Weather I’m Right, or Weather I’m Wrong

Renee’s recovery seems to be as fickle as the weather. The surgeon said there would be up and down days but you can never be sure if it is just a down day or something worth calling the doctor over. The abdominal cramps and shooting pains have not subsided. One of her co-workers said she looks green. At least she’s got some color!

I made Renee call the doctor last week. The big question, which doctor? She got through to the gastroenterologist first but tomorrow is the first available appointment. Can this wait until Monday?

She has been experiencing chills and this morning was hit with what appears to be a return of her recurring eye infection. Her eye doctor has said relates to a weak immune system, another signal of something bigger going on. I had brought up the possibility of adhesions previously and a friend in the medical profession also brought it up yesterday. That knot that I told you about last week is a form of adhesion that poked its way through to the surface.

Adhesions are nothing but internal scar tissue. Some people are more susceptible to them than others. Following Renee’s kidney removal five years ago she experienced a life threatening bout when the scarring strangled her colon. About a month after the surgery, I brought Renee to the emergency room for severe abdominal cramping. She was standing on her head from the pain and I am not exaggerating. It was a Saturday morning. They ran a bunch of tests which lasted until nightfall. They sent me home and said the results would not be ready until morning. A little after midnight, a got a call that they were rushing Renee to surgery, NOW! I got to the hospital just as the on-call surgeon was having her final pep talk with Renee. The surgeon pulled me aside, looked me square in the eye and said, she’s got maybe 12 hours to live if we don’t operate. So, what are doing chatting with me? Get to work doc! Post-op, the surgeon made sure she hammered this little tidbit about twelve hours home. It was a not so subtle reminder not to ignore the things your body is telling you.

What I didn’t hammer home to the surgeon was that the ER doctor was ready to release Renee with some alka-seltzer or similar placebo like treatment. It was our family doctor who told them to run additional tests and that Renee isn’t one of those patients who just runs to the hospital for attention. Don’t get sick on the weekends folks.

What have we learned here kids? Healthcare is a lot like predicting the weather. Some are better at it than others and no one is so good that they can tell you absolutely what is going to happen. But if the signs are all there that a hurricane is coming, batten down the hatches! Here is my tribute to that profession that is more fickle than the weather itself. These people missed predicting two, not one but two, “storms of the century” this year alone.

Weatherman
By Bob Masterson

Thank God its Friday cause man, I just had a killer week
Whatever could go wrong just did and the job front’s looking bleak
To top it off that green screen clicking, TV talking head
Told me it’d be sunny
And now I’m soaking wet.

Never trust a weatherman or anything they say
I want that job where I can be wrong everyday
Sorry boss but Mother Nature just got in the way
Now my baby needs a new pair of boots
Thanks for that raise in pay

God Bless the soul
Who could land that role
And continue on un-phased
When they’re standing in
Two feet of snow,
Without predicting
One damn flake

I’ll get up Monday morning
Face the music at my workplace
Knowing I can’t blame the weather
For the screw-ups that I make
My boss’s needs change with the breeze
But he doesn’t see it that way
I always get hit with that high pressure system
When told a cold front’s on the way

So I’m riding out the storm
Blind to the next blast
And I don’t need a weatherman
To tell me
This too shall pass.


Any predictions on what's happening in Renee's gut? You've probably got as good a chance at diagnosing it as the weatherman has predicting the next storm of the century. Go ahead, give it a shot.

Gut Wrenching

I like to have fun here when celebrities pass away. They are easy targets and there is no collateral damage because we don’t really know these folks although the media acts like we do. It is different when someone close passes. You feel it in your core and it throws off your equilibrium. My father’s brother, William, Uncle Bill, has now moved on to his meeting with the Great Divine. He has gone on to join the ever growing circle of family celebrities that are doing their own version of a swarp in the great beyond. I bet he’s doing Mr. Bojangles on the harmonica as I write this. Our grief grows exponentially as the circle here on earth gets tighter and tighter. Here’s to you Uncle Bill! Say hey to the rest of the gang, especially Dad.

Renee started work this week at the pre-school. No kiddies yet as they don’t start until next week. She survived pretty well but last night was complaining of sharp pains from her lower abdomen. We’re not sure if it’s too much too soon or some other cause.

Stress maybe? We do have a house full of Renee’s family. Yes, the whole crew is here awaiting the arrival of the moving truck so they may move in to their new house just minutes away. Her mother, father, brother and grandmother are all here, four generations under one roof.

