Tonight's post is encouraging ... many good reports from today.
Test results were good (I didn't get specifics, but to know that they were good.) Dad is still on the ventilator, but the nurse said that every patient is different and he'll come off when it's right for him. (Let Oklahoma State get ahead by a touchdown or two, and that might give him some impetus!)
They are gradually lowering his sedative (replacing it with morphine to keep him comfortable) so we can move toward getting him off the ventilator. The pulmonary specialist once again turned the ventilator into a mode that let Dad do more of the work on his own, and Dad did better this go-around than before.
His pupils are reacting to light quicker than before, and that's another good sign. Also, today he started trying to roll over onto his right side (his favorite sleeping position) on his own. Once the staff came in and helped him on to his side, Mom said he seemed to be much more comfortable. (After being on your back for a few days, we all would!)
He ran a slight fever today around 101.2, but they treated it with Tylenol. He's on an antibiotic as well, and the fever appeared to react favorably to the Tylenol. He still shows good strength on his left side, raising the left arm, but not as much movement on his right side as before.
All in all ... many good things reported today from the staff. We're all in town for the weekend, so we'll keep you all posted.
Additionally ... Dad's nurse today revealed that she's a dedicated Bulldog fan. We can just imagine that very time she called to him, "George, can you hear me? Can you hear me?" that he was thinking in reply "Go DAWGS!"
Friday, August 31, 2007
Day 7: Lunchtime
It's been a full week since Dad fell. In some ways, it seems like yesterday, but then you begin to think what all we've experienced in a week, and it seems much longer. Your words of encouragement and prayers are tremendous and we thank you for that.
Dad is neurologically holding at about the same spot. We will probably hear more later today about the test results. He was put through the ringer this morning, but with some good things in addition to the tests. He's been bathed and shampooed, teeth brushed, and everything changed from head to foot. Even when you're sedated, that's got to feel better.
Also, the pulmonary specialist once again pulled back on the ventilator to let Dad try and do some of the work on his own, and Dad apparently did better this go around than the last time. I think they are going to continue to try and wean him off slowly. They raise and lower his sedation level to help keep him rested until his body is ready to start taking over again.
Dad is neurologically holding at about the same spot. We will probably hear more later today about the test results. He was put through the ringer this morning, but with some good things in addition to the tests. He's been bathed and shampooed, teeth brushed, and everything changed from head to foot. Even when you're sedated, that's got to feel better.
Also, the pulmonary specialist once again pulled back on the ventilator to let Dad try and do some of the work on his own, and Dad apparently did better this go around than the last time. I think they are going to continue to try and wean him off slowly. They raise and lower his sedation level to help keep him rested until his body is ready to start taking over again.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Day 6: Evening
Nothing much new to report. The evening shift was going to give Dad some morphine as he was somewhat restless. He's scheduled for a battery of tests tomorrow, which should give us an indication of our progress toward coming off the respirator. If his test results are good, they will start to get more aggressive toward getting him off the "tube." Mom said that Dad had been shaved and that the respiratory therapist had come in and retaped the respirator tube, so he looked real good with plenty of color in his face, etc.
Mom also said that the first responder from last Friday stopped by to check in on Dad ... we have been so very impressed with everyone we have been in contact with and are very fortunate to have Dad in St. Mary's for treatment. Doctors, ICU and NCCU staff, ER folks ... they have all been just top notch.
And thanks to everyone for their comments and words of encouragement on the blog and via other communication methods ... they mean a lot to us!
Mom also said that the first responder from last Friday stopped by to check in on Dad ... we have been so very impressed with everyone we have been in contact with and are very fortunate to have Dad in St. Mary's for treatment. Doctors, ICU and NCCU staff, ER folks ... they have all been just top notch.
And thanks to everyone for their comments and words of encouragement on the blog and via other communication methods ... they mean a lot to us!
Day 6: Lunchtime
More word from the charge nurse in NCCU ... Dad didn't have a CT scan this morning. We're taking that as his condition is stable enough not to warrant a daily scan. They have cut his sedation in half, so we're working on letting him slowly come back. In Skeeter's words (and confirmed by the NCCU nurse), it is as if we're finally getting to the edge of the darkest part of the woods. That's encouraging!
Skeeter also got word from a reliable source at St. Mary's that we were in FANTASTIC hands with Dr. Semenoff, both in terms of skill and how he handles his patients and their families. We had made that determination ourselves, but it's a blessing to get confirmation from another source.
Skeeter also got word from a reliable source at St. Mary's that we were in FANTASTIC hands with Dr. Semenoff, both in terms of skill and how he handles his patients and their families. We had made that determination ourselves, but it's a blessing to get confirmation from another source.
