Leap Day

Fall down seven times. Stand up eight. - Japanese proverb

It's not a fancy salon, but warm shampoo still feels good.

Seems appropriate that on Leap Day, Mom should leap ahead with progress. I'm thrilled to share some of our breakfast conversation from this morning. When we commented that she was doing well using her fork to poke her french toast, she said, "Am I?" She said "thank you" to Dad when he cleaned her eyeglasses. She said "eyes" and gestured to them when she wanted her glasses on, and she said "suitcases?" when she saw Peter's bags this morning, prior to his flight home.

One funny...she said "Peter" and gestured as if she was brushing her teeth. I asked her if she wanted Peter to brush her teeth - she made a silly face and said, "No!" and then gestured again. After a few interpretative guesses, we figured out she was telling him that he looked nice. :)

It's so exciting to hear these words come out in addition to a lot of word salad, as her neurosurgeon says. The words that come out are perfectly clear and are little joys to our ears.

A little step back

With any kind of brain trauma, you're bound to experience some physical side effects, and Mom is no exception. The right side of her body is not cooperating, so her right arm, hand and leg aren't working yet. She's starting to experience swelling of the right hand, which is common for people on chemo, and she's on a high dosage. Fortunately we can help by light massages and keeping her hand propped up on a towel.

Late Monday she started displaying signs of confusion during multi-step processes, like teeth brushing or using utensils to eat. The nurse said it's not uncommon for patients with brain injuries to have trouble with multiple steps, so we're trying to give simple instructions and not overwhelm her with lots of voices or faces at once.

We're hoping this improves with time as more radiation and chemo zaps the bad cells in her brain.

One big step forward

Mom's wall of art in the ICU

All teachers need their white boards.

Mom has moved from the ICU to a normal hospital room, and she has all of the mandatory ICU monitoring tethers removed. Her heart rate, blood pressure, blood counts, respiratory, etc are all looking great. The only thing that is wrong is this glioblastoma! One of the doctors who stopped by this morning said everything is working like it should, and we're using the right medicine to address the issues in the brain, so that plus a positive attitude will do a lot to help Mom feel better.

To help achieve that, Mom is enjoying watching the weather report, a sunny week in Texas for the foreseeable future, says "Wow" when watching the TV chef season a large roast, and we're sharing all the jokes and notes that you're sending us. It's all good news this morning, and I feel like she is having a personal "Leap Day" today.

Visitors

While Mom is on chemo, her immune system is not at its best, and lots of sleep is very important. We'll let her decide when she's ready to see visitors.

Please feel free to call or email us anytime if you want to stop by, and we can check with her on how she's feeling. Thanks to everyone for your understanding and support!

Radiation gives us a few words!

Mom's yellow roses are tinged with pink.
The rose bush was a Mother's Day gift from her girls years ago.

After the weekend's quiet, turning into occasional frustration, and the growing impatience while waiting for radiation, 2:30 pm yesterday was a welcome time. Mom recognized the guy who takes her on her radiology field trip, and she was so happy to see him! He is a young, smiling guy who has a tough job: taking people who are really sick to a treatment that may or may not help them and will probably make them feel a little worse before it makes them feel better. And yet he does his job with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. It brightened Mom's day and she positively reacted to his presence. YAY for people who are in the right job; we are thankful for them.

Last night Mom said "yes" a few times, very clearly...and this morning, she said "wait just a minute" clear as a bell. She's still mostly gesturing (we're getting better at reading what her pointed fingers mean) and having clear facial expressions to let us know what she's trying to say.

:) means I'm happy to see you
:( means I'm so mad I cannot say what I want to say
:{ means I do not want any more of those nasty powdered scrambled eggs
:] means I will tolerate you putting in yet another iv site but I am not happy about it
;) means I love my grandchildren and their cute pictures that are all over my wall
xoxo means I love you, and there's a whole lot of that.

Today for the second time, Mom's anti-nausea medication that she takes prior to the chemotherapy pills has put her right into a nice, deep sleep. This means her body can metabolize and absorb the chemicals it needs to, and when she wakes up for more radiation today, it will have an even greater effect. I'm very much looking forward to what words she says today.

Smiles from Mom's friends, the NRMS Sunshine Committee!

Happiness is homemade banana nut bread.

A wonderful homemade card with friendly faces that make Mom smile.

Thanks so much, friends, for the wonderful baskets and cards and food you're providing for Mom and her family. You have no idea how good it feels to relax about the little things while we are taking care of Mom and this very big thing. She loves the cards, jokes, poems, letters, pictures...it's a wonderful gift you're all giving Mom, your friendship and love in tangible forms. She and all of us can feel the prayers and the support, and we appreciate it more than you know.

Appreciating the little things

Gratitude is an art of painting an adversity into a lovely picture. - Kak Sri

We were hoping for a morning radiation treatment today. It is scheduled, however, for 2:30 pm today. So we wait some more.

I'm very impressed with a few little things this morning, however.