The level of care needed for “Other Nana” has increased dramatically since the last time we saw her in the Spring. She’s in her own world most of the time and can create the most elaborate stories of what is happening. Any novelist would be jealous of her flair for fiction, only she doesn’t realize it isn’t true. Physically, she is as bad, or worse, than her mental state. She is in need of supervision 24/7 and you can see the toll it is taking on all involved in tending to her needs. It is real work and despite best intentions has surpassed the abilities of Renee’s parents of handling this on their own. Professional care takers and facilities are being researched as I write.

Renee is still complaining of the pains in her gut and I can hear her saying “Ew, Ow, Ow, Ouch” from the other room. There is no visible indication of what is causing the pain and guess what? It is the weekend. This stuff always happens on the weekend. It is probably another knot, this time internal. This is the same post-op timeframe that her adhesions from her kidney surgery doubled her over – that was a Saturday too – so I’m watching this closely. I’m hoping it is nothing more than routine disruption stress from the whole family move thing and it will pass when the moving truck arrives. Until Monday I’ll be keeping the tool box with the big gut wrench at the ready.

Ex-Squeeze Me?

Renee and I are so sophisticated. We jet to exotic locations for lunch and head home. That is if Cleveland can be considered exotic and if you can consider an old Volvo that qualifies for “cash for clunkers” a jet. Sorry, but there are no pictures of me in my ascot and Renee in her scarf. And just between you and me, the stewardess’ service was terrible.

Yesterday, we did a road trip to Cleveland for Renee’s first official post-op with the surgeon. These follow ups are always an eye opener. The Cleveland Clinic just a few weeks ago was again rated as the number two hospital in the world for digestive diseases. The Mayo Clinic secured the number one spot. I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t you take Renee to the top hospital? Two reasons, one, number two tries harder to become number one and two, proximity, although Cleveland is five hours away by car, it is possible to do a day trip. Plus, the Mayo is somewhere in Minnesota. It’s likely that the same people who are voting it number one are the ones who stuffed the ballot box for Jesse Ventura and Al Franken. Can they really be relied upon for surgical matters?

Being a top hospital for a particular specialty though does not mean that they are the best at all things. Administration is also important. My scorecard for this last surgery has their rating very low this time around. One, they initially did not have a bed for Renee on the colorectal floor despite a three month heads up. The difference between the care on the general care floors and the colorectal unit is night and day, similar to the difference between Louisville Baptist East Hospital’s CDC Unit and the Park Towers. Two, the surgeon prescribed two medications for Renee to combat the high output and dehydration, these did not make it to the discharge papers. Three, it appears that the post-op letter from the surgeon advising of the importance of taking these medications was never mailed.

Three strikes you’re out. Or, in Renee’s case, you’re in, the hospital that is. Her trip to the BEast here was easily preventable if she had received the proper instruction and medication at the time of her release from Cleveland. In these days of high speed communication (yes, they have our email addresses), there is no excuse for some letter not to make it through and blaming snail mail. And, where are the prescriptions that you supposedly prescribed Doc? Saying this is common after this type of surgery and that you always prescribe these things to prevent it doesn’t cut it. You screwed up, admit it.

The rest of Renee’s check up went well. He gave her the old how-de-do with the finger probe to check out the rectal connections and said all is well. He had to add again how much trouble he had during surgery stretching everything out and hooking it all up. I ‘m not sure if he was looking for an “oh wow, you’re such a great surgeon” or trying to divert attention away from the fact that he failed to properly fill out the discharge paperwork. I don’t care how great your surgical skills are if your patients don’t make it through recovery. And the big question is, if these medications were so important and if Renee’s output was high in Cleveland why wasn’t she on them in the hospital?

He kind of scolded Renee for not taking these medications when she got home, like it was her fault she didn’t get the information she needed, the old the best defense is a good offense routine. Can you see my blood boiling?

For a little over a week Renee’s been sporting a blister like protrusion at the base of her incision. I made her go to our general practitioner on Monday to make sure it was not anything life threatening. The doctor schedule was full but due to Renee’s post-op history she squeezed her in, literally and medically. She, the doctor, called it a goober and played with it for a while like it was one of those slippery stress balls. She said it was so much fun she had a hard time stopping. I looked up goober in the medical journals but couldn’t find anything. I also don’t know of any diagnostic testing that involves squeezing things like a water balloon just for kicks. I’m going to have to put on my vision enhancement devices and check the fine print on her diploma the next time I’m in her office. She did act a little bit like a doctor and ordered blood drawn to check for infection. The infection test came back negative so she said wait until Friday to show the surgeon. The surgeon said it is a knot. It is caused by internal stitches rubbing under the skin. It should go away by itself. If it doesn’t he’ll splice it during the next surgery.