Day 6: A.M.
Mom said she got an encouraging report from the attending neurosurgeon this morning ... another doctor in the same practice as Dr. Semenoff. Dad remains stable. The nurse indicated that he seems to keep his eyes open a little longer each time. He's not fully conscious, but he's peeping out every now and then to see what's going on, I suppose.
They tried to cut back on the ventilator either late yesterday or last night, but said that it seemed to tire him out too much, so they have increased it back this morning. All in all, he's holding his own.
They tried to cut back on the ventilator either late yesterday or last night, but said that it seemed to tire him out too much, so they have increased it back this morning. All in all, he's holding his own.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Day 5
No bad news is good news to us!
Today, they did not have Dad on a diuretic, because it apparently did what they wanted it to do yesterday. The CT scan did not show any additional swelling, which is also good. We are about at the point in time where the swelling would be at it's peak and we're looking for it to begin to subside. So from that standpoint, we're holding at the mark and ready to come back down.
Dad continues to move in his bed ... raising his knees and lowering them every so often. He will turn his head back and forth, and sometimes open his eyes slightly. He is still sedated until the swelling is on it's way down, and he still moves his hands in a manner indicating he is aware of the ventilator and would prefer to remove that tube!
A physical therapist visited today to keep those limbs moving, and will be showing some exercises that can be conducted with his hands and arms, even when he is sedated, to keep the limbs moving.
So we will post another update tomorrow. Again, we appreciate everyone being willing to help us out with observing the "No Visitors" rule for us ... it just makes it easier for Mom to focus on Dad, and for the doctors and nurses to get done what they need to get done. Your online comments (which you can add below) and reassurances of prayer and encouragement are all we really need at this stage.
On a humorous note, a fine colleague of mine here at The Coca-Cola Company called his church to request a mass in honor of Dad for healing. You can imagine how incredulous this sounded when he made the call to the church office. (And this is all truthful, yet paraphrased here.)
"Yes, hello ... this is Jimmy Carter. I would like to request a mass please."
"Jimmy Carter? OK. [Pause] And what is the name of the individual you're requesting a mass for?"
"George Bush."
"Ah-hah ... ok, we'll let you know."
Well, indeed my colleague is named Jimmy Carter, and he eventually got a call from one of the church leaders telling him that he had the church up in arms over a "Jimmy Carter" calling in to request a mass for "George Bush." Of course, he had to confirm to the secretary that indeed there was a Jimmy Carter in their congregation, and that this was not a prank call!
Today, they did not have Dad on a diuretic, because it apparently did what they wanted it to do yesterday. The CT scan did not show any additional swelling, which is also good. We are about at the point in time where the swelling would be at it's peak and we're looking for it to begin to subside. So from that standpoint, we're holding at the mark and ready to come back down.
Dad continues to move in his bed ... raising his knees and lowering them every so often. He will turn his head back and forth, and sometimes open his eyes slightly. He is still sedated until the swelling is on it's way down, and he still moves his hands in a manner indicating he is aware of the ventilator and would prefer to remove that tube!
A physical therapist visited today to keep those limbs moving, and will be showing some exercises that can be conducted with his hands and arms, even when he is sedated, to keep the limbs moving.
So we will post another update tomorrow. Again, we appreciate everyone being willing to help us out with observing the "No Visitors" rule for us ... it just makes it easier for Mom to focus on Dad, and for the doctors and nurses to get done what they need to get done. Your online comments (which you can add below) and reassurances of prayer and encouragement are all we really need at this stage.
On a humorous note, a fine colleague of mine here at The Coca-Cola Company called his church to request a mass in honor of Dad for healing. You can imagine how incredulous this sounded when he made the call to the church office. (And this is all truthful, yet paraphrased here.)
"Yes, hello ... this is Jimmy Carter. I would like to request a mass please."
"Jimmy Carter? OK. [Pause] And what is the name of the individual you're requesting a mass for?"
"George Bush."
"Ah-hah ... ok, we'll let you know."
Well, indeed my colleague is named Jimmy Carter, and he eventually got a call from one of the church leaders telling him that he had the church up in arms over a "Jimmy Carter" calling in to request a mass for "George Bush." Of course, he had to confirm to the secretary that indeed there was a Jimmy Carter in their congregation, and that this was not a prank call!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Day 4
Mom's birthday. I won't reveal her age! But Happy Birthday, Helen Bush!
The CT scan is becoming something we hinge on ... determining where we are in the process. Today's CT scan shows marginal improvement in the swelling. They decided to try diuretics and another medication to help reduce the swelling. Mom said that it looks like he's got more fluid output today, so the medications must be doing their job. We won't know for sure until the next scan.
