Yesterday our family finally got to do some more skiing! I've been wanting to go for weeks, but for one reason or another, we couldn't get out to go. So in the morning, I hopped right out of bed and into the shower at 7:30 and got everyone else motivated. Skiing is pretty much one of the only things that is going to get me out of bed and into the shower on a cold March Sunday morning!
Since I hadn't been feeling the best Saturday, I hadn't prepped anything that day/night to go skiing the next day, like a dinner for the slowcooker, or lunches or even snacks. So all I had time for in the morning was to throw some snacks into a bag along with waters and juice. This resulted in us having to buy our lunch from the ski chalet, which I do not like to do because it is always expensive!
Of course, buying lunch out from either a fast food restaurant or a cafeteria always presents problems to anyone with dietary restrictions. So after merely three weeks of sticking to my wheat-free diet, I had to either starve or break the diet. So break the diet I did.
I ordered a pulled pork sandwich on a soft white bun, and mmmmm, was it good. All afternoon I waited to see how my body would react to the gluten and aside from a very heavy lump in my stomach for a few hours (which also could have been because it was white bread), I had no adverse side effects. Not yet, anyway. I know I need to give my body a day or so to decide if it's ok with the wheat or not.
Anyhow, I know I'm not doing this diet because I have a huge problem with wheat; rather, I'm doing it for other reasons. It's good to know though, that I can handle a bit now and then.
But that's not the end of my story!
As we were finishing the last run for the day, R and I arrived back at the chalet only to turn around and wonder where L and DH were. When they didn't catch up soon after, I surmised that L must have fallen.
And fall he did.
He arrived back at the chalet with tears and a rather misshapen looking thumb. Yikes! DH took him to the first aid station, and about 15 minutes later, came back to get R and I and inform us that we were headed for an x-ray at the hospital.
I'll spare you all the boring waiting-around-the-emerg storyline, and just say that three hours later, we went home with a little guy with a splinted thumb, though not broken. (Thank GOD!) He had pulled the ligaments in his thumb when he fell against his ski pole, and caused an injury very common with skiers called "skier's thumb". The splint is to help him from accidentally knocking his thumb back and causing pain.
So while at the hospital, we were starving of course, since we were supposed to be headed home for dinner. Again, I had to break my diet and I went down to the Tim's and grabbed a bagel for R and a muffin for myself (L wasn't allowed to have anything until the Dr. saw him).
Now that I've had these two "forbidden" items after three weeks of being so strict with myself, I feel like it's going to be so much harder to tell myself no once again. But I'm going to keep trying, if anything, merely for the fact that I've lost a few pounds and felt far less bloated than usual. I think I'm going to let myself have something with wheat once a week, on a weekend, if the occasion calls for it. It will be my treat to myself for being "good" the rest of the week.
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
Monday, March 5, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
So Now What?
On Tuesday, I went in for my laparoscopic surgery to remove my dermoid cyst, look for endometriosis, and tubal ligation. The surgery itself went fine, I guess. I mean, I'm still alive, no lasting damage done.
The day was very long. I had to be at the hospital for 11:00 a.m., which meant no food after midnight, and no liquids after 8:00 a.m. (and only clear ones before that.) it was a long time to wait to be without fluids. That really sucked. I was so thirsty. I have no problem going without food, not that I could have eaten with my nerves anyway, but I hate being unable to drink. My head was pounding by the time surgery came around 2 in the afternoon!
My mom came with me, and I felt bad for her. It was a lot of waiting around for her. At least I was unconscious for part of it.
So this was my first experience with anesthetic and surgery. I was very worried about the coming around part, but it wasn't that bad. They didn't rush me, or tell me to stay awake, so that was good. They did, however shove pills into my mouth when I was half conscious. I thought that was weird. I think I was coming to, and losing consciousness a fair bit, although it didn't see like it at the time. I remember coming to, coughing, and then feeling like I didn't want to open my eyes, so I didn't. In my half-lucid state, I was thinking rather childishly that if I pretended to be asleep, they'd leave me alone. HA HA! The next thing I remember is someone calling my name and shoving a straw between my lips, then telling me to open and shoving pills in my mouth! Lucky for them I take pills easily, unlike some people I know that can't take pills at all.
