Today, our landlord's wife, Betty, kindly drove me to the hospital, so I didn't have to deal with the subway-LIRR-taxi.
Terumi was very quiet, today, and very lucid. He knows where he is, and he knows exactly what is going on. The nurse said it was almost as if he had changed personality after the last surgery, but I think it must be a change in medicines. He is mostly off the sedative. In talking with other people in the SICU waiting room, he's not the only one with an open tummy, and almost all men try to get out as he was doing the other day.
The only thing that was strange was he asked if I had bought a small car. He said I kept telling him there was a surprise coming. I didn't tell him, but the surprise is his brother, Shiro, who will arrive here from Japan on the 18th. Taketo is going to drive him to Manhasset, and I booked a hotel room. One of the nurses early on told me that Terumi was asking for Shiro, wanting to see him, and Shiro said the same thing to me over the phone.
He was able to watch the Giants game, and I hope he enjoyed it. He's hungry and thirsty, but almost too quiet. He knows there is another surgery to get through, and it may come tomorrow. While he was watching the game, I walked up the hill to the extended care facility and had a nice visit with Dr. and Mrs. Feldman. She is so tiny and fragile.
Terumi kept asking when Taketo would come. Finally he did, while the nurses were changing shifts. Since Terumi is watching everyone who comes in the door of SICU, I thought we better not tell him about Shiro, otherwise he will be hoping every person who opens the door is the one he wants most to see.
I have no idea if surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. Dr. Blau didn't come by, but he certainly deserves a day off. They took the tube out, indicating there won't be surgery, but on the other hand they won't let Terumi eat or drink, indicating there will be surgery. Mixed signals -- I have no idea what to tell my boss about tomorrow.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
11/14/2008 - Spartacus!
Since it's Saturday, it took a long time to get to the hospital. I yelled at the cab drivers, but it didn't do much good.
Terumi seemed very subdued when I came in, but then he has always been tired the day after surgery. Who wouldn't be. He was wearing a mask, so the breathing tube was out, and a little later they took the mask off, too and left the oxygen thing in his nose. I combed his hair, and he asked me if I could wipe his face, too. He can hardly speak, but his voice is still there, and will be back.
I told him I was going out for a minute, and came back with Taketo, which made him happy. Taketo said he was like Spartacus, but was very relieved at how good he looks. Mercifully, he took me home, so I didn't have to deal with the cabs, LIRR or subways. He said he'll try to come again tomorrow.
Terumi seemed very subdued when I came in, but then he has always been tired the day after surgery. Who wouldn't be. He was wearing a mask, so the breathing tube was out, and a little later they took the mask off, too and left the oxygen thing in his nose. I combed his hair, and he asked me if I could wipe his face, too. He can hardly speak, but his voice is still there, and will be back.
I told him I was going out for a minute, and came back with Taketo, which made him happy. Taketo said he was like Spartacus, but was very relieved at how good he looks. Mercifully, he took me home, so I didn't have to deal with the cabs, LIRR or subways. He said he'll try to come again tomorrow.
11/13/2008 - Fourth Surgery
When I called in the morning, I was told that Terumi was about to be moved to a regular room, and I let Carolyn in my office know that. She passed the word along, and I got a few happy emails.
When I arrived and walked into SICU, there was complete chaos. Terumi was trying to climb out of the bed, and had one leg almost over the railing. I yelled, "What are you doing!! Terumi Tokita, you get back in that bed!!"
The nurse said he sat up or got up, vomited, and broke his dressing. Dr. Blau's version was more plausible. Terumi had pulled out his feeding tube, then he doubled over to throw up, and when he did that, some of the stitching holding his dressing pulled out. I signed the consent for another surgery.
Just then he had to throw up again. The nurse wasn't there, so I grabbed a pan to put under his head and emptied it twice. Finally the nurse pulled him up in the bed, and brought a bigger pan. Dr. Blau was not happy with the vomiting, and said they would pump Terumi's stomach. As they wheeled him past into surgery, I yelled, "Gambatte!!"
While waiting for them to come out of surgery, I had to reply to Carolyn and others at my office, that I spoke too soon about Terumi being moved to a regular room.
Dr. Blau came in afterwards and explained to me what they did and how the wound looked. He said he would try to close the abdomen on Monday. He also said Terumi would have a hernia while he healed, but that they would have to fix it later.
When I went in to see Terumi, he was asleep, again with a breathing tube. Oh, Terumi, why did you do that?? Why didn't they tie you down? My son's friend, Peter, had warned me that you aren't in your right mind. Peter said he himself had decked a nurse (punched her out cold) while in the hospital on a painkiller, and later I found out that it is not at all uncommon for people to pull out their tubes.
