Rare Sweet Evenings

Mother's Day - it's got to the the best holiday ever, I know all the mothers reading this agree!  We had a nice picnic dinner at the rehab center with Mom. The patio outside was sunny and the air was the perfect temperature, with a slight breeze that ruffled the napkins but didn't blow the pink flowered paper plates away after all the barbeque and fried okra were supped up.  Rare in Texas, a sweet evening like that with Mom enjoying time outside with her family.

Rarer especially since the treatments Mom has been receiving have fairly wiped out her energy. We were thinking this last round of Avastin (given a week ago Monday) was harder to take than the initial one, because Mom's lethargy has been profound and she's had a tough time completing her therapy without being exhausted. We may have found a new culprit though, contributing to the problem, which was confirmed last night.

Mom's sugar levels are sky high!  Ugh.  Finger pokes are now a mandatory appetizer before every meal...but this form of diabetes is something, thankfully, that's controllable and treatable.  I don't know the details, but we know the sugar levels are attributed to the steroids she's been taking for months now.  The steroids help reduce and maintain reduced swelling in her brain, but the goodness comes with some side effects and whacked out sugars is one of them.  

This afternoon after all therapies were completed, Mom had a nice hour of energy and wanted to go outside.  While she was wheeling herself down the hall, Sara showed up with Caroline, Catherine, and Mary Claire, backpack and lunch box laden, having just been picked up from school.  All of us walked/wheeled together to the front patio of the rehab facility, and sat in the shade chatting about little things, "Do I hear an airplane?" "Well that's a truck on the highway but it sounds as loud as an airplane!"  "Did you get rid of the ducks?" (in Mom and Dad's pool) "Yes, the big ugly blow up swan floating in the water seems to have done the trick."  Light casual conversation, nice and easy.  The girls played games in the yard around the tree, how many skips does it take from here to there, how many pirouettes, how fast can you sprint it?  A friend from church walked up to see her Grandma, it was nice to see her and introduce her to our extended family.  Mom seemed to enjoy the levity, the fresh air, as well as the change of pace and scenery.

And for scenery, let's just say there are some colorful characters at rehab. Accidents and disease surely don't discriminate.  I have no idea why this particularly colorful person was there, but he was at the right place at the right time.  As he walked up with his ratty hair, semi-toothless grin, tattooed arms, and well-worn guitar, my mother smiled up at him, and asked him if he was there to play a song.  

He said yes, sure he was.  And he stopped right there on the patio, strummed some chords, and started to sing in a raspy voice.  A voice well-seasoned with who knows what, experiences I doubt any of us share with him.  He wasn't there to see us, but he took the time out to make my mother happy by sharing a song.  The chorus of the song went something like this:

Like a drunk reaches for his bottle

like a crying baby reaches for his mama

like a tree reaches for the sky

I reach for you

I reach for you

Who was he reaching for?  I don't know.  I know who I was reaching for in that moment.  As tears came down my face, and my mother's eyes were welling up, the singer concluded his song, and he said, "I wrote that song a long time ago. But I wasn't sure until now just who I wrote it for. But I think I must have wrote it for you."  

And we thanked him, I think, at least I hope we did.  It's hard to remember this part, and he walked inside to visit who he had really come to visit and sing to, or with. 

How lucky we were to be sitting on that patio.  It was another rare sweet evening.  Mom's doctors have told us to look for and appreciate each moment together, and tonight was one worth remembering.

Rehab Center Thoughts & A Chemo Plan

When you're temporarily living in a rehabilitation center/nursing home, which, let's be honest, is a nursing home with a therapy room, you are drained of all energy.  The therapists at the center are excellent but the hours not in therapy drag on, and you're surrounded with people who are almost certain not on the same path to recovery that you are. All of us are carrying bags under our red, puffy eyes and our nerves are on edge.  All of should probably be on some kind of sleeping medicine, because I know it's been months that any of us have slept a full 8 hours without interruption, whether intentional or just restlessness.  I blame a lot of that on the center itself. Nothing "wrong" with it that I can pinpoint, but surely nowhere I'd ever want Mom to be for even a brief time.

So it's been hard to write Braintuna the last week, even though there is actually some interesting stuff going on.