He is a little more mobile today ... raising his knees in the bed and lowering them. He's turned his head from side to side, and even opens his eyes slightly every now and then. Mom said she turned on the TV to give her something to watch. He also raises his hand every now and then. Mom said she would hold it and rub it to keep it warm.
They introduced a feeding tube today to help start him back on sustenance in his stomach. Probably a good thing, since more fluids are being removed. Mom is maintaining a balance between being at the hospital all day and keeping up with her "little job" of bookkeeping, which she loves and shows great dedication for. We're praying for great news from tomorrow's CT scan.
Looking forward, Dad will eventually be moved out into a room on the 7th floor but outside the NCCU. Then he will go into rehab, which will either be inpatient on the 5th floor, or outpatient, hopefully at the St. Mary's facility on 316 much nearer to Mom and Dad's house. We're praying that it all passes by quickly!
(Ed Note: This brings us up to the present, so the entries will now be written more closely with the time at which it happens. Feel free to use the "comments" link below if you have any questions. We'll try to answer them the best way we know how. Thanks!)
The CT scan is becoming something we hinge on ... determining where we are in the process. Today's CT scan shows marginal improvement in the swelling. They decided to try diuretics and another medication to help reduce the swelling. Mom said that it looks like he's got more fluid output today, so the medications must be doing their job. We won't know for sure until the next scan.
He is a little more mobile today ... raising his knees in the bed and lowering them. He's turned his head from side to side, and even opens his eyes slightly every now and then. Mom said she turned on the TV to give her something to watch. He also raises his hand every now and then. Mom said she would hold it and rub it to keep it warm.
They introduced a feeding tube today to help start him back on sustenance in his stomach. Probably a good thing, since more fluids are being removed. Mom is maintaining a balance between being at the hospital all day and keeping up with her "little job" of bookkeeping, which she loves and shows great dedication for. We're praying for great news from tomorrow's CT scan.
Looking forward, Dad will eventually be moved out into a room on the 7th floor but outside the NCCU. Then he will go into rehab, which will either be inpatient on the 5th floor, or outpatient, hopefully at the St. Mary's facility on 316 much nearer to Mom and Dad's house. We're praying that it all passes by quickly!
(Ed Note: This brings us up to the present, so the entries will now be written more closely with the time at which it happens. Feel free to use the "comments" link below if you have any questions. We'll try to answer them the best way we know how. Thanks!)
Monday, August 27, 2007
Day 3
The third day is one of the first days that swelling periods tend to peak after an injury. Dad's CT scan was good and bad. Good in the sense that he wasn't worse, but bad in the sense that he wasn't much improved. The swelling (which was apparently still building slightly) had basically backfilled the void area from the blood clot removal. Thank goodness we had elected for the surgery, so the ongoing swelling was prevented from causing more damage.
Otherwise, it was a pretty quiet day again. They decided to add a central line in his chest, as one of the IV lines was leaking and was considered "lost" in his left hand.
The charge nurse in the NCCU is very knowledgeable and comforting. She indicated that Dad showed "purposeful actions" which I think is what she called it. Instead of random movements, it was evident that he was moving his left hand up to try and pull out his tube. To me, another good sign! He's aware of something foreign and he wants to have it out. But not just yet ... we have to get by the swelling.
For me, I tried to wrap up things a bit as I needed to get back to Atlanta for training and a followup visit at the eye doctor. Mom was still as resilient as ever, indicating if someone could get her to the hospital in the mornings and take her home at night, she was fine. I gave her an early birthday present (which was coming up on the 28th) and told Dad I'd be back later.
From what I understand, the day finished up about the same as it started ... fairly quiet.
Otherwise, it was a pretty quiet day again. They decided to add a central line in his chest, as one of the IV lines was leaking and was considered "lost" in his left hand.
The charge nurse in the NCCU is very knowledgeable and comforting. She indicated that Dad showed "purposeful actions" which I think is what she called it. Instead of random movements, it was evident that he was moving his left hand up to try and pull out his tube. To me, another good sign! He's aware of something foreign and he wants to have it out. But not just yet ... we have to get by the swelling.
For me, I tried to wrap up things a bit as I needed to get back to Atlanta for training and a followup visit at the eye doctor. Mom was still as resilient as ever, indicating if someone could get her to the hospital in the mornings and take her home at night, she was fine. I gave her an early birthday present (which was coming up on the 28th) and told Dad I'd be back later.