1. Mom can eat oatmeal and grits at the same meal. The texture of the hot cereal is good for her and she can gladly enjoy both bowls that are brought to her. This is in addition to her apple juice, milk, and coffee, which you just know is not nearly as tasty as her typical skinny vanilla latte.
2. All 7 pills this morning went down without enormous effort. That's a significant feat considering it's hard to swallow anything, especially something that looks suspiciously like a fat jelly-filled pencil eraser. Today, vanilla pudding eased the way. Another trick that worked.
3. Nurses know exactly how to get Mom into a normal chair and back into her fancy bed with a minimum of effort on mom's part. It's quite a feat of physics to do that, given no motor skills are working on Mom's right side. (Let's get on with the radiation, people!)
4. Nurse Michael is very good at taking blood pressure and putting on leg compression wraps without waking up Mom. He's so quiet, you wouldn't even know he's in the room. Mom's quiet sleep ended when the compression wraps started inflating and deflating, but the good thing is no blood clots will form while she's wearing them.
5. Brushing teeth is a fun experience when half your mouth isn't working the way it should. It's a team effort requiring a table, a small cup of water for rinsing, a big empty cup for spitting, a supersoft toothbrush and a little dot of toothpaste, a floss pick, and a small cup of mouthwash. Not to mention a towel and paper towels. After doing this a few times now, you'd think I would have figured out to prep all my supplies before getting started. But I always leave something out of reach.

I know Mom is ready to brush her own teeth again. Let's GO with this radiation so she can!

Counting the hours until 2:30 pm...

Hazy, lazy Sunday

The wisest are the most annoyed at the loss of time. ― Dante Alighieri

It was a quiet Sunday at Harris Methodist HEB. Mom had one radiation treatment on Friday, and we were all nervous but happy that she was beginning treatment aimed at kicking back this awful disease. But the hospital runs with fewer staff on the weekends and, since they want everyone around during radiation in case a patient has a serious adverse reaction, no radiation was scheduled for Saturday or Sunday even though the oncologist felt Mom was sick enough to warrant starting radiation weeks earlier than they would otherwise. (Normally they would wait until her head had healed from the surgery, since radiation can slow the healing process.)

The wait is frustrating for Mom, and it strikes us as odd that a hospital would have fewer staff on the weekends. There aren't fewer sick patients, are there? Not judging by the waiting room anyway.

So yesterday and today, poor Mom had to just sit and wait for Monday, so she could resume forward progress and feel like she was doing something about this thing. Sitting and waiting does not come naturally to our Mom - not unless she's sitting on a patio in sunny Napa Valley and waiting for someone to pop open a bottle of Syrah. Instead, she's reclining in a bed that inflates and deflates every few seconds, facing the same view she's seen for days, too tired to enjoy any of the diversions we try to bring into the room. (Syrah not included, sadly.)

Many of her medicines (steroids and Temodar, in particular) have the side effects of heightening emotions and causing insomnia. She's more emotional than last week, and no one sleeps well in the ICU. The only thing that seems to help is surrounding her with family, hugs, and assurances that we all know she's strong and can fight this thing.

Today I reminded her:

"If you can teach a bunch of rowdy eighth graders, you can do this. If you can inspire a kid facing so many challenges to rise above and see his own potential, you can beat this thing. It just will take time."

She sighed, nodded and seemed a little calmer. As one of her nurses said, it's okay to be sad, but she also needs to get a little mad and determined to push as hard as she can and get back what this stupid cancer has taken away from her. She can do it.

Kindred souls

Beverly, Lisa, Robin and Barbara

Nancy and Alicia

The Worrell-Berg-Mack-Probasco clans were camped out in the waiting area as usual today, and our spirits were bolstered by visits and treats from many of our wonderful friends.

• Ed and Arden Mack, Peter's parents, came by and brought us all bracelets that say "God is big enough." Mom loves hers (and stole it off Jennifer's wrist to put on her own.)
• Randy McLaughlin, Mom and Dad's good friend and long-time wine expert, and his wife
• The NRMS crew: Barbara Hargrove, Nancy Kirkland, Beverly Barfield, Lisa Edmonds, and Robin Thomas, who brought us girls a spa basket of treats so we can continue to make Mom's stay in the ICU as spa-like as possible (and maybe ours too!)
• The wonderful Sharma family - friends of Mom and Dad's for more than 20 years - brought a delicious and nourishing dinner.

Thanks so much for your continued prayers and support! It's truly humbling to know we have such a loving community here to help us and Mom get through these awful times and reach for better days ahead.

Sunny Saturday

Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand. -- Mark Twain

Saturday at the ICU...the morning began with another great breakfast and pill regimen. It's a good thing the nurses have a database of all Mom's medications, because she takes 7 pills at breakfast alone and more throughout the day. It's amazing she can get them all down. Some are harder than others. I'll put my plug in now for you smart NRMS students, please go into the pharmaceutics field after college. Please make it mandatory that all pills be coated, slippery, and preferably no bigger than a baby aspirin size. No one should have to swallow pills the size of rolled up quarters, especially when the pill is full of chemotherapy drugs that you are not allowed to chew or to sprinkle into applesauce.