Tomorrow at least Taketo is coming to see him. I know he will be tired after surgery. Who wouldn't be . . . and he had quite an active day to boot.
When I arrived and walked into SICU, there was complete chaos. Terumi was trying to climb out of the bed, and had one leg almost over the railing. I yelled, "What are you doing!! Terumi Tokita, you get back in that bed!!"
The nurse said he sat up or got up, vomited, and broke his dressing. Dr. Blau's version was more plausible. Terumi had pulled out his feeding tube, then he doubled over to throw up, and when he did that, some of the stitching holding his dressing pulled out. I signed the consent for another surgery.
Just then he had to throw up again. The nurse wasn't there, so I grabbed a pan to put under his head and emptied it twice. Finally the nurse pulled him up in the bed, and brought a bigger pan. Dr. Blau was not happy with the vomiting, and said they would pump Terumi's stomach. As they wheeled him past into surgery, I yelled, "Gambatte!!"
While waiting for them to come out of surgery, I had to reply to Carolyn and others at my office, that I spoke too soon about Terumi being moved to a regular room.
Dr. Blau came in afterwards and explained to me what they did and how the wound looked. He said he would try to close the abdomen on Monday. He also said Terumi would have a hernia while he healed, but that they would have to fix it later.
When I went in to see Terumi, he was asleep, again with a breathing tube. Oh, Terumi, why did you do that?? Why didn't they tie you down? My son's friend, Peter, had warned me that you aren't in your right mind. Peter said he himself had decked a nurse (punched her out cold) while in the hospital on a painkiller, and later I found out that it is not at all uncommon for people to pull out their tubes.
Tomorrow at least Taketo is coming to see him. I know he will be tired after surgery. Who wouldn't be . . . and he had quite an active day to boot.
11/12/2008 - Loop de loop
I can't say that Peter didn't warn us about the effects of the sedatives and painkillers.
Today I arrived -- actually, I raced in after the nurse told me his dressing would be changed, which I thought meant surgery. I made it in a little more than an hour (E or F to Roosevelt; 7 to Woodside; LIRR to Manhasset; taxi to hospital), which meant that every transfer went exactly right. They had finished changing the dressing, so it wasn't a surgical procedure.
Terumi was mostly awake, eyes open and talking, albeit softly. Today he had the breathing tube removed even though the last surgery hasn't been done. It's been in too long (maybe they expected to close before now), and so that means surgery won't be done today. They replaced the mask fairly soon with the nose oxygen thingy (it MUST have a name). It looks like he has about 1/3 basketball instead of half for a tummy.
He was in a frustrated, bad mood from the beginning, though (and really, who can blame him). "I'm getting up." "No, you're not." "Just watch me." "OK" "Pull me up." "You can't get up -- you're attached to all those machines." "Can you carry some?" (Should we laugh or cry?) "May I have some ice cream?" "No, you can't eat anything." "I'm hungry!" "May I have a pot of tea?" "No, you can't drink anything." "I'm THIRSTY!!" (At least he could have some water on a sponge.) "Where is it." "Where is what?" "The thing I asked for." "What thing?" "You know -- you went out to get it." "What?" "ICE CREAM." "You have to stay with the tube food for now."
The leg kept sliding off the bed, with the other leg trying to follow. He kept pulling on the oxygen nose piece and touching the feeding tube. He was fascinated with the light on the finger piece measuring blood oxygen. He didn't want the breathing treatment, or anything but ice cream and to get up and out of the bed.
It was the medication talking. He didn't remember it later, thank goodness. During a quieter moment, he pointed out of the window, towards the sky. "There's an Indian girl watching me . . . the one who stayed at our house. Can you get her address?" and later . . . "The (couldn't quite hear) people are celebrating."
Today I arrived -- actually, I raced in after the nurse told me his dressing would be changed, which I thought meant surgery. I made it in a little more than an hour (E or F to Roosevelt; 7 to Woodside; LIRR to Manhasset; taxi to hospital), which meant that every transfer went exactly right. They had finished changing the dressing, so it wasn't a surgical procedure.
Terumi was mostly awake, eyes open and talking, albeit softly. Today he had the breathing tube removed even though the last surgery hasn't been done. It's been in too long (maybe they expected to close before now), and so that means surgery won't be done today. They replaced the mask fairly soon with the nose oxygen thingy (it MUST have a name). It looks like he has about 1/3 basketball instead of half for a tummy.