The next thing I remember is them moving me to the next recovery room. I did manage to look at a clock and was shocked to see it was around four. I was in a fair amount of pain, like really bad cramps. They were asking me how bad the pain was, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain I ever felt. Well, I've felt some really bad pain in my life. I've had two children without any drugs, so I know pain! But telling them that this pain compared to that was merely a three wasn't going to get me any more pain meds. I'm learning that the hard way. Thankfully they took pity on me when they couldn't take watching me lie there grimacing and writhing anymore. They shot me up with something, and then I was better.
But I was so sleepy. My mom came into the room,we talked for a bit, then I went to sleep on her. So she just played solitaire on my ipad When I woke up, I felt a bit nauseous, so even though the nurse was hoping to get rid of me, she shot me up with gravol, which meant that I had to stay another half hour. I was ok with that. I promptly passed out again.
The next time I woke, I realized the whole place was pretty much vacant. But I still felt sick. Mom helped me dress, then got my drunken self into a wheelchair and wheeled me out. That was the worst ride I've ever had. By the time mom got to the doors, I was opening the barf bag and holding it up to my face. When she went to get the car, I asked her to leave me outside, despite the negative temperatures. Actually, that's the only thing that helped; the cold, cold fresh air.
When I got home, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was shocked by how grey I looked. Horrible.
I basically slept on and off since two o'clock that day until seven the next morning. That's a lot of sleep, even if some of it was drug-induced!
Since then, I've been ok. The incisions aren't too sore, it's more the air that's stuck inside of me that's killing me. They pump air into you so they can see what they're doing, but don't remove it. So it's stuck in my abdominal cavity, bubbling around and driving me crazy. It's painful, as gas can be. Only I can't burp or fart it out (forgive the crudeness!), I can just hope for it to somehow dissipate.
The weird part of this experience is that the doc never came to talk to me afterwards. I had to call his office the next day to find out what happened. I also had to make a follow up appt for six weeks away.
So as it turned out, I never actually had a dermoid cyst. What I do have, is stage four endometriosis, which is severe, and a lot of scarring on my uterus and ovary. Apparently, my ovary is stuck to my bowel, so he couldn't remove it without fear of putting a hole in my bowel.
So basically, he said my option is to have a hysterectomy. Which I guess doesn't really make it an option. Unless I choose to not have one, but then what? I'll continue to have these painful episodes. And likely they'll get worse. But even a hysterectomy doesn't guarantee the endometriosis will go away.
So that's my story. I don't know what to do,but I'm guessing the next time the endo flares up, I'll be making a solid vow then to end the pain by any means possible.
The day was very long. I had to be at the hospital for 11:00 a.m., which meant no food after midnight, and no liquids after 8:00 a.m. (and only clear ones before that.) it was a long time to wait to be without fluids. That really sucked. I was so thirsty. I have no problem going without food, not that I could have eaten with my nerves anyway, but I hate being unable to drink. My head was pounding by the time surgery came around 2 in the afternoon!
My mom came with me, and I felt bad for her. It was a lot of waiting around for her. At least I was unconscious for part of it.
So this was my first experience with anesthetic and surgery. I was very worried about the coming around part, but it wasn't that bad. They didn't rush me, or tell me to stay awake, so that was good. They did, however shove pills into my mouth when I was half conscious. I thought that was weird. I think I was coming to, and losing consciousness a fair bit, although it didn't see like it at the time. I remember coming to, coughing, and then feeling like I didn't want to open my eyes, so I didn't. In my half-lucid state, I was thinking rather childishly that if I pretended to be asleep, they'd leave me alone. HA HA! The next thing I remember is someone calling my name and shoving a straw between my lips, then telling me to open and shoving pills in my mouth! Lucky for them I take pills easily, unlike some people I know that can't take pills at all.
The next thing I remember is them moving me to the next recovery room. I did manage to look at a clock and was shocked to see it was around four. I was in a fair amount of pain, like really bad cramps. They were asking me how bad the pain was, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain I ever felt. Well, I've felt some really bad pain in my life. I've had two children without any drugs, so I know pain! But telling them that this pain compared to that was merely a three wasn't going to get me any more pain meds. I'm learning that the hard way. Thankfully they took pity on me when they couldn't take watching me lie there grimacing and writhing anymore. They shot me up with something, and then I was better.