We have discovered a few tricks in this pill-taking business. Applesauce helps sometimes, yogurt was a big help, putting your chin to your chest helps (it raises your epiglottis out of the way - who knew?)The nurses here are so supportive, helpful, and patient with us as we learn to do this together.

While Mom enjoyed her breakfast in the ICU, some wonderful teachers from her school brought a breakfast buffet up to the waiting room, where the Worrell-Probasco clan completely stuffed their piggy faces. Thank you, friends, for your love and support! Mom is very lucky to have friends like you.

No radiation therapy on weekends, unless it's "an emergency." It's hard to think of a glioblastoma as not being an emergency, but we're not doctors. So just chemotherapy pills for the weekend. Mom asks a few times a day when she can get more radiation, she is ready to get this show on the road! She knows the treatment she had Friday, in addition to the chemo, is helping her make small baby step progress. She's eking out a few more words here and there, proof positive that treatment is helping reduce the swelling and pressure in her brain.

During non-visiting hours, our family (minus Mom and never-leaves-her-side Dad) enjoyed a very special event at Richland High School. Mom's been an English teacher at North Richland Middle School for around 23 years, and she is well-loved by her students. (Check out the videos on her Facebook page or the comments in this blog!) All of her kids move up to Richland High School after NRMS, and several have joined a group called the Johnny Rebs. I don't know the exact way to describe this group...but let's say they are energetic actors, dancers, lip synchers, performers and friends. The event last night was billed as the "Johnny Reb Lip Sync", and it was a variety of acts that ranged from hysterical (a take on Toddlers and Tiaras) to amazing (Beyonce!).

The Johnny Rebs on stage

It was thoroughly entertaining - thank you to Annie Bentz and your awesome mom for inviting us to the show! The most special thing about the show was that the kids dedicated it to our Mom. What an honor to her.

When the emcee made that announcement at the beginning of the show, she got applause. And it grew, and then there were cat calls and whistles and "Go Mrs. Worrell!" Mom would have been so happy to hear that! We have a lot of it on video, and we will load it up for her to see as soon as we can. It's impossible to count the number of students Mom has taught through her time not only at NRMS but before...at York High School in Yorktown, Virginia, and at Clovis High School in Clovis, New Mexico...and probably some others that I can't remember right now. Every student that had the luck to be in her classroom has been treasured and fussed over. It's awesome to see that love come back in many different ways. Thank you, Johnny Rebs! It was a special night for us.

When we came back to the hospital after the show, I showed Mom the program of the show and told her all about it. She was so excited to read the program and see all the students' names. She asked for pictures of them all, so if you don't mind, flood my email alicia.probasco@gmail.com with headshots! Individual pictures are easier for Mom to see than videos because she can focus on them and let her eyes absorb all the details slowly.

Mrs. Worrell says, "Awesome!"

A few more things...Mom enjoyed kisses from her grandchildren and us girls of course. Lots of hand holding, lots of hugs, lots of reading cards and Facebook posts and blog comments. Keep those coming, please! She even had a comment from her son-in-law that made her giggle...he said the Tar Heel we drew on her whiteboard looked more like a steak than a Tar Heel. She laughed! Mom's sense of humor is kicking well. It's hard to make a joke, but it's easy to laugh at one.

Today let's be thankful for laughter. It's the best medicine!

Chemotherapy, Radiation, and other things

Mom gets some love from daughter #1

 The last 24 hours have been unlike any we've experienced before. The ICU nurses are telling Mom she has quite a fan club, between all us family here in the waiting room and crowding into her room. (We often ignore the "two visitors at a time" rule.) Last night, getting ready for a big day today, Mom had a spa treatment service equal to any you'd get at the Ritz. Jennifer and Sara pampered her with warm foot massages, peppermint lotion, hand massages, teeth brushing and flossing, and a facial. The room was a veritable aromatherapy cool sauna, very inviting and comforting, even with soft indirect lighting and a massage bed! To be honest, the massage bed is designed to prevent skin sores, so lest you think this is truly a paradise, it's not, but last night it was the absolutely best of the circumstance. I'm proud of my sisters putting aside stress and focusing on loving mom in a way that she could sink into, both physically and emotionally.

Today's emotions have been on edge; steroids and new situations can do that. We have hung pictures from the grandchildren on the wall, read her the lovely cards, letters, blog responses and Facebook messages, and we have decorated her white board (yes, she has one!) with her daughters' and grandchildren's names, pictures of a cat, hearts, smiley faces, and even a Tar Heel. She enjoys reading the names and looking at the pictures.

Speaking of reading, it's a whole lot easier now. The turban which has been protecting her incision was removed last night. I expected a careful removal, involving cutting tape and unwinding the gauze... instead, the doctor put his hand on the top, grabbed the gauze, and lifted it straight off! Kind of like removing a stocking cap after spending a day skiing. It just slid right off!

