Still in ICU

Mom and Jennifer

 
Mom is still in the ICU, being monitored closely for signs of whether the bleeding on the left side of her colon is continuing. Yesterday's not fun test failed to locate the exact source of the bleeding, so that was disappointing. On the other hand, her heart rate remains steady and in normal ranges; it goes up when there's active bleeding. So maybe the GI bleed is healing on its own. We are all praying that is the case, and that Mom can eat real food soon.

It's been a week of broth and water. It's torture to go without food; at some point it's all the body can think about. This morning Mom asked for "just some crackers," as though maybe we would grant her wishes if she didn't ask for too much. It was heartbreaking.

Today the pulmonary fellow and her team at UT-Southwestern are planning another test to view Mom's colon and small intestine, hoping to see signs of healing to indicate whether the bleeding is resolving on its own. We're hopeful this one finally shows us what's going on (or what was going on). One bright spot is that she'll get sleep during the procedure.

We continue to pray for our Mom, for the healing of her body and for some peace of mind to allow her to rest.

Update at 6:50 pm CST: Mom now is allowed to eat soft foods, so she's enjoying a bowl of applesauce, and if that goes well, she'll soon enjoy some soup and some chocolate pudding. Thank goodness!

Mrs. Muleshoe

When Mom is laying flat, between procedures, feeling and hearing gurgles in her tummy and worried about what's next...when none of us have words that will help because we just don't know what to do...what do you do besides feel helpless?  Sit and be quiet and wipe a tear from her eye, readjust the cables that seem to all lump up under her chin to under the blanket, knowing they will creep up again but this one tuck might make a difference...  The snake's den of cables rivals what's in Dad's computer room.  What can you do?

You can thank God for sending you the little lady from Muleshoe, Texas, whose husband is in ICU, to sit by you and chat.  Surrounded on both sides by 20+ members from a coughing, raucous-talking, tattooed and pregnant, and recently surgically-released family of someone in the ICU, she and I sat for a while today and just chatted quietly.  We decided that those 20 people, minus the 4 small children with them, probably didn't have jobs.  We weren't very kind in our behind-the-magazine-so-they-don't-see-us-being-snippy talk.  They probably didn't even know we were there, so caught up in their family reunion they were.  I'm sure their strength and volume will help heal their loved one.  Lots of love in that family evident from their vocal superiority.

Mrs. Muleshoe was a nice lady, and we bonded.  And she planted a seed in my head of a memory that Mom might like to revisit.  So that's how we helped pass the time before the GI team came in for their procedure this afternoon...which they are doing right now so I can't blog about that...but I wanted to keep this story fresh because it was fun.

From 1973 - 1979, we lived in Clovis, New Mexico. Back then, Clovis had a Kmart and a Sears, a Tankersley's dress and shoe shop, and I think a Rutherford's shoe store, which was beside the jewelry store where where Mom, Jennifer and I got our ears pierced in 1979.  Except for Kmart, which was closer to our house, all these stores were on Main Street, a brick-paved street that I marched in with my brownie troop during Christmas parades.   That's about all you need to know about Clovis.  That, the barber shop and the A&W drive in, and you've got the whole city covered in the mid 1970's. 

Partially due to the lack of variety, and definitely due to the need to get out of town, each year when we needed new school clothes, we drove to Lubbock, Texas.  They had a mall there. I loved going to Lubbock.  I remember being squished in the back of our gold 1978 Honda Accord coupe, the first year they were available (in Clovis anyway).  That was a great car.  I remember driving past the best barbecue place in town that had the paper towels and white bread loaves on the picnic tables inside, past the motels and car dealerships, past the back of the Welcome to New Mexico sign, which of course I always turned back around to see, and to Texaco, New Mexico. Then, bump bump bump across the railroad tracks to the VERY EXCITING STATE of Texas. 

Farwell, Texas led to Muleshoe, Texas (here's the memory seed) where there was a Dairy Queen (or similar place, I remember it as a DQ but Dad says he doesn't...I think he doesn't remember because he never stopped and I remember because I asked him to every single time) and a statue of a mule.  It was a very big deal to drive through Muleshoe. 