From what I understand, the day finished up about the same as it started ... fairly quiet.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Day 2
Dad was moved from ICU to the NCCU, or Neuro Critical Care Unit. He would have normally gone here from the get-go, but he would have been the only patient in NCCU at the time (praise God!) So they had closed the NCCU and shifted Dad and the NCCU staff down to ICU to help there, which was also slow (another praise.) But there were two neuro surgery patients coming into the NCCU later in the week, and the ICU was getting busy, so they moved Dad from the 4th floor to the 7th floor. I was personally very pleased. St. Mary's has a 5-bed NCCU, with highly-trained staff and a recognized center of excellence for neurological care. It as also much more bright and just had a more pleasant feel to it (as much as any hospital can). We found out that it used to be the pediatrics ward, so that explained the colorful hearts on the wallpaper borders and all the bright colors. Dad has a large set of windows, which is also more uplifting.
The CT scan early that day showed that the swelling was increasing. I'm speaking from memory and a lack of medical knowledge, but I believe I recall that we went from a 3mm offset shift to a 7mm offset shift (where no shift at all is preferred). The blood clot and swelling were pushing farther into the brain, closing off some of the open areas on the interior of the brain and creating a dangerous situation.
Dad was also not quite as responsive as he had been. He was mumbling more, and seemed groggier than ever. Dr. Semenoff stopped by to tell us that after consulting with the radiologist, they recommended that we go ahead with surgery to remove the blood clot, which would release the pressure and give the brain some room. The surgery itself carried some risk with it, but it was overshadowed by the risk of continuing to "wait and see" and risking additional swelling which could cause much more of an urgent and critical situation in getting him into an operating room. We agreed that the proactive stance was best. It was nearing lunchtime, so Dr. Semenoff said he was going to grab a quick bite to eat while Dad was being prepped for surgery. If all went well, he'd be back in his room around 3 p.m. Amazing.
And sure enough, Dr. Semenoff dropped by to see us in the surgery waiting room to tell us that Dad came through the surgery fine and would be heading back to his room. He was going to keep him on the respirator and sedated for at least the evening to keep his blood pressure in check, to avoid him becoming agitated, and give him a chance to heal. If the swelling started to subside, we could look at getting him off the respirator. That was great news.
We were totally amazed at his surgical area. They basically shaved off only a portion of his hair toward his left ear, and where I expected to see a mass of bandages, there was just about a 4-inch long strip of what looked like packing tape layered over the site. That's all??? Wow ... medicine has certainly come a long way. The had performed what's called a craniotomy ... creating a bone flap from the skull to remove the blood clot. Thank God for blessing some folks with the gift of surgery skills!
The remainder of Sunday was pretty uneventful. Dad was sedated fairly well. Veda (Chip's wife) came by to visit and ensure that I was taking a break to eat lunch. As we were leaving Sunday evening, Dad had a "coughing fit" which isn't really coughing with a ventilator tube in your throat. But that's what Dad was trying to do. It looked horrible ... as if he was choking. The nurse came in very quickly, as the respirator stopped (since Dad's body was basically fighting it's mechanism while trying to cough). She was very calm and worked with the respirator, and attempted to calm Dad down. She upped his sedative to help bring him back down some, and suctioned out his mouth a little. It was very frightening to see, but she assured us that it was a normal thing. In my mind, it had to be a good sign that Dad's body was trying to do what it would normally do if encountering a foreign object in the airways.
Once he was settled back down, we left him in the care of the NCCU staff for the night. Skeeter, Bucky and Betsy came over to Mom and Dad's house with chicken, mac & cheese, and some of the best green beans I've ever had. Despite everything, we enjoyed some time with our family around the dinner table and kept our spirits up with funny stories.
The CT scan early that day showed that the swelling was increasing. I'm speaking from memory and a lack of medical knowledge, but I believe I recall that we went from a 3mm offset shift to a 7mm offset shift (where no shift at all is preferred). The blood clot and swelling were pushing farther into the brain, closing off some of the open areas on the interior of the brain and creating a dangerous situation.
Dad was also not quite as responsive as he had been. He was mumbling more, and seemed groggier than ever. Dr. Semenoff stopped by to tell us that after consulting with the radiologist, they recommended that we go ahead with surgery to remove the blood clot, which would release the pressure and give the brain some room. The surgery itself carried some risk with it, but it was overshadowed by the risk of continuing to "wait and see" and risking additional swelling which could cause much more of an urgent and critical situation in getting him into an operating room. We agreed that the proactive stance was best. It was nearing lunchtime, so Dr. Semenoff said he was going to grab a quick bite to eat while Dad was being prepped for surgery. If all went well, he'd be back in his room around 3 p.m. Amazing.
And sure enough, Dr. Semenoff dropped by to see us in the surgery waiting room to tell us that Dad came through the surgery fine and would be heading back to his room. He was going to keep him on the respirator and sedated for at least the evening to keep his blood pressure in check, to avoid him becoming agitated, and give him a chance to heal. If the swelling started to subside, we could look at getting him off the respirator. That was great news.