Last week, Mom had an appointment at UT Southwestern Medical Center, probably the best brain care center in  North Texas.  We met with Dr. Elizabeth Maher, who provided almost an hour and a half of encouraging, supportive, friendly discussion. She shows Mom's scans (MRIs and CTs)  and she said confidently that this "cyst" is neither progressive nor dire.  Fabulous words for us to hear!  She said the scans indicated what 30% of patients with Mom's condition experience, leaking of the vessels in the tissue surrounding the cyst.  (She did not use the term tumor.)  The vessels are leaking water, and since the brain is enclosed by the skull which provides zero place for it to stretch out, the fluid pushes into the brain, temporarily squishing the pathways and connections, which is extending the negative impact to Mom's verbal and physical skills.  

The lucky thing about this is that a drug called Avastin works to slow the growth of those vessels so they don't leak water.  And the luckier thing is that Mom was already scheduled to start Avastin treatment after her 4 week rest period after radiation.  Dr. Maher recommended Mom take Avastin and temador.  The combination of these 2 drugs will relieve the fluid pressure and also block cell growth of new cancerous cells.  We are very hopeful for significant improvement after a few treatments like this.  I don't know yet how many infusions there will be, we'll update when we know that.

What we do know, however, is that Avastin itself is terribly expensive and it can't be distributed through the nursing home, so Mom is back at HEB hospital for the time being.  The surroundings at HEB are safely familiar, the nurses recognized us when we arrived, and I for one, felt oddly at home.  I know Mom can't be pleased with her new IV, since she's been off that for several weeks now.  Neither does she really like the bed that self adjusts pressure to avoid bed sores.  But she does like the bed with handles on the sides, that help her push up and shift herself around.  And she does like the Starbucks downstairs in the hospital, she enjoyed a nice hot chai latte that Sara and Macklin brought her this afternoon.  

Strange to feel better at a hospital, where people are really sick, than at a nursing home, where most people are not really sick.  I think that again speaks to the health care problem in America. I feel so sad for the people in the nursing home who had no family or friends come by. It was rare that we saw anyone outside our own family visiting, and we had literally moved into the place, and had ample opportunity.  I'd like for the  lonely folks to have a fresh smelling, private room and bathroom, rooms with showers in them, doors with push/pull instead of turn knobs, working call buttons in the bathrooms, air conditioners with clean filters, alarms that only go off in the event of a true emergency, and nurses who are 100% capable of assisting with lifting and physically caring for their patients.  (I think I'm developing a checklist for next time, if there is a next time, in a rehab center.)

I don't know what the next step is for Mom, but let's hope it's with a walker, right out of the hospital and into her own house.  Time, plus Avastin and Temodar, will help us get there.

Flight Planning

Mom and Daddy, best friends (2005)

My mother is a teacher. She helps stretch students' minds, introduces new concepts to them gently and carefully when the time is right, scripted to whatever the curriculum requires but mindful of their abilities. And when a student has a special circumstance, she works to make sure that student is always given their very best chance at success.

As a result, her kids love and respect her. The emails, blog comments, notes, valentines, huge post-it notes of simile and metaphor exercises are physical proof that one person's efforts to make a difference in the life of a child is returned (just go with me on these numbers) twenty eight-times-seven times 40 some years. My mother is loved by many people.

My father was a fighter pilot for many years, and he knows how to make awesome flying machines of defense help protect millions of people. He has protected our country and traveled the world helping others help themselves. He is a leader and a protector, and he is proud of and fierce in his vocation and avocation.

So these two soul-mates find themselves in a much earlier than anticipated experience, taking the next step in the glioblastoma experience. What to do after rehab.


What we have learned the past few days is quite incredible. We have all heard through political campaigns, news reports, magazine headlines, etc. that the healthcare system in our country is broken. And we are all here to tell you that through this week, we can sincerely say it is. It is a complete mess. What Medicare allows, what medical professionals offer, what patients need, and what guidance families need, has been a large disconnect, causing tears to flood cars at stoplights, unexpected overwhelming sadness in public places, loss of appetites, unfinished Starbucks coffees, and sleepless nights. It is as low as the feeling we had when we learned that Mom's cancer wasn't just bad, it was the worst it could be.