But I was so sleepy. My mom came into the room,we talked for a bit, then I went to sleep on her. So she just played solitaire on my ipad When I woke up, I felt a bit nauseous, so even though the nurse was hoping to get rid of me, she shot me up with gravol, which meant that I had to stay another half hour. I was ok with that. I promptly passed out again.
The next time I woke, I realized the whole place was pretty much vacant. But I still felt sick. Mom helped me dress, then got my drunken self into a wheelchair and wheeled me out. That was the worst ride I've ever had. By the time mom got to the doors, I was opening the barf bag and holding it up to my face. When she went to get the car, I asked her to leave me outside, despite the negative temperatures. Actually, that's the only thing that helped; the cold, cold fresh air.
When I got home, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was shocked by how grey I looked. Horrible.
I basically slept on and off since two o'clock that day until seven the next morning. That's a lot of sleep, even if some of it was drug-induced!
Since then, I've been ok. The incisions aren't too sore, it's more the air that's stuck inside of me that's killing me. They pump air into you so they can see what they're doing, but don't remove it. So it's stuck in my abdominal cavity, bubbling around and driving me crazy. It's painful, as gas can be. Only I can't burp or fart it out (forgive the crudeness!), I can just hope for it to somehow dissipate.
The weird part of this experience is that the doc never came to talk to me afterwards. I had to call his office the next day to find out what happened. I also had to make a follow up appt for six weeks away.
So as it turned out, I never actually had a dermoid cyst. What I do have, is stage four endometriosis, which is severe, and a lot of scarring on my uterus and ovary. Apparently, my ovary is stuck to my bowel, so he couldn't remove it without fear of putting a hole in my bowel.
So basically, he said my option is to have a hysterectomy. Which I guess doesn't really make it an option. Unless I choose to not have one, but then what? I'll continue to have these painful episodes. And likely they'll get worse. But even a hysterectomy doesn't guarantee the endometriosis will go away.
So that's my story. I don't know what to do,but I'm guessing the next time the endo flares up, I'll be making a solid vow then to end the pain by any means possible.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Ouchy!
On Wednesday morning when I got into the shower to start my day, I could feel a pain in my back on my right side and what felt like a menstrual cramp in my groin area on the same side. I couldn't understand why I was feeling this, because really, it was completely the wrong time of the month for that. Plus, I never get cramps on one side only.
So I carried on with my day, although the pain continued to get worse. By mid-morning I had to lie down and just let the kids play around me. By noon, I was dying for naptime, and had to call DH to come home as soon as he could. Movement aggravated the pain, and I wanted to walk around holding myself hunched over like an old lady.
Finally, 5:00 came and all the kids left and DH sent me to the clinic. Two hours later I was home with no diagnosis. Stupid, useless Dr. They did test my urine and said no infection was present there, and that I wasn't pregnant. Well duh! I could have told them that! I actually did tell them I only just finished my period the week before, do wouldn't that be a little too soon for pregnancy? Whatever. So the Dr apparently didn't know what was wrong with me. Even when I asked him if the pain could be coming from my ovaries, he said no, the pain was in the wrong place!
Turns out, that Dr needs to brush up on his female anatomy.
Over the next night and in the morning I was in excruciating pain. I was in tears at one point. I don't even remember labour being as bad as that, although I'm sure it was, just not as constant. At least labour pain came and went in waves, giving me relief in the intermittent off periods. Anyhow, DH took the kids to a friend's place to be taken to school from there, and he took me to the hospital.
At first, when I hobbled into the triage area if the ER, it looked quite empty and I thanked the heavens. However, not two minutes later, the ambulances started rolling in. And we all know that of course they take priority. An hour or more later I was dying. I was whimpering and writhing in that stupid plastic chair, trying to find the most comfortable position. I really was about thirty seconds from saying "to hell with it," and laying down on the disgusting floor.
Finally, the angels of mercy looked upon me and they granted me entrance to the place with beds. The wonderful, heavenly beds. No other bed has ever been more comfortable, more wonderful.
And yes, I know it was a gurney.
From that point on I was given something called Toridol (sp?) via IV, and then taken for a CT scan. Then I was given a most wonderful blend of morphine and gravol. Ah, sweet heaven.