We were totally amazed at his surgical area. They basically shaved off only a portion of his hair toward his left ear, and where I expected to see a mass of bandages, there was just about a 4-inch long strip of what looked like packing tape layered over the site. That's all??? Wow ... medicine has certainly come a long way. The had performed what's called a craniotomy ... creating a bone flap from the skull to remove the blood clot. Thank God for blessing some folks with the gift of surgery skills!
The remainder of Sunday was pretty uneventful. Dad was sedated fairly well. Veda (Chip's wife) came by to visit and ensure that I was taking a break to eat lunch. As we were leaving Sunday evening, Dad had a "coughing fit" which isn't really coughing with a ventilator tube in your throat. But that's what Dad was trying to do. It looked horrible ... as if he was choking. The nurse came in very quickly, as the respirator stopped (since Dad's body was basically fighting it's mechanism while trying to cough). She was very calm and worked with the respirator, and attempted to calm Dad down. She upped his sedative to help bring him back down some, and suctioned out his mouth a little. It was very frightening to see, but she assured us that it was a normal thing. In my mind, it had to be a good sign that Dad's body was trying to do what it would normally do if encountering a foreign object in the airways.
Once he was settled back down, we left him in the care of the NCCU staff for the night. Skeeter, Bucky and Betsy came over to Mom and Dad's house with chicken, mac & cheese, and some of the best green beans I've ever had. Despite everything, we enjoyed some time with our family around the dinner table and kept our spirits up with funny stories.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Day 1
Saturday is often a Game Day in Athens, and Dad is known to many as one of the biggest UGA fans. I guess in a way, it was good that he was admitted to St. Mary's ... the official hospital of the University of Georgia Athletic Association.
The CT scan conducted around 5 a.m. showed signs of additional swelling, pushing on some of the open areas deep inside the brain. While not uncommon, we were hoping the swelling would be minimal. The other spots of blood that had been dotted about the brain scans had dissapated, which was good. But one mass had "coagulated" or concentrated itself in the left frontal lobe, the area opposite the impact. This (and any other signs of swelling or edema) would be what we were watching for. At this stage, the doctor suggested we just keep an eye out and reassess with the CT scan the following morning.
Dad continued to answer questions when asked, but never seemed quite awake. But he continued to show signs of "George" that we all know and love. He would yawn every now and then with the trademark yawn, which you'll have to hear sometime if you're not familiar with it. We had actually put his hearing aids back in his ears, and those frequently give out a squeal if they get in a tight spot, such as between the ear and a pillow. Dad would respond, even with his eyes closed, by raising up and tapping his ear with his finger and readjusting the hearing aid to stop the squealing. At one point, Mom said he even opened his eyes, took it out of his ear, looked at the pads on it, opened the battery compartment, then closed it back and put it back in his ear. All great signs of fine motor skills that were still intact.
At one point in time during one of his Q&A sessions with the nurse, she asked him, "Who is the president of the United States?" We were confident he would get this one! But he responded, "Jimmy." We looked at each other. "Jimmy who?" she asked. He paused a second, eyes still closed, and said, "Jimmy Escoe." We could only grin at each other ... Jimmy Escoe is Mom's brother. We concluded that when we called him with the news about Dad, that we would have to also let him know he had been promoted to president. But the nurse reassured us that getting the answers totally correct was not the big goal ... the fact that he could be aroused to answer questions was a good sign, and what they were looking for. They kept him on oxygen, a saline IV for fluids, and the blood pressure medication. They also gave him some Pepcid via IV to help control the acid in his empty stomach.
Dad was primarily groggy the majority of the day ... letting out a sigh or a "Mercy" every now and then. Sometimes he would roll to one side or the other, then finally settle on his back and fold his hands together on his chest, as if he was giving in to being uncomfortable. We would put his glasses on when he opened his eyes so he could see, and we encouraged the nurses to call him "Irvin" as a way to offer something familiar to him from his family and friends who called him that for a number of years.
The bed would inflate every now and then to encourage him to roll one way or the other. At one point, the entire side of the bed looked like one big bubble and he was all the way against the opposite rail, looking less than appreciative of the mattress encouragement to move. The nurse felt that he was moving around enough on his own to warrant taking the air mattress off the "rotation" function.
Here's a good spot to comment on Mom ... she's been a solid rock throughout the entire process. She listens intently to the doctor and nurses, taking action based on recommendations, always commenting that we need to do what's best for "Irv," and comes across as calm as can be ... finding all the positive steps and signs along the way. Skeeter and I are both in amazement at our Mom for her strength and faith, and we just follow her lead.