Be prepared was what Mom's neurosurgeon told us on that awful afternoon. That was a bad day. There have been several bad days since then, but our collective adjustment to the badness had, for me anyway, somewhat plateaued until this week.

Being discharged from the rehab hospital due to Medicare coverage restrictions meant we had to find a new place for Mom to stay while she continues to improve her skills with therapy. It was terribly difficult for us, because several of the therapists at the rehab hospital had really started to make excellent progress with Mom. She's much better at recalling the date and year, her birthdate, ALL of our names, names of friends and extended family. She can answer many of the speech therapist's questions with confidence, and if not that, with humor and a gentle wit.

Physical therapy and occupational therapy were making good headway as well; she had learned to scoot from her bed to a wheelchair using a firm wooden board, to "walk" herself in her wheelchair down the hall to the windows, to the puzzle table, to the therapy room. None of this was she able to do prior to entering rehab, and all of these skills had just started to really develop. So moving her out of rehab was really incomprehensible to us. A student just learning her lessons would never be given the test by Teacher Mom before she was ready. Yet that is the unchangeable situation we found ourselves in.

So enter Fighter Pilot Dad. With a passion few have ever seen, Dad took over with the speed and precision of his beloved F-16s. Go find a place for your mom, he said. I will stay with her here. So we did: Scott piloted and I navigated in the cockpit of our (aptly named) Explorer and visited two rehab/nursing homes in the morning, and I took two more than afternoon. Jennifer provided dispatch, flight control support, ground operations, and intelligence. Dad was the commanding officer at systems operations control, and we checked in often.

After post-flight meetings, we debriefed with plenty of reconnaissance yet achieved no resolution. Several hours later, after visiting nurses from the three acceptable rehab facilities had approved Mom's admission and transportation, we reconvened via conference call and chose our landing pattern and destination. Mission complete.

Putting this in sterile flight terms makes this an easier experience to talk about, because in reality it was nothing by the book, it was thinking of who can we trust our Mom with? Where is the best therapy for her? Who can be as good as the therapists Mom had started to develop with? Are we doing the right thing? When will she be ready to come home? That is the hardest question of all.

So with the decision made, Mom was settled in her new facility and room by early evening. She slept on and off, first night in a new place, lots of new sights, sounds, etc. Dad had his first night in a "real" bed since mid-February, having spent every single night right beside Mom in the sturdy-but-tight in the shoulders and frequently squeaky fold-out chair-beds provided in the multiple hospital rooms Mom has been assigned over the last 63 days.

This morning, both Jennifer and I arrived with Starbucks breakfast sandwiches, Greek yogurt for Mom and Daddy, and a latte for Dad. In all of yesterday's emotion, we forgot to check with each other who was going to take breakfast. We were all glad to be together, though; I think we subconsciously needed to see that we had all made it through the night. Although come to find out, none of us slept more than a few scant hours at a time.

After breakfast, Mom was assessed by the therapy groups, met the director of therapy services, and, at enormous relief to us all, likes them. And they like her. And they agree that they can help her. For now, the choice we made seems to be a satisfactory one.

So, perhaps at the future criticism from my Dad for my quote choice, I'm posting here a description of the F-16, from Wikipedia.

The F-16 is a single-engined, very maneuverable, supersonic, multi-role tactical aircraft. The F-16 was designed to be a cost-effective combat "workhorse" that can perform various kinds of missions and maintain around-the-clock readiness.

I think our family is a lot like this. We are a single-minded, very maneuverable, supersonic (emotionally charged), multi-role tactical (family of) aircraft. The F-16 was designed to be a cost-effective (lunches at the rehab hospital were $3.50 a plate) combat (you betcha) "workhorse" (all of us, particularly Jennifer) that can perform various kinds of missions (you name it, we did it this week for Mom and Daddy) around-the-clock (Jennifer has been with Mom 12+ hours a day, Daddy for at least 48 hours straight with no breaks) readiness.

I am so thankful to be in a family that is strong enough to stick together in a really hard situation, smart enough to know the right thing to do, courageous enough to make the tough choices, and tender enough to let the tears come when they need to fall. I am proud to be the child of a teacher who cares with all her heart for all her children, and a pilot who will fight with all of his heart for what's best for Mom, and by proxy, for all of us.