You'd be amazed to know that from looking at her, you cannot even tell Mom's had brain surgery. The staples in her scalp match the color of her hair, and you have to lift her hair to see them! The surgeon did an amazing job. Mom had two shampoos last night and will get another one tonight. It must feel great, she really enjoys the shampoo and massage.

After breakfast, Mom took her normal course of pills, and today there were three new ones. These are chemotherapy pills to help her fight her tumor. These pills will not cause Mom to lose her hair (the radiation might), and they make her nauseous, but they are far less harsh on her system than chemotherapy for non-brain treatments. Something to be thankful for, brain cancer chemotherapy doesn't make you that sick.

After lunch, Mom went for her first radiation therapy treatment. This was about a 30-minute visit to the Edwards Cancer Center (the radiology area of the hospital), so she got a nice field trip driving on that fabulous massage bed. Must have been nice to get out of the room. Sara and Mary Claire surprised her by cheering in the hallway as she was rolled by. Upon returning to her room, she got the chance to love on Catherine and Mary Claire, who took turns being carefully escorted back to her room to give her pictures, tell her about their day, and give treasured hugs and kisses.

Happy MC gave her beloved Grandma a homemade card.

This afternoon Mom was showing trouble swallowing, so her diet was changed from a very normal diet to a minced diet. The change in menu didn't get to the dietitian's office in time, so dinner was pretty fun. The nurse brought her a nice large, baked, seasoned chicken breast (good) with wax beans (not her favorite), mashed potatoes and gravy (yum!), a wheat roll (hard to eat), and what I think was cherry cobbler (mmmm). Then, as Dad was cutting up her chicken into little bite-sized pieces, the nurse brought in a second tray, the 'correct' diet! It was the exact same meal on the plate, but in mini little pieces. Even the soup was pureed. It was infinitely easier for Mom to eat. It didn't improve the taste of the wax beans (what could?), and the new menu didn't include any bread or cobbler, but the chicken and potatoes must have hit the spot; she enjoyed them.

Now dinner is done, it's non-visiting hours in the ICU, and the nurses are busy transitioning their duties to the next shift coming onboard. We'll miss Abby and hope she has a good night, she's a wonderful nurse! Hope to see her again tomorrow. As we kissed Mom goodbye for a few hours, she stopped Jennifer and waved her hand at her. She wanted to know something...and she wanted to get the words out herself...and she did.

She said San Francisco.

Our Mom's voice is in there, and today it came back a little. Thank you God, thank you chemo, thank you radiation, thank you neurosurgeons, oncologists, nurses, dads, grandchildren, sisters, families, friend families, work families, all around us.

Mom said San Francisco today.

It was a good day.

Mom's yellow roses are blooming today.

A Difficult Day

Today we learned what caused Mom's abnormal result on yesterday's scan: Her tumor is back, and it's larger than before. It's the kind of tumor that grows like a mushroom; it comes back faster and bigger than before, and even with further surgery, it will continue to grow. What a sad day today is.

Her neurosurgeon said despite the fact that pathology is still growing the tumor in their dishes in order to determine exactly what we're dealing with, he believes this is a stage 4 glioblastoma, which is good news and bad news. Good is that these stage 4 tumors respond well to radiation therapy, the goal of which is to kill the cancer cells in a particular stage of their growth. Bad is that no matter how sophisticated our science is, the tumor will always win.

Another good thing about this, which we all need to take comfort in however we can, is that these tumors have a peaceful effect on the patient. Mom understands what is happening, and although she's not fully capable of communicating verbally, through her eyes and gestures, she does understand.

Mom has really enjoyed our reading her Facebook posts, especially the silly jokes. It's hard to be silly now, but that is one thing you can do to help her smile. And watching her smile warms all of us. So keep it up!

Special note for Hein: We told Mom how well you did on your science test. She smiled very big -- she is very proud of you. KEEP IT UP! You're a special young man, and your hard work brings happiness to Mom and fills all of us with hope and warmth. We're all proud of you. Tell all your friends that the best thing they can do is to study hard for Mrs. Worrell. She loves you all.

Back in the ICU

Mom was taken for a CT scan around 5:40 pm today, and the results came back as "abnormal." We're told that means some changes have occurred since the last CT scan, and there is no way to know what is causing it until the results of the biopsy are complete. (Which, maddeningly, still are not considered final because not all doctors have signed and approved them.)

So the hospital doctor, Dr. Chakraborty, ordered Mom transferred back to the ICU for close monitoring. It was a gut-wrenching change that none of us anticipated. We were getting used to having Mom in the oncology ward; she had good nurses (especially Sandra), and we had a relatively quiet room and space to sleep next to her. She had a window and enjoyed watching the sunset today.

In contrast, the ICU is cold, noisy, and scary for all of us, especially Mom, and she's in the shared "critical care bay" because the private rooms are all taken. There's no place for a loving family member to stretch out next to her and hold her hand while she sleeps. Of all the unfairness in this whole situation, that's an unnecessary frustration - we just want to be surrounding her with love and warmth, as she would for us.