So I asked Mom today, what did we pass when we drove from Clovis to Lubbock? In a little town after Texaco and Farwell?  She remembered with a real smile, "The horse!" she said. Close enough, it's a very horse-looking mule.  I asked what else is in Muleshoe?  She thought quietly and shook her head..."Nothing."  "Well, that's true, but there are 2 distinct other things in Muleshoe. One of them is cows.  And what comes with cows?"  "I don't know."  "Flies."  "Oh yea, there sure were lots of flies." Her face relaxed, she was really remembering driving with all of us piled into that car.  She was with me in the car...

Fast forward to the mall at Lubbock.

Me "What did we always get to eat in Lubbock, something we only got at the mall, and we loved it so much? There are 2 things specifically."

Mom, seriously thinking, relaxed face, eyes closed, "I don't remember...at the mall?"

Me "Here's a clue...it's a color, you drink it..."

Mom "I don't know...tell me."  (several rounds of clues)

Me "Orange Julius"

Mom, completely relaxed now, big grin, eyebrows raised "Oh yes, Orange Julius! That was so good!"

We walked the same walk with Hickory Farms, remembering how we always snacked on the beef stick samples and the Havarti cheese.  Then we talked about the big fat pretzels with the white rock salt on it.  And we talked a bit about Red Lobster, where Jennifer lost a tooth on a saltine cracker, and where to this day none of us can go without re-telling that story  

We walked the walk through the campsite where we would for a very special occasion go camping in our Midas Mini Motorhome, white with a orange stripe and orange/green shag carpet inside.  We saw in our  minds the little prairie dog town that I remember loving so much, watching those cute little animals play and play.  

It was a little 20 minute chat, probably not more than that, but a nice walk sharing memories with Mom.  It reminded us of happy, carefree times.  A little mental break from the physical difficulties of today. 

A flood of memories, thanks to a chance encounter with the little lady from Muleshoe.

Back in the ICU

We're in sadly familiar territory today, the ICU.  Different hospital, much larger facility.  Same level of anxiety and stress as before.

Mom has had a few blood transfusions as the doctors here try to figure out what is causing her to bleed.  We've learned that a GI bleed is a difficult problem to resolve, it bleeds, it stops, it bleeds again with no regularity or pattern.  For most tests, during the test there has not been a bleed, so resolution has been impossible.

Last night Mom was moved from a normal room to the ICU because in addition to hemoglobin counts going down, her heart rate was going up, which meant the bleed was active. They took her to the nuclear medicine facility here and did another tagged red blood cell count, and this time they found a general area where the bleeding is.  After a trip back up to the ICU, and considering the next steps, they took mom for an angiogram where if the bleed was still active, they could seal it off.  

As luck would have it, the persnickety bleed stopped and the angiogram was ineffective.  The stint was left in her artery, though, and the plan is to try later this afternoon, hopeful for success.

The GI staff here, in the meantime, is going to try their hand at resolution, now that the general area has been more defined.  We are hopeful for their success.  

In between these treatments, Mom has had her mediport wound repacked and dressed, and has had a central line put in.  Neither of those procedures were pain free.  My heart breaks for the strength required to get through those.  Not one but two such procedures within 2 hours.  That strength is amazing.  You know, after so many years of teaching wonderful talented and/or horribly mannered junior and high school students has steeled her reserve, so that now she can focus and concentrate on managing the pain, like she has managed the hundreds of hormonal children through her career. Quite a special woman.

I'm sending another plea for those of us who are able, to please donate blood.  I've seen how it helps Mom, and there are lots of other moms and dads here who are using it too.  

Please also pray for my dad, who is trying his best today.  I was thinking earlier than ICU for recovery from brain surgery was hard.  This may be worse, the not knowing how or when it will be fixed.  There's a lot of fear of the unknown, and taking the day one minute at a time.  

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.

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.

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."