The CT scan conducted around 5 a.m. showed signs of additional swelling, pushing on some of the open areas deep inside the brain. While not uncommon, we were hoping the swelling would be minimal. The other spots of blood that had been dotted about the brain scans had dissapated, which was good. But one mass had "coagulated" or concentrated itself in the left frontal lobe, the area opposite the impact. This (and any other signs of swelling or edema) would be what we were watching for. At this stage, the doctor suggested we just keep an eye out and reassess with the CT scan the following morning.
Dad continued to answer questions when asked, but never seemed quite awake. But he continued to show signs of "George" that we all know and love. He would yawn every now and then with the trademark yawn, which you'll have to hear sometime if you're not familiar with it. We had actually put his hearing aids back in his ears, and those frequently give out a squeal if they get in a tight spot, such as between the ear and a pillow. Dad would respond, even with his eyes closed, by raising up and tapping his ear with his finger and readjusting the hearing aid to stop the squealing. At one point, Mom said he even opened his eyes, took it out of his ear, looked at the pads on it, opened the battery compartment, then closed it back and put it back in his ear. All great signs of fine motor skills that were still intact.
At one point in time during one of his Q&A sessions with the nurse, she asked him, "Who is the president of the United States?" We were confident he would get this one! But he responded, "Jimmy." We looked at each other. "Jimmy who?" she asked. He paused a second, eyes still closed, and said, "Jimmy Escoe." We could only grin at each other ... Jimmy Escoe is Mom's brother. We concluded that when we called him with the news about Dad, that we would have to also let him know he had been promoted to president. But the nurse reassured us that getting the answers totally correct was not the big goal ... the fact that he could be aroused to answer questions was a good sign, and what they were looking for. They kept him on oxygen, a saline IV for fluids, and the blood pressure medication. They also gave him some Pepcid via IV to help control the acid in his empty stomach.
Dad was primarily groggy the majority of the day ... letting out a sigh or a "Mercy" every now and then. Sometimes he would roll to one side or the other, then finally settle on his back and fold his hands together on his chest, as if he was giving in to being uncomfortable. We would put his glasses on when he opened his eyes so he could see, and we encouraged the nurses to call him "Irvin" as a way to offer something familiar to him from his family and friends who called him that for a number of years.
The bed would inflate every now and then to encourage him to roll one way or the other. At one point, the entire side of the bed looked like one big bubble and he was all the way against the opposite rail, looking less than appreciative of the mattress encouragement to move. The nurse felt that he was moving around enough on his own to warrant taking the air mattress off the "rotation" function.
Here's a good spot to comment on Mom ... she's been a solid rock throughout the entire process. She listens intently to the doctor and nurses, taking action based on recommendations, always commenting that we need to do what's best for "Irv," and comes across as calm as can be ... finding all the positive steps and signs along the way. Skeeter and I are both in amazement at our Mom for her strength and faith, and we just follow her lead.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Day "Zero"
Dad was doing something he really enjoyed: mowing. He is always one to work hard and diligently, and this day was like many other days he had encountered.
He had been mowing about an hour and a half, and Mom was keeping an eye on him. She noticed he had put the mower away and was milling about. So she decided to step out and encourage him to take a break for the morning.
Once she got outside, she found him collapsed by the side of his pickup truck lying on his right side. Dad has been known to lie down when he gets winded or "overdoes" it as Mom would say, but she realized it was something else when he really didn't respond.
I would have to let Mom and/or Skeeter fill in any additional details here, but the neighbor across the street happened to see Dad sway a bit next to the truck before collapsing. At this stage, everyone felt it was heat exhaustion, but even as first responders arrived at the scene, they needed to be sure it was not related to the heart or something like an aneurysm. Dad was disoriented and confused.
When one of the EMTs asked Dad if he knew what his name was, Skeeter leaned over to the ambulance driver and commented, "If he says 'George Bush,' he's not delirious. That's really the truth!"
(Ed. Note ... along the way during this blog, we may include some comments that are funny in nature, and this is not to minimize what is happening. It's just part of everyone's healing process, and we identify with both the difficult and the humorous aspects of our journey.)
Mom noticed he had a pretty good knot on the back righthand side of his head, along with some abrasion from the concrete driveway, so she alerted the responder team. They loaded him up on the ambulance and made their way to St. Mary's Hospital in Athens with Skeeter following closely behind. I got word from Skeeter what was going on, and immediately left work to drive over to Athens.
I won't go into much detail regarding the ER, but to say that Dad had some attempts at getting his CT scans completed to determine what was happening inside his head. Our attending neurosurgeon was Dr. David Semenoff, and he eventually stopped by to talk with us. His initial prognosis was scarier than just heat exhaustion and a bump on the head.
