me via E-mail or Phone.
I know that my Dad had kept all of you in the Cinema Club informed to as his development, so I hope most of you will be happy to receive a further update from me now, if there are others who are not on this list that you feel might want to know, please by all means forward this message onto them.
I think you all know that last Tuesday (11th) he underwent the 8-9 hour surgery (Originally scheduled for Wednesday but they pulled it forward a day…) to A) Remove the site of the tumour, and B) To have the lymph glands from the upper neck removed. The operation was a success. They also only removed one of his lymph glands (left side) so the scar my Dad kept talking about will be halved. With the operation being a success, the Professor informed me that the induced sleep he was in should really only last 2 or 3 days, depending on how fast his swelling goes down.
Unfortunately, my Dad had developed a lung infection & fever during that night, and this really slowed everything down. With the lung infection, weakening his lungs, he had to be put on a respirator to aid the breathing. It also slowed down the overall recovery and meant an increased time in the induced sleep. Over the next couple days the treatment for his lung infection was showing positive signs, and the doctors decided to reduce the amount of breathing aid over a couple days to get my Dad to start doing the work himself again. They also started reducing the medication keeping him in his sleep.
So, yesterday, Tuesday the 18th, after 168 Hours, or 7 Days of induced sleep, my Dad woke up. I'm sure he must have been as confused as can be, and perhaps a bit panicked. The nurses strapped his arms to the bed because they feared he might accidentally pull on some of the tubes that he is still connected to. This of course will add to his discomfort. When I appeared at 18:00 last night, he was awake with eyes wide open, and I think the sight of a familiar face sent him into what appeared to be a frenzy - of course he isn't able to speak, arms are strapped, so it just looked like he was in discomfort - but what it was, in my humble opinion, was sheer relief, followed by joy that a recognisable face was there to comfort him and reassure him that he had survived the operation and that family was around
He certainly was wanting to communicate, but with his tongue still being swollen, this won't be an option for him for the time being, but he is fully functional in the upstairs department, and responds to question with nodding the head for 'yes', and shaking the head for 'no'. Through this I established that he is in no pain, but is not as comfortable as he would like to be, especially with the arms being restricted. The nurses and doctors there take care of him very well, and keep him informed so he knows why he is strapped down, and I think with me echoing their words he feels reassured that everything is fine, and moving forward the way it should be.
There was an odd moment a couple minutes into the attempted hugs from my Dad (very difficult as he is laid down flat and 'shackled'), when he started shaking his left hand, without pause, and seemed to be shaking/pointing at his stomach. I asked; "What - pain in your stomach?", 'No' he shook his head. I asked: "Are you hungry", 'No' he shook his head. After a couple 'No's" I got the doctor. She informed me that he had been doing this all day, and that they too had asked the same questions to which he answered 'No' every time. Then it dawned upon me, he's trying to speak, that's not working… I asked: "Hey - do you want a pen?", to which his head started nodding 'YES' with a sign of relief on his face that we finally understood him :)
So, out came the pen and paper, but unfortunately we produced nothing more than Morse Code…(I can't read Morse Code) This is because he is flat on his back, arms strapped, and cannot see the paper - never the less, it's a great sign.
Just a note, since he was admitted into hospital for the operation, I've had many e-mails, and phone calls, people stopping me in corridors wishing him well, and every time a new name would contact me I added the names onto an every growing list that I carried on me, which I read out to him yesterday, it was my 'Well Wishers List'; I think he was overwhelmed, and if he could I'm sure he would have shed a tear - he really does appreciate all the support and thoughts going out to him, I think it's always nice to know that people are thinking of you when in times of hardship. Thank you all.
Today they will complete the final stages of stopping the breathing aid (assuming he reacts well to it) and after that it should be 2 or so days until he can leave intensive care, and reside in his old room on a normal ward. Hopefully by Friday - this is when my little Sister arrives from the UK, so it will be very nice for her if my Dad is able to at least communicate with pen and paper, and probably a lot nicer than having to visit the intensive care ward. Fingers crossed.
So, he's survived the operation, and all he can do now is rest and recover. He knows this will take some time, but I think he's ready for the next stage!
As far as visitors go, it is still restricted to family members, and whilst he can't speak I think he will most likely prefer it to stay with family visits until such time when he is ready. I'm sure that once he is in his room out of intensive care, and has regained some strength, he will be back online, or reachable through SMS. Until then, I remain the contact person for any questions you might have.