Movin' on up!

...to a deeee-luxe apartment in the skyyy.

Well, not exactly deluxe, but we have moved into another rehab facility. Bear with us as we get settled in, up and running, and a little better rested. We'll post a full update soon, but rest assured, Mom is doing great. She's working hard (as always!), making new friends (again, as always!), and keeping the physical/occupational/speech therapists on their toes.

Love you, love you, love you, Mom and Daddy.

Sweet Treats

Easter 2012

Easter weekend - what a nice several days together! This was surely an Easter like no other we've had before, typically Mom cooks for 2-3 days ahead, has a long shopping list and menu written out on the kitchen counter, held in place by the plate rack and with a pen handy for last minute additions. Probably under the list there's a magazine picture and new recipe that she's including, just trying something different. Her house is always decorated with eggs and bunnies everywhere, beautiful little Easter decorations she has collected over the years, very familiar to all of us.

This Easter was a little different...she's looked through the magazines, she told us to get dinner catered so we didn't have to worry about it, but do go get some things for the girls, and please buy the girls new dresses and shoes.

Shopping for the girls was easy, not as much fun without her there for her spot-on opinion of what looks good, but the girls had new dresses and they looked so pretty. But cater Easter dinner? That's not in our vocabulary, easy as it would have been.

Jennifer and I split up the essentials of the meal and between the 2 of us had the ham, cherries (mom's favorite), scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole, crescent rolls, and cake. Not the traditional Italian creme cake that Mom's made for decades, but a Facebook-inspired Boston cream pie decorated by Mary Claire with a ring of Peeps on the outside. They stuck well to the chocolate, made cutting very easy. It was a pretty and fun ending to a simple but filling meal. Filling to the tummy as well as the spirit.

MC and the famous Peeps Pie

The Easter Bunny visited Dad with his favorite coconut, dark chocolate egg. Mom took a little bite, sensitive to the sweetness and her blood sugar levels (made high by the steroids she is on). Mom loved the egg, so did Dad. Mom said, "That thing must have 50 million calories!" but Dad checked and said it only had 120. Mom's reply? "We'll let's get another one, then!"

The girls enjoyed breaking the rules of no pictures on the walls of this hospital by decorating Mom's windows with the little plastic window decorations of Easter bunnies, the kind you get for $1.00 on sale at Walgreens. The brightness of the flowers and carrots and little bunnies brings cheer to the windows, and today looking out on the foggy morning, it brings continued smiles to the room. (and no one has told us to take them down yet, so up they stay!)

This Easter Monday, Mom has enjoyed Facebook posts, is reading a Southern Living magazine, and offered many thanks to the chef that just came in to take menu orders for tomorrow. As he was here, I found out yesterday that at 5am, Mom was craving a biscuit. She hadn't ordered it for breakfast...what to do...where to get a biscuit in a hospital with pre-ordered meals? Thankful for kind and resourceful nurses again, when Dad told the nurse of Mom's craving, she 'found' a biscuit and brought it right up! Many thanks to that chef and his delicious recipes every day, and especially for the biscuit that brought happiness to Mom yesterday!

A Working Lunch

KK helps Grandma with lunch and puzzles.

Adding a little more stretch to Mom's therapy every day, the PT this morning at 7:30 am came in at breakfast and asked if Mom had eaten yet.

"No, not yet."

"Okay, great! Today I want you to eat using your right hand!"

Mom bravely tried. Valiant efforts were made - success! It's so hard to learn new things. For the past several weeks, since recovering from surgery and adjusting to radiation, Mom has been able to eat many of her meals by using a spoon or fork in her left hand. Before Feb 10th, I'd be willing to say she's never eaten much out of her left hand, save for maybe a cracker and cheese while the right hand was holding a glass of chardonnay.

Lunch was a cheeseburger, tater tots, steamed carrots, and veggie beef soup. All but the soup is fairly easy to eat with your weaker hand, and Mom did a great job managing everything on her plate. Soup with the left hand though...give the poor right hand a break...soup is hard to eat without dripping even when you have a steady dominant hand!