He was in a frustrated, bad mood from the beginning, though (and really, who can blame him). "I'm getting up." "No, you're not." "Just watch me." "OK" "Pull me up." "You can't get up -- you're attached to all those machines." "Can you carry some?" (Should we laugh or cry?) "May I have some ice cream?" "No, you can't eat anything." "I'm hungry!" "May I have a pot of tea?" "No, you can't drink anything." "I'm THIRSTY!!" (At least he could have some water on a sponge.) "Where is it." "Where is what?" "The thing I asked for." "What thing?" "You know -- you went out to get it." "What?" "ICE CREAM." "You have to stay with the tube food for now."
The leg kept sliding off the bed, with the other leg trying to follow. He kept pulling on the oxygen nose piece and touching the feeding tube. He was fascinated with the light on the finger piece measuring blood oxygen. He didn't want the breathing treatment, or anything but ice cream and to get up and out of the bed.
It was the medication talking. He didn't remember it later, thank goodness. During a quieter moment, he pointed out of the window, towards the sky. "There's an Indian girl watching me . . . the one who stayed at our house. Can you get her address?" and later . . . "The (couldn't quite hear) people are celebrating."
11/11/2008 - Happy Birthday, Terumi!!!
I went home soon after the nurses changed shifts. The new nurse seemed "schlumpy" somehow. I thought I would take a nap, but instead ended up answering questions, catching up email and just doing things. Before going back, I stopped to pick up a cake for Terumi. Really, we'll have a big party later.
When I got there, I realized how wrong I had been about the nurse. Carol had him smiling, and his eyes were open. She had untied his hands, and was lifting his arms above his head -- Whee!!! She is a great nurse. He was bathed, shaved and looked very good. She is an earth mother, and he was clearly happy.
Before going back to the hospital, I had called Lydia in Dr. Feldman's office about seeing Mrs. Feldman, Dr's wife, who is in the extended care facility that everyone says is "just up the hill". I debated about giving the cake to Mrs. Feldman, but Lydia said she is very allergic to soy. Not wanting to chance it, I gave the cake to the nurses. They all gathered around and sang "Happy Birthday", and Terumi smiled.
Here is what I wrote to my brother:
"Dear Mikie . . . I've learned something about Terumi that neither he nor I knew for sure -- he's a fighter, and he's an optimist. Otherwise he wouldn't have been smiling and laughing!!!"
When I got there, I realized how wrong I had been about the nurse. Carol had him smiling, and his eyes were open. She had untied his hands, and was lifting his arms above his head -- Whee!!! She is a great nurse. He was bathed, shaved and looked very good. She is an earth mother, and he was clearly happy.
Before going back to the hospital, I had called Lydia in Dr. Feldman's office about seeing Mrs. Feldman, Dr's wife, who is in the extended care facility that everyone says is "just up the hill". I debated about giving the cake to Mrs. Feldman, but Lydia said she is very allergic to soy. Not wanting to chance it, I gave the cake to the nurses. They all gathered around and sang "Happy Birthday", and Terumi smiled.
Here is what I wrote to my brother:
"Dear Mikie . . . I've learned something about Terumi that neither he nor I knew for sure -- he's a fighter, and he's an optimist. Otherwise he wouldn't have been smiling and laughing!!!"
11/10/2008 - Dreaded Birthday Eve
Early, early this morning, my baby went back to San Francisco. I'm really going to miss him. It was a terrible way to get a lot of time together to talk, but he is also a tower of strength, and one who is happy to share it.
Today is the birthday eve. Terumi has always been very superstitious about birthdays. It's his theory that men die before their birthdays and women die afterwards. I don't know if he knows what the date is, but he might hear it during the day, and so we're going to spend the night. I say "we" because there are three other ladies I always see in the waiting room, and I know the Indian lady whose daughter is in ICU always spends the night there. The idea is to stay with him until midnight, and then it will be too late to take the train home. Masato urges me not to do it, but maybe I'll decide later.
Since he had surgery yesterday, he's quite tired today, so I decided to stay. As I told Masato, this one is easy . . . we'll just breathe together. His nurse, Jen, and I counted down to midnight with no problem. We wished him a happy birthday, and he smiled and remained asleep.
Deborah, who went to visit her in-laws in Arizona, wrote this to me today:
"Vernon's dad said a prayer and sang a blessing song on mr. T's behalf when we were at Kitt Peak today. Navajos consider mountains to be sacred. We all touched corn pollen to our lips and foreheads and sprinkled it in a circle over the ground. "
"They said I might be able to get some herbs to burn in the hospital room, but I don't think they would go for that in intensive care! I will try to come up with something more in line with rules and regs "
Today is the birthday eve. Terumi has always been very superstitious about birthdays. It's his theory that men die before their birthdays and women die afterwards. I don't know if he knows what the date is, but he might hear it during the day, and so we're going to spend the night. I say "we" because there are three other ladies I always see in the waiting room, and I know the Indian lady whose daughter is in ICU always spends the night there. The idea is to stay with him until midnight, and then it will be too late to take the train home. Masato urges me not to do it, but maybe I'll decide later.