We're encamped in the ICU family lounge, blankets and reading material in hand, and ready for a long night ahead. Prayers and more prayers would be appreciated.

Road to recovery

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." - Mary Anne Radmacher

No one said the road to recovery would be a short one. It's a long road full of curves, bumps, potholes, and upward hills to climb and downward hills to coast. Sometimes the road is paved and clearly marked, but sometimes it's little more than a cow path in the fog. A lot of people are helping Mom travel along this road, and we do our best to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Monday: an A+ day

Monday kicked off the week with a bang, with Mom showing excellent progress and renewed energy. For the first time since last Wednesday, February 15, she stayed awake and alert for the better part of the day, waking early for breakfast and staying awake until late afternoon. She sat in a chair and was entertained by charming and loving grandchildren in the early morning and after school, and she worked hard with her physical and occupational therapists.

Happy Grandma and her soccer player, MC

Mom's exercises include stretching and moving her right arm and fingers, because the smaller muscles can tighten if they aren't moved enough. She can move and grasp with her right hand, but it takes an enormous amount of concentration for her brain to communicate with the nerves and muscles. Muscle memory is hard to access when the brain is healing, and if she succeeds in moving once or twice, subsequent moves are easier. We brought in a variety of objects for her to practice grasping, including some wine corks. Might as well give her something she's motivated to reach! Stress balls help all of us. (We have quite a collection now.)

Now where's my glass?

Charles and Macklin flew home to California on Monday afternoon. They'll keep cheering her on from there and return as often as possible. We didn't say goodbye, just "see you soon." Their departure was tough on Mom, though, and we're committed to sending daily photos and videos of Macklin to keep up her spirits.

Tuesday: a C- day

Tuesday was a difficult day. Mom's head is healing from surgery, and that is causing some headaches. The pain pills make her extra foggy and sleepy, and we suspect they negatively impact her ability to recall language and enunciate. Nonetheless, she worked hard at physical therapy and was able to stand for a few minutes, and she diligently practiced her leg lifts and hand stretches. More movement seems to help her stay alert.

Also, Mom has been on steroids every six hours since Friday, February 10, and its cumulative effect wreaks havoc on her emotions. She often is nervous, teary, sad and scared that her recovery is taking longer than she thought it would. (After this many days staring at hospital walls, who wouldn't be?) We try to explain that it's just the steroids talking, and it's like having PMS: brighter days are just around the corner, and in the meantime let's all eat some chocolate and watch "Downton Abbey."

In one exciting moment, an excruciatingly insensitive endocrinologist made a bone-headed and thoughtless comment to Sara and Mom, making us both cry. Needless to say, this sat poorly with our Dad, and the endocrinologist is no longer on Mom's team. You can still see the scorch marks in the hall from Dad's conversation with the medical staff. Go Dad!

Mom continues to love all the comments, emails, cards and gifts sent by her loving friends and family. Yesterday she received a gorgeous handmade quilt in cheerful yellow and pink, and we all had a good laugh with the fun things sent by her teacher friends at NRMS. We love the audio books and Hangman game! What a great idea.

Our uncle (Mom's big brother, Rick) arrived on Tuesday morning, and he's a boost to her spirits as well.

Wednesday

It's a sunny and warm day today, and apparently there's a baby boom because the labor and delivery waiting room at Harris Methodist HEB is packed with happy families. Let's hope all this positive energy radiates down the hall to Mom's room, too.

Keep up the prayers - we all feel them.

Monday morning - student edition

To all my students:

I want to say to you that I love you, I am working hard for you, I am working very hard to get better so I can get back to class.

You know something happened, I am doing fine and I am going to get better.

Love,

Mrs. Worrell

Now, from Mrs. Worrell's daughter, all you students, our challenge to you is to work just as hard until spring break! Mom is taking each challenge day by day. If you do the same, you'll make her so proud.

Weekend update

I love my mother as the trees love water and sunshine - she helps me grow, prosper, and reach great heights. -- Terri Guillemets

Mom has been surrounded by family around the clock since Friday, February 10th. It's a testament to her that we all get along so well and aren't sick of each other yet!

Saturday

Saturday was an emotionally and physically exhausting day. There's nothing comfortable about the ICU for the patient or the family. It's a place designed to make you so uncomfortable that you heal quickly just so you can get out of there.

Mom wore a giant white gauze turban, IV's in both arms, an oxygen tube in her nose, a wrist brace, a blood pressure cuff on her arm, a catheter, and pressure cuffs on both calves to prevent blood clots. Her bed constantly vibrated, inflated and deflated, a technique designed to prevent blood clots. She was monitored constantly by multiple nurses, an endocrinologist, and physical therapist along with her neurosurgeon, primary care doctor and a social worker. She was not able to turn or lift her head or her right arm, and the nursing staff had to reposition her frequently to avoid soreness. With all the interruptions, it was remarkable that she ever got any sleep.