All therapies went well today, we had Catherine along to help today, she was home from school with an upset tummy and, while not contagious, wasn't up to par and went to the doctor for a quick checkup. All clear there, she spent the afternoon helping Grandma with lunch, watching and discussing HGTV shows, and catching up on Facebook postings. Might be worth a playing hooky day for all the girls, they never get that kind of 1 on 1 time these days, and Catherine and Grandma really enjoyed their hours together. It was good for both of them, I think.

In group class, Mom found out one of her new friends has completed his treatments and is going home; another is scheduled to go home next Monday. It's a collective feeling of pride, joy, and hope for everyone in rehab to see a peer "graduate" from the program. We all know how they struggle, and the support they have for one another is quite motivational. They'll all make it, and one day it will be Mom's day to announce she's headed home!

But first, lots more working lunches ahead to get that right hand in the steady position. A wine glass and a chardonnay are ready and waiting!

Did you know I talk in sparkles?

Mom sparkles. She may as well use glitter shampoo, that's how much she shines here. Every nurse that comes in has a kind smile for Mom, and Alicia (the nurse, not the daughter) took particular care and attention with her this morning. She had a wonderful shower and shampoo, and then styled her hair carefully so that the side that has gotten very thin and sparse is covered nicely. We put in 2 colorful clips, and with the purple tshirt she's wearing today, Mom is as pretty as an Easter Egg this morning.

After 2 classes of 1-1 therapy, Mom had her group session right before lunch. In a crowd of probably 20 patients, Mom had a good class of stretches, hand weights, and leg lifts. The therapists are full of energy and spunk, and song! The final exercise, a march, started off with a military-type chant, "Left, left, left right left, left, left, left right left..." and ended with a rousing rendition of She's a Grand Old Flag.

After classes this morning, Mom had lunch and then speech therapy. With sweet Nikole, her therapist, we learned why it's important to work on memorizing words. Say, rose, pillow and heart, those are today's words and their corresponding clues.

1. Nikole point out that a rose is in Mom's room, it's pink, it smells good, it's beautiful, she is going to carry yellow roses in her upcoming wedding.
2. The pillow is small, pink, pretty, and Mom has 2 of them. Nikole has 5 of them.
3. The heart is a shape, it's on mom's quilt, it beats, it's the shape of a valentine.

The idea of these words are to say them now, then go to another topic of discussion, then recall those words 2, 5, and 10 minutes later. This is a lot harder than it sounds. Mom's responses, before saying the word, centralize on Nikole's upcoming wedding (which will definitely includes roses and hearts and a change of pillows!) and really "beat around the bush" instead of going to the target word. Fascinating how she completely understands what the word is but has trouble getting the single word out.

The reason this word-recall game is important, is that mom will be working on recalling more important things more easily, and practice on not-important words will make the important ones come more smoothly. So maybe we will all not be called "Granddaddy" one day. We all know he's her favorite person in the universe. If there was any doubt, just listen to her talk, everything she needs, jokes about, mentioned casually, struggles with...it's all about "Granddaddy." She does say all of our names now, but when our name doesn't come out right, we become "Granddaddy". :)

While Mom concentrates on her words, she frequently says "it's sparkles" or "I'm just talking sparkles" which probably is an accurate description of what's going on with her neurons and synapses, they are sparkling and trying to connect. Maybe one day we'll have a whole little firework-fest and all the right words will come out at the right time.

For now, one sparkle at a time, it's been a fun day.

So many things to be thankful for

Today was a good day for Mom, and as much as I'd like to write about the myriad activities that went on (and the good sleep that I hope she's getting), I'm beat. So before I fall asleep on the keyboard and end up posting a jumbled mess, I'd like to share a few things that seem to help anchor me in a positive frame of mind (hey, hey, hey -- mixed metaphor, and I didn't even try!).