After a nap that I was rudely awakened from by the Dr, (how dare he!) I was told my kidneys were fine and that I did indeed have cysts on my ovaries, the right sided one being larger and therefore causing pain.
Ok, they really shouldn't talk to you when you've only just woke up in a gravol/morphine induced stupor. It's really hard to focus! Thank god DH was there to take all the info in.
So I was sent home with a paper explaining the results (in medical jargon, and I actually ended up googling much of it to try and decode and decipher it) and told to make an appointment with my family doctor within the next few days so he/she could send me for an ultrasound within the next two weeks. Hah!! Obviously the man didn't have any idea of how hard it is to get appts in this town!
So we shall see what happens next… For now I have a lovely bottle of Tylenol + codeine.
So I carried on with my day, although the pain continued to get worse. By mid-morning I had to lie down and just let the kids play around me. By noon, I was dying for naptime, and had to call DH to come home as soon as he could. Movement aggravated the pain, and I wanted to walk around holding myself hunched over like an old lady.
Finally, 5:00 came and all the kids left and DH sent me to the clinic. Two hours later I was home with no diagnosis. Stupid, useless Dr. They did test my urine and said no infection was present there, and that I wasn't pregnant. Well duh! I could have told them that! I actually did tell them I only just finished my period the week before, do wouldn't that be a little too soon for pregnancy? Whatever. So the Dr apparently didn't know what was wrong with me. Even when I asked him if the pain could be coming from my ovaries, he said no, the pain was in the wrong place!
Turns out, that Dr needs to brush up on his female anatomy.
Over the next night and in the morning I was in excruciating pain. I was in tears at one point. I don't even remember labour being as bad as that, although I'm sure it was, just not as constant. At least labour pain came and went in waves, giving me relief in the intermittent off periods. Anyhow, DH took the kids to a friend's place to be taken to school from there, and he took me to the hospital.
At first, when I hobbled into the triage area if the ER, it looked quite empty and I thanked the heavens. However, not two minutes later, the ambulances started rolling in. And we all know that of course they take priority. An hour or more later I was dying. I was whimpering and writhing in that stupid plastic chair, trying to find the most comfortable position. I really was about thirty seconds from saying "to hell with it," and laying down on the disgusting floor.
Finally, the angels of mercy looked upon me and they granted me entrance to the place with beds. The wonderful, heavenly beds. No other bed has ever been more comfortable, more wonderful.
And yes, I know it was a gurney.
From that point on I was given something called Toridol (sp?) via IV, and then taken for a CT scan. Then I was given a most wonderful blend of morphine and gravol. Ah, sweet heaven.
After a nap that I was rudely awakened from by the Dr, (how dare he!) I was told my kidneys were fine and that I did indeed have cysts on my ovaries, the right sided one being larger and therefore causing pain.
Ok, they really shouldn't talk to you when you've only just woke up in a gravol/morphine induced stupor. It's really hard to focus! Thank god DH was there to take all the info in.
So I was sent home with a paper explaining the results (in medical jargon, and I actually ended up googling much of it to try and decode and decipher it) and told to make an appointment with my family doctor within the next few days so he/she could send me for an ultrasound within the next two weeks. Hah!! Obviously the man didn't have any idea of how hard it is to get appts in this town!
So we shall see what happens next… For now I have a lovely bottle of Tylenol + codeine.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A Small Update On My Niece
There hasn't been much in the way of news lately about M. A lot of the days has been waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Nothing, I'm sure in comparison to what N and D are going through, but just sitting here helpless and waiting for a scrap of news is hard. I know that there isn't anything anyone can do, other than offer to help in any way, or to pray and hope, but it still doesn't make you feel any less useless knowing that. I comfort myself by Googling stuff, hoping for a scrap of info that would help; daydreaming that I would find a small tidbit of information that would cause everyone including the doctors to go, "Oh! Of course!! We must try that immediately!"
I have found some information about cancer patients drinking breast milk. Some study in Sweden, I think, found that by putting breast milk onto a rat's tumor, it shrunk it. Other studies have found that patients with bladder cancer received breast milk and peed out dead cancer cells. Who knows if they are drinking the milk, or if the milk was being applied to the tumor directly. There's the thing: there isn't any proof that drinking breast milk will help. But it can't harm, right? I mean, it's not a nasty chemical or even from another animal; it's HUMAN milk! Something many of us were raised on.