With best regards, wishing you all Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!
Christopher
Monday, 17 December 2007
2007-12-17 (approx) — Email from Chris to Sarah
This is an email sent by Chris (my son) to his sister warning her about what to expect when she came to Vienna for Christmas and to visit me. A friend was sent a copy and she sent it on to me about the time I got out of hospital. I was so touched by it that I include it here (with his permission).
Morning little Sister,
So, I'm back with an update on our old man. I went yesterday to visit between 18:00 - 19:00. It was definitely a weird experience being in intensive care. I was prepared in terms of Dad being swollen and what not, and so it wasn't so bad when I actually got there, of course seeing your Dad hooked up to countless machines all beeping and making noises while he is fast asleep can be emotional, but I held it together ;).
There are some things I need to make clear though so let me try and order this somehow. Basically Dad underwent surgery on the Tuesday. It was by no means a light operation. 8/9 hours comprising of 2 operations. 1 was to remove the area where the tumour was in his mouth, and the second to take out the lymph glands in the upper region of his neck. They did not take out both top lymph glands, but instead only the one on his left side where they found this speckle. There was actually a mini 3rd operation where they have taken skin/muscle from his left arm to replace it on either his neck or mouth - I'm not quite sure which. In terms of the operation(s) they went very smoothly, and the doctors are pleased with the result. According to everything they have told me, things are going how they should.
Now, just to make this point clear, cause I wasn't aware of it, but it seems logical now. When in intensive care, they keep you asleep. There is no waking up and then dozing off again, they keep you in a 'medically induced coma', a permanent sleep for your duration in intensive care. The reasons for this are that after the operation, especially the removal of his gland, there is swelling, and this is not comfortable, and probably painful and there's tubes and things that are doing jobs that require you to be asleep. So they keep you asleep until swelling is down, and until they think it is clear to wake you up. This is estimated to take about 2 or 3 days. When they decide to wake you up, they don't click their fingers mind, and then you're up, it takes a period of several days apparently, where they slowly reduce the drugs that keep you sleeping, so it's a slow process.
This being said, although it is most weird, and a very strange situation for us to be in - with Dad just being in a 'coma' - it is actually a good thing. Dad is sleeping. He is feeling no pain, and during these days in the 'coma' he is recovering, and when he does wake, those days will be behind him. So don't worry about the 'coma', or better said 'induced sleep'. It is better this way.
Like I said, 2 to 3 days this usually takes for swelling and what not, there was/is however a slight set back now. Dad has generally weak lungs, and what has happened is he has developed an infection. This is nothing to worry about, it is something that does happen, and is treatable, but the implications are that the process is slowed down, and the outcome of that - is a prolonged period in the 'induced sleep'. The doctor I was speaking with yesterday said that we should understand that this will most likely add another 5 days of induced sleep (might be more depending on how things develop). It sounds awful, but these people know what they are doing, and again, from Dads point of view he is sleeping, he is in no pain, and these extra days are days he doesn't have to deal with when awake. He is healing all the time.
I hope this is not worrying you, I know you'd rather be here than there, but there's nothing we can do but wait for the experts (and Dad) to do the best job they can. In all likely hood though, in fact I think it's almost a certainty, you need to know that Dad will not be able to come out on the 25th for this day visit that was an earlier option. I hope that by that time he will at least be awake. Visiting is not a problem, it is currently restricted to only family and limited times during the day, and a maximum of 2 people. So naturally I'll be there with you. Even on the days before Christmas.
Now, just an update from me when I was there last night, like I said above I was prepared for the encounter, and as it turned out it wasn't so bad. He still looks like Dad ;) and the swelling etc is not at all bad. The thing that catches your eye is just the sheer amount of machinery surrounding him. Computers and tubes and just and awful lot of noise. I always imagined it to be somewhat quieter, but there's just constant beeping and all sorts of noises. I did talk to him for a while, sent him all our love and well wishes from the many people who have been calling me and e-mailing me for updates so it will be interesting to see if he remembers any of it when he wakes. You have to speak a little louder though because of the noise. The doctors and staff there are friendly, and of course considerate to the fact that it's pretty emotional, so that's nice. He is being looked after well.