The next surgery, number three and hopefully the final in the series, is scheduled for October 6. Renee’s got two months more to recover and to suffer with the loop ileostomy which is a pain in the stoma. I won’t trouble you with a repetition of the discomfort, inflammation and mishaps related to the current setup but to say that Renee’s none to happy with it and is looking forward to the next surgery.

There you have it, the beginning of the next chapter is in sight. The surgeon said that only 5% of the final “takedown” procedures result in full abdominal surgery and it should be nothing more than making a small incision. The stoma is closed and reinserted inside the body. Piece of cake right? 95% chance of only a minor invasive maneuver, right? Stay tuned, you know our gal’s problem with going along with the majority.

The surgeon also told Renee that between now and takedown she’s got to do Kegel exercises. She’s got to redevelop the muscle memory so she may have some control once her plumbing is reconnected. We’ve decided to work on this as a family. It shouldn’t be hard we’re going to jump right into the butt clenching this week as the in-laws arrive to stay with us until their moving truck shows up. This coming week they will officially become Loui-villains. Spell check tells me there is something wrong with that but I don’t see it.

All together now,

Scrunch, hold, release!
Scrunch, hold, release!
Scrunch, hold, release!

Oh Summertime, Where For Art Thou?

It’s been a long time since I did the blog whoah-oh-oh
Been a long time since I webbed and logged oh-oh –oh-whoah
Let me get it back, let me get it back, let me get it back
Back to reportin’ on, whoaha- oh –oh –oh
Been a long time
Been a long time
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, time!

Renee does not like Led Zeppelin, you’d think someone who has at least twice laid a down payment on the Stairway to Heaven would appreciate them a little more. Nonetheless, We’re sure glad the lawyers found a loophole in those contracts.
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Yikes! There was a Huffnpuff sighting yesterday. She showed up to release Renee from home health care. I can’t believe Renee let her back in the house, even if it was to officially tell her to go away. I hope it was a happy ending for her. Not so for me - nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

July has ended without a day of 90 degree weather, first in Louisville’s recorded history. This is nothing to complain about although most of it was more moist than Spring with close to record setting rainfall.

Last Saturday, the sun broke through after a week of rain. I dragged Renee out of the house. The sunshine didn’t last though, rain was past threatening and was falling intermittently. Mike’s band, Pope Lick Swills, was playing a fundraising gig - Mike’s one of the founding BierWerkes brewers - and managed to squeeze in a set in between the thunderstorms. It was a benefit for autism and I hope they raised loads of money. Despite being uncomfortable in the wicker chair I think Renee enjoyed herself. After dinner Renee shuffled over to the neighbors and chatted until way past her bedtime. It was her big day out. She commented on Facebook that she had a great weekend. It is amazing what a couple hours away from hospitals or beds will do for you.

Cassidy started volleyball practice this week. She’s on the school team which is brand new this year. I had shuttle duty since Renee was out of energy by the time the evening practice time rolled around.

Renee went to the Gastro Doc on Monday and he cleared her to drive. She’s been taking Cassidy back-to-school shopping as strength will allow.

We’ve fallen into Fall prep mode with only one slight sunburn to our credit. So there it went, Summer I mean. We get to cap it off by traveling back to Cleveland for a post-op visit on Friday. The scheduling of the next surgery should be known by the end of next week.

Although much cooler than usual, July was National Ice Cream Month. We’ve still got a couple of solid weeks of summer before school so here’s my tribute to that sweet sensation.

Love, War and Ice Cream Cones
By Bob Masterson

Down at the Clip Joint
The cut-ups do not disappoint
Have a seat at number three
I’ll clean you up real nice

She talked about her cravings
While she was snippin and shavin
But then started into raving
At some friendly advice

We had a heated convention
‘bout a frozen confection
And now her missed workouts
somehow were my fault

She called me Satan
Quite an overstatement
I replied, it’s good to know
I own your soul

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

Even Gandalf the Wizard
Comes ‘tween a woman n her Chocolate Truffle Blizzard
Look out, she’s got the scissors
It was just a joke

Put down that hair dryer
I swear your eyes could melt fire
Don’t tease a woman ‘bout her desire
For her comfort food

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

Is the moral of this song
Can’t we all just get along?
Nah! It’s never eat ice cream
while someone cuts your hair

And don’t comment on her diet
Even if you don’t mean nothing by it
Cause she don’t fight fair when she’s cutting hair
Or eating ice cream cones

No she don’t fight fair when she’s cutting hair
Or eating ice cream cones

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

The above is based on a conversation with my barber and contains some verbatim quotes. The real question is, should I ever return there for a hair cut?