Today, I'm thankful for:

1. My mother, and the fact that I can tell her anything. 
2. My father, his strength and resolve, his incredible love for mom and all his daughters and granddaughters and grandson, his sons-in-law and my significant other. Also, his tolerance for my cat, Zoe, who's been leaving downy tufts of Maine Coon fur all over the house (and she barely leaves the room she's staying in -- her fur is magical, I tell you). She's shedding her winter coat.
3. Physical therapists who restore Mom's confidence. I can't emphasize enough how important that is, and how much it means to all of us.
4. Mom's smile and cheerful "Good morning!" when I walk in the room after not having slept well the night before. When I hear her voice, I find my energy.
5. Our daytime CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant), Cherrina, who gave Mom a bath this evening with her favorite shower gel. It made the room smell a little more like home, which must be so comforting to someone who left for work on Feb. 10 and who hasn't yet returned home. How disconcerting that must be.
6. People in the health-care field who treat the people under their care with dignity, tenderness, and respect. We've met some real angels in the CNA realm (also, a few who are still working on earning their wings). Having a good CNA assigned to you can make your day go by so smoothly.
7. My older sister and my nieces, who brought us ice cream late this afternoon. We ate it before dinner. It was good. And we didn't finish dinner. Oh, well, who cares? Mom was happy, and that makes us all happy. Enough said.
8. Actually, not enough said: The ice cream was a special treat indeed for Mom. She loved it.
9. My younger sister, who called Mom using FaceTime this evening. So many smiles!
10. Cards! Mom really enjoys getting cards from her friends and family. It seems like an average of 2 cards arrive each day, and we read them to her during her breaks from speech, physical, and occupational therapy.
11. Our incredible extended family in North Carolina. They don't make families better, stronger, and closer than us. I just wish we weren't so far away.
12. Mom's occupational therapist, Mike, who outfitted her wheelchair with a special foam wedge that keeps Mom's right shoulder propped up. Should've had that a month ago!
13. The time I'm able to spend with Mom. It's not enough -- it will never be enough -- but, boy, am I grateful for having this time right now.
14. Peter. He's my rock. He makes everything better just by being there (even when "there" is 1,700 miles west of where I am right now).
15. Zoe the cat, who keeps me company at night, when the darkness threatens to swallow me whole.
16. The duck couple that built a nest (complete with four or five eggs!) in Mom's flower garden. The 200 billion Texas bluebonnets sprucing up the roads right now. The riot of colors in Mom's rose garden. Shiny, happy daffodils. Friends and family. Spring.

Bluebonnets in front of Marshall Grain Co.

M is for Misty Eyes

The past two days have flown by for Mom, compared to the long, draining days at the acute hospital, the days here at rehab are filled with activities that she looks forward to with eager anticipation. A combination of physical and occupational therapy, sometimes 1-on-1, sometimes in a group setting, and speech therapy are working wonders for our favorite Teacher of the Year.

Group therapy is a lot of fun; the people in the group have various levels of ability, but they share a common interest in improving their skills, and the therapists here create a positive atmosphere for everyone. Today, they played a game where they passed around a large ball, and every person who had the ball had to name a letter as well as animal whose name begins with that letter. E - Elephant, D - Dog, you get the idea. Mom enjoyed this activity, Dad said he could tell she was trying to get an animal for every single letter, you could see her brain working all over her face. Very cool.

Speech therapy is uncovering so many interesting things that we never realized. For example, we know Mom has been struggling with remembering numbers and months of the year. But what we understood today for the first time is that the month she skips, when saying them in succession, is that she always skips February. January..March..April..May. etc. But not February. Can you guess why? If you had the February she has just completed, would you want to erase it from memory? Things that make you go hmmmm.

Today's dinner choices were trout almondine or an egg salad sandwich. Neither are considered A-list meals by Mom. But she's a sport, she'll try the trout. Two bites of it, actually, and then pretty vehemently said things like "Why did they bring that?" "Why would anyone want that?" "I don't even want to look at that." Thank heavens for the steamed squash and zucchini, veggie beef soup with rice, and rice pilaf. Next time these main course are on the menu, we'll be bringing Mom a dinner from outside, thankyouverymuch.

Teary moments - the granddaughters were in Mom's room doing homework and playing on laptops with Jennifer. Mary Claire's assignment was to write sentences from her spelling words. She was working hard, pencil in hand, sun shining through the window like a halo behind her blonde hair, freckled nose wrinkled up with concentration, and looking like a student 6 years younger than Mom's kids at school...but very much reminding her of all of them. Mom got misty and commented how much she loves watching kids learn, and took a long moment to process those feelings and thoughts. So many hundreds of students are in those memories, lucky kids, all of them. I feel so lucky that my kids could do their homework with her today.