Basically, he told us that Dad had suffered a traumatic brain injury, or TBI. When he fell and hit the back of his head, the brain "rebounded" toward the opposite side of the skull, affecting the right frontal lobe. Blood was pooling in this area, along with minor spots scattered elsewhere. The next three to four days would be critical to watch for swelling and to see how he responded. They would conduct regular CT scans to monitor the injury. Dr. Semenoff is very kind, but also very experienced, and he was open and honest. Injuries like this covered the spectrum, resulting in anything from a fantastic recovery or death and all spots in between.
So we began praying for the best as they prepared to admit him into the ICU. He would be on fluids and medication to keep his blood pressure (and any resulting pressure in his skull) low. They would regularly wake him up to check and see that he was responsive, asking him a set of questions and offering up simple commands such as wiggling his toes or sticking his tongue out. He knew who he was, and he recognized all of us and could name us. He knew his complete phone number, his birthday, but was confused on the actual date and year. On this day (which we call Day 0), he thought the year was 1987.
They gave him some morphine in his IV drip to help with the pain, and as many TBI patients do, he drifted in and out of sleep.
The hospital is already experiencing the "George Bush" phenomenon ... when I stopped by the Information Desk to find out where Dad was located, I asked about locating a patient. The volunteer turned to his computer monitor and asked, "What's the last name?" I replied, "Bush." He typed that in, scanned the results, and his eyes got really big when he asked back, "George Bush??" I grinned and said, "That would be correct." And he sent me on my way, laughing with his other volunteers at the prospect of having George Bush in their hospital.
Skeeter and I were tagged as the "Bush Brothers" by the ICU staff, where they asked us if we had the recipe for the baked beans and if we had Duke with us. For those of you who don't know, there is a brand of baked beans using our last name. =8^]
He had been mowing about an hour and a half, and Mom was keeping an eye on him. She noticed he had put the mower away and was milling about. So she decided to step out and encourage him to take a break for the morning.
Once she got outside, she found him collapsed by the side of his pickup truck lying on his right side. Dad has been known to lie down when he gets winded or "overdoes" it as Mom would say, but she realized it was something else when he really didn't respond.
I would have to let Mom and/or Skeeter fill in any additional details here, but the neighbor across the street happened to see Dad sway a bit next to the truck before collapsing. At this stage, everyone felt it was heat exhaustion, but even as first responders arrived at the scene, they needed to be sure it was not related to the heart or something like an aneurysm. Dad was disoriented and confused.
When one of the EMTs asked Dad if he knew what his name was, Skeeter leaned over to the ambulance driver and commented, "If he says 'George Bush,' he's not delirious. That's really the truth!"
(Ed. Note ... along the way during this blog, we may include some comments that are funny in nature, and this is not to minimize what is happening. It's just part of everyone's healing process, and we identify with both the difficult and the humorous aspects of our journey.)
Mom noticed he had a pretty good knot on the back righthand side of his head, along with some abrasion from the concrete driveway, so she alerted the responder team. They loaded him up on the ambulance and made their way to St. Mary's Hospital in Athens with Skeeter following closely behind. I got word from Skeeter what was going on, and immediately left work to drive over to Athens.
I won't go into much detail regarding the ER, but to say that Dad had some attempts at getting his CT scans completed to determine what was happening inside his head. Our attending neurosurgeon was Dr. David Semenoff, and he eventually stopped by to talk with us. His initial prognosis was scarier than just heat exhaustion and a bump on the head.
Basically, he told us that Dad had suffered a traumatic brain injury, or TBI. When he fell and hit the back of his head, the brain "rebounded" toward the opposite side of the skull, affecting the right frontal lobe. Blood was pooling in this area, along with minor spots scattered elsewhere. The next three to four days would be critical to watch for swelling and to see how he responded. They would conduct regular CT scans to monitor the injury. Dr. Semenoff is very kind, but also very experienced, and he was open and honest. Injuries like this covered the spectrum, resulting in anything from a fantastic recovery or death and all spots in between.
So we began praying for the best as they prepared to admit him into the ICU. He would be on fluids and medication to keep his blood pressure (and any resulting pressure in his skull) low. They would regularly wake him up to check and see that he was responsive, asking him a set of questions and offering up simple commands such as wiggling his toes or sticking his tongue out. He knew who he was, and he recognized all of us and could name us. He knew his complete phone number, his birthday, but was confused on the actual date and year. On this day (which we call Day 0), he thought the year was 1987.
They gave him some morphine in his IV drip to help with the pain, and as many TBI patients do, he drifted in and out of sleep.