The results from the lymph gland will hopefully be with us next week, but to be honest, this is something we can deal with later, the main thing now, and for the next 3-4 weeks will be concentrating on Dads recovery.
I spoke with Uncle Michael last night, and he will be calling you this evening to have a friendly chat - he's been good on the phone! Mum will call as per usual on Sunday I believe :)
Oh yeah, I call the intensive care unit every morning just to find out how his night was, make sure that everything is still going the way it should, and in any case they have my number and mums number if there was ever to be anything that we should know.
Much Love, and looking forward to seeing you and Ben soon!
You can call anytime!
Chris
Morning little Sister,
So, I'm back with an update on our old man. I went yesterday to visit between 18:00 - 19:00. It was definitely a weird experience being in intensive care. I was prepared in terms of Dad being swollen and what not, and so it wasn't so bad when I actually got there, of course seeing your Dad hooked up to countless machines all beeping and making noises while he is fast asleep can be emotional, but I held it together ;).
There are some things I need to make clear though so let me try and order this somehow. Basically Dad underwent surgery on the Tuesday. It was by no means a light operation. 8/9 hours comprising of 2 operations. 1 was to remove the area where the tumour was in his mouth, and the second to take out the lymph glands in the upper region of his neck. They did not take out both top lymph glands, but instead only the one on his left side where they found this speckle. There was actually a mini 3rd operation where they have taken skin/muscle from his left arm to replace it on either his neck or mouth - I'm not quite sure which. In terms of the operation(s) they went very smoothly, and the doctors are pleased with the result. According to everything they have told me, things are going how they should.
Now, just to make this point clear, cause I wasn't aware of it, but it seems logical now. When in intensive care, they keep you asleep. There is no waking up and then dozing off again, they keep you in a 'medically induced coma', a permanent sleep for your duration in intensive care. The reasons for this are that after the operation, especially the removal of his gland, there is swelling, and this is not comfortable, and probably painful and there's tubes and things that are doing jobs that require you to be asleep. So they keep you asleep until swelling is down, and until they think it is clear to wake you up. This is estimated to take about 2 or 3 days. When they decide to wake you up, they don't click their fingers mind, and then you're up, it takes a period of several days apparently, where they slowly reduce the drugs that keep you sleeping, so it's a slow process.
This being said, although it is most weird, and a very strange situation for us to be in - with Dad just being in a 'coma' - it is actually a good thing. Dad is sleeping. He is feeling no pain, and during these days in the 'coma' he is recovering, and when he does wake, those days will be behind him. So don't worry about the 'coma', or better said 'induced sleep'. It is better this way.
Like I said, 2 to 3 days this usually takes for swelling and what not, there was/is however a slight set back now. Dad has generally weak lungs, and what has happened is he has developed an infection. This is nothing to worry about, it is something that does happen, and is treatable, but the implications are that the process is slowed down, and the outcome of that - is a prolonged period in the 'induced sleep'. The doctor I was speaking with yesterday said that we should understand that this will most likely add another 5 days of induced sleep (might be more depending on how things develop). It sounds awful, but these people know what they are doing, and again, from Dads point of view he is sleeping, he is in no pain, and these extra days are days he doesn't have to deal with when awake. He is healing all the time.
I hope this is not worrying you, I know you'd rather be here than there, but there's nothing we can do but wait for the experts (and Dad) to do the best job they can. In all likely hood though, in fact I think it's almost a certainty, you need to know that Dad will not be able to come out on the 25th for this day visit that was an earlier option. I hope that by that time he will at least be awake. Visiting is not a problem, it is currently restricted to only family and limited times during the day, and a maximum of 2 people. So naturally I'll be there with you. Even on the days before Christmas.
Now, just an update from me when I was there last night, like I said above I was prepared for the encounter, and as it turned out it wasn't so bad. He still looks like Dad ;) and the swelling etc is not at all bad. The thing that catches your eye is just the sheer amount of machinery surrounding him. Computers and tubes and just and awful lot of noise. I always imagined it to be somewhat quieter, but there's just constant beeping and all sorts of noises. I did talk to him for a while, sent him all our love and well wishes from the many people who have been calling me and e-mailing me for updates so it will be interesting to see if he remembers any of it when he wakes. You have to speak a little louder though because of the noise. The doctors and staff there are friendly, and of course considerate to the fact that it's pretty emotional, so that's nice. He is being looked after well.