Finally on Saturday night, Mom's brace and one IV was removed, and she was moved to a private room, which is small but has a pull-out chair for a guest to sleep on and a handful of chairs. The oncology wing is undergoing renovation, so she's housed in part of the labor and delivery wing on the first floor. It's a cheerful, bright floor with pretty colors and wood floors, and the halls are decorated with pictures of babies. (We joked to Mom that we could get her some stirrups if she wanted to fit in with the other ladies.)

Sunday

Despite a somewhat restless night, Mom is having her best day since the surgery. She ate some bacon and a biscuit at breakfast and was relaxing when Charles, Macklin and I (Sara) showed up for a visit. We had paused in the hall to warn Macklin to be on his best behavior, and like a typical 3-year-old, he was loudly protesting. Apparently Mom heard his voice from 20 feet away and told Daddy to go get him RIGHT NOW:
That's my grandbaby. That's Macklin!

They had a wonderful visit, and seeing her precious grandson put the sparkle back in Mom's eyes. They shared stories, and Macklin helped Grandma practice her ABCs. (She remembered the tune but struggled with the letters.) Not to be outdone, her sweet granddaughters visited after church as well, and she was so happy to see them. Everyone got kisses and squeezes.

She also was visited briefly by two special friends, Nancy Sharma and Carolyn Kitchens. Carolyn remarked that one of the nurses told her Mom has had more visitors than anyone else in the hospital.

Mom and long-time friend, Nancy Sharma

Alicia and Sara shooed everyone away so Mom could eat lunch and work on her physical therapy. She has temporary loss of some peripheral vision in her right eye as well as decreased sensation in her right arm. We're confident it all will return with patience and therapy.

After a long morning of practicing her language plus arm and leg lifts with Alicia and Sara, Mom complained to Daddy:
Oh, Lord, these ladies worked me!

She may tease us, but she really wants to work hard. She's eager to return home as soon as possible and worries about her students, her garden, and her grandchildren. Mom has a life full of blessings, and she wants nothing more than to return to full health and be able to enjoy it all as soon as possible.

Daddy: If you would just close your eyes and take a nap...
Mom: It's hard. I've got things to do!

Friday in the ICU, part 2

The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it. -- C.C. Scott

Mom had a long but good first day in the ICU. She ate a little more at every meal, drank a good amount of water and tea (no coffee or wine yet -- poor Mom!), and gamely put up with all the tests and breathing treatments. She struggled with some tasks initially (like raising one finger at a time) and got better with practice, which is exactly what the doctor said would happen. She told the occupational therapist that she was a hard worker, and the OT agreed. She recognizes everyone and is heartened by pictures of her grandchildren as well as by all the notes she's received on Facebook and on her blog, and of course by all the wonderful cards she has received. It will just take some healing and therapy before all her words flow as easily and smoothly as they did before.

We are so proud of her for finding the strength to make it through the surgery and come out fighting on the other side. She has a strong spirit, and her sense of humor is still as sharp as ever.

Mom received a good report from her neurosurgeon, Dr. Singel, this afternoon, and he told her the tumor was a glioma, which is the most common form of primary brain tumor ("primary" meaning that it originated in the brain rather than from metastasized cells that came from elsewhere in the body). That's a broad category with a lot of different types, and we'll know in a few days what type we're dealing with specifically. He was pleased with the surgery results and said he took out as much of the tumor as he could without incurring too much risk. The tumor was about the size of a large plum.

He reminded her that they call her a patient because that's what she needs to be: patient. Her recovery of verbal and motor skills will take some time, and she'll need a few days in acute rehab before heading home.

She nodded, looked him in the eye, and said, "I'll do it. I'll be fine. I'll do it."

Friday in the ICU

Mom did well for her first night in the ICU. She has her own room, and there's a sliding glass door to shut out some of the usual ICU commotion. She was able to sleep fairly well, waking up occasionally in need of water. I stayed beside her in a chair, and it seemed to me that they bothered her less in the ICU than they did on the regular floor.

As the nurse says, "she has her wits about her," but her ability to recall words and dates is not great at the moment. She can lift her arms and legs, which is fantastic. Without a doubt, Mom is an extremely tough lady to have made it through the last 24 hours, and we're so proud of her for being a fighter.

Mom will stay in the ICU today, and visitation is immediate family only to keep her as healthy as possible. We'll keep updating the blog and Facebook, and everyone is welcome to contact us anytime. Once she moves to a regular room, we'll let everyone know.

In the ICU

Mom is out of surgery, stable and resting in the ICU. She has nice pink cheeks and even cracked a joke:

"I think they shot me."

Biopsy results and prayers

Mom went into the OR around 1 pm today, and they let us know that the biopsy was done around 3:30 pm. The results are in, and unfortunately it's not what we hoped. The brain tumor is malignant and growing, so they have moved immediately into brain surgery. She'll be in the OR for another several hours (the surgeon estimated 5-6 hours.)

We'll keep the blog updated as we learn more. For now, please continue the prayers, good karma, warm thoughts, and happy memories coming.

Our mom is the center of our whole universe, and we're all praying for the very best.