The hospital is already experiencing the "George Bush" phenomenon ... when I stopped by the Information Desk to find out where Dad was located, I asked about locating a patient. The volunteer turned to his computer monitor and asked, "What's the last name?" I replied, "Bush." He typed that in, scanned the results, and his eyes got really big when he asked back, "George Bush??" I grinned and said, "That would be correct." And he sent me on my way, laughing with his other volunteers at the prospect of having George Bush in their hospital.
Skeeter and I were tagged as the "Bush Brothers" by the ICU staff, where they asked us if we had the recipe for the baked beans and if we had Duke with us. For those of you who don't know, there is a brand of baked beans using our last name. =8^]
Thursday, August 23, 2007
NEW: DAD IS HOME!
Dad is now home!
Visiting hours on Lane Creek Drive are more relaxed than at the hospital. ;-)
Please just call before coming (706-769-1380) to be sure someone is home. Dad has out-patient rehabilitation appointments and just catching up with "stuff."
1611 Lane Creek Drive
Bishop, GA 30621
Dad's email address is: gibushjr@yahoo.com
Visiting hours on Lane Creek Drive are more relaxed than at the hospital. ;-)
Please just call before coming (706-769-1380) to be sure someone is home. Dad has out-patient rehabilitation appointments and just catching up with "stuff."
1611 Lane Creek Drive
Bishop, GA 30621
Dad's email address is: gibushjr@yahoo.com
The Bush Family
The blog has spread to so many people, including some who we have not been in contact for years and some who we perhaps have not had a chance to even meet! Here is a photo (above) taken of us this past Christmas. We stayed on Tybee Island for a family wedding in the Savannah area.
This was a family portrait from the Bush reunion in August.
Back (L to R): Bucky, Chip, Dad, & Skeeter
Front (L to R): Veda, Chaz, Mom, Amy, Betsy, & Leah
What happened?
Dad suffered a traumatic brain injury after collapsing on the driveway from heat exhaustion on Friday, August 24th after about an hour and a half of mowing the yard before lunch. The injury was the result of the fall itself. There was no indication of a heart issue or an aneurysm. He hit the back right side of the head, but in a "contrecoup" reaction, the brain rebounded to the front left side of the head, and that is the location of the primary injury.
Why the blog?
We are going to attempt to post regular updates on the recovery of our husband and father following his accident on Friday, August 24th. Many of the entries will be written by me (Chip), his youngest son. Mom and my brother George, III (also known to many as Skeeter) may also add comments and postings along the way. Since we started this blog on Day 4, we backtracked to fill in the first few days. Intro documents are pre-dated to the 23rd to keep things in order.
The primary reason for this blog is to be as proactive as possible in sharing information with our extended family and all the wonderful friends who are continually expressing their thoughts, prayers and concerns regarding our family and Dad's recovery.
We want to be sure we are sharing the same message with everyone, and it was getting difficult to remember who we had called or who we had emailed. Hopefully by collecting our updates in one spot, as many who want to follow along can do so, and the address for this online blog can be disseminated to as many folks who will stand by us in this time and pray with us for a speedy recovery. (Thanks in advance for that!)
The secondary reason is to keep a record of this journey which we are on, so that one day Dad can go back and see where he had been, and have revealed to him how blessed we are.
Comments, words of encouragement, questions ... they are all welcome. Each post will have a comments link at the bottom. This is our first foray into the world of blogging, so hopefully we'll do it justice.
Dad ... if you are reading this for the first time ... we love you and stood by you united all the way.
The primary reason for this blog is to be as proactive as possible in sharing information with our extended family and all the wonderful friends who are continually expressing their thoughts, prayers and concerns regarding our family and Dad's recovery.
We want to be sure we are sharing the same message with everyone, and it was getting difficult to remember who we had called or who we had emailed. Hopefully by collecting our updates in one spot, as many who want to follow along can do so, and the address for this online blog can be disseminated to as many folks who will stand by us in this time and pray with us for a speedy recovery. (Thanks in advance for that!)
The secondary reason is to keep a record of this journey which we are on, so that one day Dad can go back and see where he had been, and have revealed to him how blessed we are.
Comments, words of encouragement, questions ... they are all welcome. Each post will have a comments link at the bottom. This is our first foray into the world of blogging, so hopefully we'll do it justice.
Dad ... if you are reading this for the first time ... we love you and stood by you united all the way.
Don't See an Update?
Just a quick technical note ... if you come to the blog expecting an update and it looks like the one you read previously, be sure to click the Refresh button or the Refresh link under View in your browser to make sure you are seeing the most current stuff. If the Refresh doesn't do it, then there's probably nothing yet to report!
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