One thing that no one was looking forward was Sara's return to California yesterday. It was a long misty moment for all of us. What an incredible blessing it is to have sisters like her and Jennifer, who each packed up a small bag of clothes on February 10th and ran onto a plane within 5 hours of getting word that Mom was being hospitalized. They have been by Mom's side practically every minute of every day since, and they are perfect examples of understanding the big picture, and being courageous in their decisions and of doing the right thing. Big huge enormous props to Charles and Macklin, and Peter, too, for making it work. You are all awesome.

First day of therapy

Mom is wearing regular clothes
to her first group therapy session.
Good-bye hospital gown!

Mom's new schedule is very active! For someone just out of the hospital, she sure is working hard.

• 8 am - breakfast
• 9 am - relax, enjoy coffee and visiting
• 10 am - shower (a real one! yay!), get dressed and brush teeth
• 11 am - group therapy
• Noon - lunch
• Sometime between 1 pm and 5 pm - another 1.5 hour therapy session and a nap
• 5 pm - dinner (the food is good - a real chef works here!)
• 6-8 pm - hang out and enjoy visiting with family and friends, watch the sunset
• ~8:30 pm - zonk out from sheer exhaustion

Somewhere in there she's also getting about 8 pills and 4 doses of steroids over the course of the day. The steroids are making her face and feet swell (you can tell in the photo), but that will go away once we can reduce the steroids.

Several folks have asked where they can reach Mom - she's at:

Judy Worrell
c/o Reliant Mid-Cities
2304 State Highway 121
Bedford, TX 76021

Or you can mail cards to our house, and we'll bring them to her. She now has a full album of cards and pictures! We read her Facebook and blog messages to her every day, too, and she loves hearing from everyone.

Thanks again for all of your support!

Healing power of love

The New York Times published a great article on new research showing the link between love and healing.

Opinionator: The Brain on Love by Diane Ackerman

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/24/the-brain-on-love/

During idylls of safety, when your brain knows you’re with someone you can trust, it needn’t waste precious resources coping with stressors or menace. Instead it may spend its lifeblood learning new things or fine-tuning the process of healing.

We've certainly found this to be true with Mom. She's never alone and is surrounded by loving family, friends and community at all times, and her body is working hard to heal. She's learning new things every day and making new connections in the brain all the time. Today she read a little from a magazine and practiced reading the clock - reciting her numbers is much better than last week.

On to rehab

After Thursday's disappointing MRI results, it took a little while for us to catch our breath and start focusing forward again. It's hard not to think about the future, and we know that we have a lot to be thankful for in the present. Everything feels a little easier to bear if we only think about today and what's happening in this moment.

Graduation Day

Friday was a big day: Mom graduated from radiation therapy and left the hospital! She was presented with a graduation certificate signed by the Edwards Cancer Center staff for completing her prescribed course of radiation therapy with courage, strength and a positive attitude. And then, back in her room, she was transferred to a wheelchair and rolled out of room 210 for good, and the oncology unit staff on duty stood in the hallway cheering and hugging Mom as she left for the rehab hospital. After 44 days at Harris Methodist HEB, Mom had made many friends in the oncology ward, and it was touching to see how happy and proud they were to see her move on to rehab. We took a few photos and will add them to this post soon.

Friday night and Saturday were all about settling into her new room at Reliant Mid-Cities Rehabilitation Hospital. She had a great day today, and there are a lot of things we like about the new facility. (So far the food is great!) When we're a little more clear-headed, we'll add a few stories and photos. Also, Mom does not have therapy on Sundays, so tomorrow is a nice quiet day; other days of the week will bring an aggressive schedule of therapy (1.5 hours in the morning and again in the afternoon), so she'll be busy - she's excited and ready for it.

For now, we're enormously thankful to have Mom out of the acute hospital and into a place that's quiet, bright and cheerful, where she can start rebuilding her muscles and improving her speech so she can come home to us as soon as possible.

Strength does not come from physical capacity.
It comes from an indomitable will. - Mahatma Gandhi