The results from the lymph gland will hopefully be with us next week, but to be honest, this is something we can deal with later, the main thing now, and for the next 3-4 weeks will be concentrating on Dads recovery.
I spoke with Uncle Michael last night, and he will be calling you this evening to have a friendly chat - he's been good on the phone! Mum will call as per usual on Sunday I believe :)
Oh yeah, I call the intensive care unit every morning just to find out how his night was, make sure that everything is still going the way it should, and in any case they have my number and mums number if there was ever to be anything that we should know.
Much Love, and looking forward to seeing you and Ben soon!
You can call anytime!
Chris
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
2007-12-11 — Calendar entry – the Operation
The operation was scheduled for about 8:00 in the morning.
I remember being wheeled into this enormous waiting room – there must have been 30 odd people each in their own bed all parked near each other and all, or almost all, with drips and things connected. The individual anaesthetists came and chatted to their specific patients and shortly after that they were wheeled through one of two (I think) large doors.
I was about last. When it came to my turn I remember just after the doors I was transferred onto a different bed and wheeled into a new, but very small waiting room. And to be honest I don't remember anything else
Monday, 10 December 2007
2007-12-10 — Newsletter – an even shorter note
Dear All
Am now checked in to my room (Station 18D (Green) room 2).
The main news is that the operation has been pushed forward to tomorrow. Which is good as there is already going to be enough waiting about today.
Chris will be phoned after it is over, so he will have the latest news. The ward will presumably also have information. I will be back on the ward one or two days after the operation, all things being well
Filled in a million forms, had talks with anaesthetists and ordinary doctors, have given blood, and have had my mouth shown to a group of 20 students, so things are happening.
love to you all
David
Am now checked in to my room (Station 18D (Green) room 2).
The main news is that the operation has been pushed forward to tomorrow. Which is good as there is already going to be enough waiting about today.
Chris will be phoned after it is over, so he will have the latest news. The ward will presumably also have information. I will be back on the ward one or two days after the operation, all things being well
Filled in a million forms, had talks with anaesthetists and ordinary doctors, have given blood, and have had my mouth shown to a group of 20 students, so things are happening.
love to you all
David
Wednesday, 5 December 2007
2007-12-05 — Newsletter – A short note
Dear All
Just a short note to say that the tests etc show me to be in good shape and the operation will go ahead on Wednesday 12th December. I have to go into hospital on the Monday (to rest they said) and will be in hospital for about 3 weeks.
The operation will apparently last 8 to 9 hours — a long time for a 64 year-old surgeon to work you'd think — but they assure me I'll be asleep for it all.
I will have email in hospital but might not be too active on that front for a while. Right now am feeling a bit snowed under with things that need to be done before Xmas, and so take this opportunity to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
Your well-wishes and prayers have meant a lot to me over the last few months and I feel confidant that I will be again on top of the world in 2008 (I've already lost 13 very much unwanted kilos — about 29 lbs for you imperial types, and will soon apparently have a dashing looking scar on my throat to enhance my looks).
For those of you in Vienna, don't forget the Bazaar this Saturday at the Austria Center. I will be performing my last public functions of the year then (official photographer and tombola clerk) and you can even buy a poster (called "Faces") featuring some of my pictures from last year. All profits from the Bazaar go to children's charities
love to you all
David
Just a short note to say that the tests etc show me to be in good shape and the operation will go ahead on Wednesday 12th December. I have to go into hospital on the Monday (to rest they said) and will be in hospital for about 3 weeks.
The operation will apparently last 8 to 9 hours — a long time for a 64 year-old surgeon to work you'd think — but they assure me I'll be asleep for it all.
I will have email in hospital but might not be too active on that front for a while. Right now am feeling a bit snowed under with things that need to be done before Xmas, and so take this opportunity to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
Your well-wishes and prayers have meant a lot to me over the last few months and I feel confidant that I will be again on top of the world in 2008 (I've already lost 13 very much unwanted kilos — about 29 lbs for you imperial types, and will soon apparently have a dashing looking scar on my throat to enhance my looks).
For those of you in Vienna, don't forget the Bazaar this Saturday at the Austria Center. I will be performing my last public functions of the year then (official photographer and tombola clerk) and you can even buy a poster (called "Faces") featuring some of my pictures from last year. All profits from the Bazaar go to children's charities
love to you all
David
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