Biopsy Day

A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.
Eleanor Roosevelt

It's biopsy day, and we've been waiting more or less patiently since the hospital staff first woke Mom for her MRI this morning at about 6:15 am. (So much for 7:30 am, which is what we were told.) She has been sleeping on and off since then. They should come get her for surgery prep around noon. Her neurosurgeon (a native German who speaks with a charming combination German-and-Texan twang) said he won't even need to shave her head for the biopsy. Mom's dreams of a punk rock 'do will have to wait.

Unfortunately Mom has been feeling the effects of her illness, steroids and anti-seizure medications a lot today; she's very groggy and has lost feeling in her right arm. She can still move it and was able to walk a little, though, so we're just monitoring her closely for now. She's trying to be upbeat, but it's very hard to see her lose any ground.

One interesting phenomena about this experience is that once we became aware of the brain tumor, suddenly we heard of many people in our lives who experienced the same illness (and survived), and we now read about news stories or research findings. It's like God pulls these stories of hope together and sends them our way, just when we need them most.

Today I saw news that my colleagues at Brown University created a living 2-D model of a brain tumor to better understand how to design a cure:

Researchers make living model of brain tumor | Brown University News and Events

And according to Twitter, today is Brain Tumor Thursday. Coincidence or divine intervention? Either way, it's not a fun holiday, but it's designed to raise awareness and funds for research. If you're so inclined, consider giving a donation towards research and awareness; two reputable and well-run charities are:

• American Brain Tumor Association (located down the street from my house in Chicago!)
• Pediatric Brain Tumor Foundation (located in Mom's home state of North Carolina)

As always, thank you for keeping Mom in your thoughts and prayers today.

Finally, a date

Mom's biopsy is scheduled for Thursday around noon or 1 pm. She is the surgeon's second operation, so her start time will depend on the person ahead of her in line.

This is a routine procedure, or as the surgeon said, "boring." He'll drill a small hole, take a sample from the center of the tumor, wait for Pathology to confirm the sample is enough to test, and then close her up with two stitches.

We are happy to finally be on our way. Please continue the prayers and ask God to guide us to a good outcome tomorrow.

Conversations with Mom

We'll keep a running tally of Mom's malapropisms, so she can look back and giggle at them later.

2/14, discussing Valentine's gifts:

Jennifer: "I got a box of chocolates from Hot Chocolate! I should have brought them in to share them with you."
Mom: "Mmm. You got a box of hot chickens? NO. Not chickens. Hot...chickens?"
Jennifer: "Yep, I got a box of hot chickens. They're delicious."


(Giggles ensue.)

2/15, reading a sign that says "Nurses":

Mom: "Nuisances. No! Not nuisances."
A nurse, passing by: "That's okay. We're sometimes that, too."
Mom: "Nudie nurses? No. NURSES. Geez." 

Day Six

Mom's feeling really tired today. If you'd like to stop by and visit (and she'd love to see you), please call us first to make sure she's not sleeping. We welcome calls, emails and texts - the outpouring of support has been fantastic and uplifting.

Sara's cell: 650-485-9211

My funny Valentine

No one wants to spend Valentine's Day in a hospital bed - least of all Mom, who always celebrates the holiday with cards for her daughters and beautiful flowers (usually pink) from Daddy.

We still tried to make it festive with two cuddly teddy bears (one Carolina blue), a heart balloon, a heart garland to decorate the white walls, and cards dripping with sentiment and glitter. Mom had a steady stream of visitors today as well, and she received wonderful gifts from her thoughtful friends and students. We took some photos and will get those online tomorrow.

Charm school for girls

Jennifer and I were lucky enough to spend some time with our sweet nieces this evening, and we took them out to dinner at the Dixie House Cafe. ("Home of the BIG BUNS.") Who knew five delicate young ladies could pack away so much chicken fried steak and chicken, mashed potatoes, fried okra, green beans and rolls as big as my face?

Of course, we celebrated our accomplishment with desserts of banana pudding, chocolate cream pie, and double fudge cake with walnuts.

The family that stays together, overeats together.




I've always been a stress eater, so I fully expect to gain a few (dozen) pounds on this trip home. There's something about a trip to Sonic for junk food that makes me feel better. They should have named that famous book "Chicken Strips for the Soul." That would have been more realistic.

I need a muumuu.

One final Valentine's thought

Frank Sinatra's My Funny Valentine always struck me as too sad to be a proper love song. I listened to it tonight, though, and I think it fits well. Love isn't always sunshine and roses. Sometimes it isn't so beautiful, and sometimes it doesn't sound quite right. But even then - or maybe especially then - true love makes each day a Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentine's Day, Mom.

The love floods in

Mom's "other daughter" and fellow teacher Mary Thornton.

Daddy spent Sunday night with Mom in her hospital room, holding her hand and watching "Downton Abbey" on PBS. Being in a hospital gives us free rein to indulge in guilty pleasures, like soapy British television, endless cups of chai tea latte from Starbucks, and cherry limeades and tater tots from Sonic. Best-case scenario at the end of this adventure, we'll be minus one brain tumor and plus ten pounds (each).