Since he had surgery yesterday, he's quite tired today, so I decided to stay. As I told Masato, this one is easy . . . we'll just breathe together. His nurse, Jen, and I counted down to midnight with no problem. We wished him a happy birthday, and he smiled and remained asleep.
Deborah, who went to visit her in-laws in Arizona, wrote this to me today:
"Vernon's dad said a prayer and sang a blessing song on mr. T's behalf when we were at Kitt Peak today. Navajos consider mountains to be sacred. We all touched corn pollen to our lips and foreheads and sprinkled it in a circle over the ground. "
"They said I might be able to get some herbs to burn in the hospital room, but I don't think they would go for that in intensive care! I will try to come up with something more in line with rules and regs "
11/09/2008 - Third Surgery
When Michael and I arrived today, I felt his head, and he seemed a little warm. I must be mistaken, but wasn't. He had a fever of about 100 degrees. Where, why??? There are hand sanitizers all around, and people are very good about washing their hands. Did we bring it in?? We'll never know.
The nurse told me they cultured his blood (I never did find the results), and because he was hooked to so many tubes, they decided to change them all, which was a major operation, instead of taking a chance. They told us that sometimes infection sets in through the tubes.
Unbeknownst to me, Dr. Blau had scheduled a surgical dressing change. He came into the room while they were changing the tubes, and was clearly mad at the staff about something, although we couldn't tell exactly what, since we kept being thrown out of the room. He wasn't happy about the fever at all.
Bad, bad vibes for surgery. We stood by as Terumi was wheeled past us into OR about 7 pm, and yelled, "Oto-chama, GAMBATTE!!!"
I went back into SICU to talk to the nurse. She had disappeared and there was a very young resident there talking to someone on the phone. It turned out to be Dr. Blau. They had forgotten to give me a consent to sign. Dr. Blau came roaring back. I signed, although I could barely write my name. He spoke to us calmly to tell us he was going to change the dressing and check the wound. Nevertheless, bad vibes were all around. We could barely speak, and so until Dr. Blau came back to the waiting room, we mindlessly sat there, each in a different world.
Dr. Blau said he cultured various parts of Terumi's abdomen, and there was no sign of infection; the wound was clean. He also said that Terumi would have a hernia after this was all over, but they would take care of it later -- maybe in about a year.
Michael and I went in to see him asleep again. They were going to leave him asleep until the morning. Clearly, Michael didn't really want to leave, but we went home very late -- or very early, depending on how you look at it. I told him that Terumi is very strong, still, and this would not be the last time he would see him. Michael managed to get a few hours of sleep.
The nurse told me they cultured his blood (I never did find the results), and because he was hooked to so many tubes, they decided to change them all, which was a major operation, instead of taking a chance. They told us that sometimes infection sets in through the tubes.
Unbeknownst to me, Dr. Blau had scheduled a surgical dressing change. He came into the room while they were changing the tubes, and was clearly mad at the staff about something, although we couldn't tell exactly what, since we kept being thrown out of the room. He wasn't happy about the fever at all.
Bad, bad vibes for surgery. We stood by as Terumi was wheeled past us into OR about 7 pm, and yelled, "Oto-chama, GAMBATTE!!!"
I went back into SICU to talk to the nurse. She had disappeared and there was a very young resident there talking to someone on the phone. It turned out to be Dr. Blau. They had forgotten to give me a consent to sign. Dr. Blau came roaring back. I signed, although I could barely write my name. He spoke to us calmly to tell us he was going to change the dressing and check the wound. Nevertheless, bad vibes were all around. We could barely speak, and so until Dr. Blau came back to the waiting room, we mindlessly sat there, each in a different world.
Dr. Blau said he cultured various parts of Terumi's abdomen, and there was no sign of infection; the wound was clean. He also said that Terumi would have a hernia after this was all over, but they would take care of it later -- maybe in about a year.
Michael and I went in to see him asleep again. They were going to leave him asleep until the morning. Clearly, Michael didn't really want to leave, but we went home very late -- or very early, depending on how you look at it. I told him that Terumi is very strong, still, and this would not be the last time he would see him. Michael managed to get a few hours of sleep.
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