We're amazed and grateful for all the love flooding Mom's way, from family to friends and colleagues. We even have visitors to the blog from countries all over the world, including the U.S., Canada, Australia, Uruguay, Germany and Israel. Mom loves the comments and jokes. Keep them coming! They bring welcome smiles to all of us.

In person, Mom has seen several visitors over the weekend and today, and we started trying to take notes on who's visited and take a photo of each. Your prayers and kindness are much appreciated and lift her spirits up high.

What we know

The mass in Mom's brain is about an inch all the way around (1"x1"x1"). That's about the side of your pinky finger from the middle to top knuckle. It's on the left side and near the surface, which the doctor says is great news for the biopsy because it will be easier to reach.

The biopsy has yet to be scheduled because the OR is currently booked. (Someone needs to tell those other sick people to back off, so we can get this show on the road.)

In the meantime, the steroids are doing their job well, and Mom's motor abilities and language are much better than they were on Friday or Saturday. Today she had a little trouble verbalizing her SSN, but she could write it down clearly. She also signed her name, which she wasn't able to do on Friday. We cheer her on every time she shows improvement.

If there's no biopsy tomorrow, please feel free to stop by or call and visit. (Thanks for keeping visits fairly short so that she has some time to rest; it's remarkable how often nurses and doctors stop by for this test or that, and therefore Mom has had only short periods of sleep since Friday.) We'll let you know here and on Facebook once the biopsy is scheduled.

A thank-you to friends

We'll have a big job of writing thank-you notes after this adventure, because so many family and friends have sent their best wishes. Mom has a room full of beautiful flowers, bears and cards, and today she was entertained by a regular stream of visitors.

Anne Darr and Mom, wearing a prayer shawl handmade by Anne's mother-in-law.

There's a lot of paperwork in hospitals.

Cute little Eric visits his friend Judy.

Mom reads a letter from one of her students.

She was tickled by the card featuring a sketch of her brain.

Get-well cards from students in Mom's 8th-period class.

God sent us a beautiful Texas sunset.

The first days

MC and Grandma get some cuddle time.

What happened

On Wednesday and Thursday, February 8-9, Mom taught in her classes as usual and noticed she had a little trouble finding the right words. Her students noticed as well, and she laughed it off with them, calling it "just a brain fart." (Her usual 8th-grade-friendly term for forgetfulness.)

On Friday morning, Mom woke and got ready for school as usual, and she noticed on the drive in to work that she was confused about the route (a drive she's done daily for 23 years). Thankfully, she arrived safely, but when she met her friends Tonya, Brandi, and a student for the morning preparations, she had trouble drinking her customary morning Starbucks coffee and wasn't able to type in her computer passcode. (She remembered it, but she wasn't able to make her hands type it in.) Her friends realized right away that her motor skills and speech were not normal, so they notified Alicia. Tonya drove Mom straight to the ER.

At the hospital

Mom was admitted quickly and given a CAT scan within 30 minutes, which revealed swelling in the brain. Later an MRI showed a large mass on the left side of her brain, which is the side controlling speech, vision and motor abilities of the right side of her body. This explains the affected speech and hand movements. Her vision is unaffected, thankfully.

Later Mom met her neurosurgeon, Soren Singel. He described the plan for the days ahead: he will do a biopsy of the tumor once the swelling reduces, and he then will determine what the mass is and what steps would be appropriate to treat it.

Mom later described her neurosurgeon as a very handsome man with two young children. He gave her his cell number and said he would be there to answer any questions at any time of day, which makes him okay in our book.

What happened next

Daddy returned from a short business trip and went immediately to the hospital. Alicia alerted Sara and Jennifer in California around 8:15 am Pacific time on Friday, and they were on a flight by 1:30 pm and in Texas by 6:30 pm. Peter arrived on Saturday, with Zoe the cat in tow. Charles and Macklin are in California and keeping tabs on Grandma through video chats and phone calls.

The family is supporting Mom and entertaining her with books, cards, and Facebook (of course!) in her room at Harris Methodist HEB. She's surrounded by flowers, teddy bears, bottles of silky lavender-scented lotion and Starbucks cups. Each night one of us takes a turn sleeping on the surprisingly comfortable fold-out couch next to her.

Why "brain tuna?"

Mom's command of language is shaky, due to the pressure the tumor puts on the region of her brain controlling speech. She gets many words correct, though she occasionally stutters. Sometimes the words are not quite right, and she often finds a way to be understood anyway.

She still has a sense of humor, of course, and sometimes she makes a verbal faux pas that's downright funny. So instead of a brain tumor, she said she has a brain tuna.

And then there was the time her nurse (a large man) introduced himself with a few jokes, saying, "I'm funny!"

"Yes," Mom smiled. "You're fatty."

So we think if laughter is the best medicine, it's all right to laugh.

How you can help

Mom loves messages on her wall or private messages through Facebook, and she would love to read comments and best wishes here on the blog. We'll post messages here when we know more about her condition and the plan for the coming days ahead.