So anyway, we still don't know 100% that it is in fact cancer, but it's not looking too good. Maybe I am grasping at straws like I always do, but I would be willing to do anything to save that little girl. I would go on that breast milk inducing drug (Domperidone?) to get myself lactating again, if I thought it would give an ounce of help or hope. My other sister, S, is still breastfeeding my niece, A, but I don't know if she has enough anymore. A is now pretty much almost finished with that. I know she could get it started again with some perseverance and pumping, but......well, it's all speculation. I've yet to mention it to N or D, simply because we have no diagnosis yet.
On the weekend, M as released to go home for a few days. The boys and I went over to their place on Sunday to hang out. M was happy and playing, although somewhat tired, probably due to lack of good sleep in the past few days and also the steroids they had her on.
On Monday, they took M back to Sick Kids to admit her for her biopsy scheduled for yesterday. Yesterday was a huge waiting day. Nobody knew what time the biopsy was happening. And we all had to play telephone tag : my mom, S, my dad and I. I'm sure my brother was in there somewhere too. He is lucky though, as he lives right in Toronto and can go over to the hospital basically anytime and be there very quickly. Can't believe I'm saying someone is lucky to live in T.O., because, blech, but in this case it is.
M finally had her biopsy around 3 pm I think, but didn't get out of recovery until about 8. I still haven't talked directly to N since Sunday, mainly because I don't want to keep bugging her with phone calls, and also because when S and I were trying to call this morning, we discovered we had the wrong numbers.
M spent the night in Constant Care, where they could monitor her carefully. Her heart rate was low after the surgery, and she is on morphine too, which requires constant monitoring of their oxygen levels. She was responsive though, a good thing, and she is having visitors today. They did a CT scan of her head this morning, to make sure that there was no hemorrhaging from the biopsy.
Unfortunately, it looks like they will be waiting until probably Friday before they get the results back. She posted a note on Facebook earlier, and mentioned that right now feels "a bit like the calm before the storm." It is terribly nerve-wracking. Even I dream of M every night, and wake often wondering what the outcome of all this will be.
I must stay positive and hopeful.
I have found some information about cancer patients drinking breast milk. Some study in Sweden, I think, found that by putting breast milk onto a rat's tumor, it shrunk it. Other studies have found that patients with bladder cancer received breast milk and peed out dead cancer cells. Who knows if they are drinking the milk, or if the milk was being applied to the tumor directly. There's the thing: there isn't any proof that drinking breast milk will help. But it can't harm, right? I mean, it's not a nasty chemical or even from another animal; it's HUMAN milk! Something many of us were raised on.
So anyway, we still don't know 100% that it is in fact cancer, but it's not looking too good. Maybe I am grasping at straws like I always do, but I would be willing to do anything to save that little girl. I would go on that breast milk inducing drug (Domperidone?) to get myself lactating again, if I thought it would give an ounce of help or hope. My other sister, S, is still breastfeeding my niece, A, but I don't know if she has enough anymore. A is now pretty much almost finished with that. I know she could get it started again with some perseverance and pumping, but......well, it's all speculation. I've yet to mention it to N or D, simply because we have no diagnosis yet.
On the weekend, M as released to go home for a few days. The boys and I went over to their place on Sunday to hang out. M was happy and playing, although somewhat tired, probably due to lack of good sleep in the past few days and also the steroids they had her on.
On Monday, they took M back to Sick Kids to admit her for her biopsy scheduled for yesterday. Yesterday was a huge waiting day. Nobody knew what time the biopsy was happening. And we all had to play telephone tag : my mom, S, my dad and I. I'm sure my brother was in there somewhere too. He is lucky though, as he lives right in Toronto and can go over to the hospital basically anytime and be there very quickly. Can't believe I'm saying someone is lucky to live in T.O., because, blech, but in this case it is.
M finally had her biopsy around 3 pm I think, but didn't get out of recovery until about 8. I still haven't talked directly to N since Sunday, mainly because I don't want to keep bugging her with phone calls, and also because when S and I were trying to call this morning, we discovered we had the wrong numbers.
M spent the night in Constant Care, where they could monitor her carefully. Her heart rate was low after the surgery, and she is on morphine too, which requires constant monitoring of their oxygen levels. She was responsive though, a good thing, and she is having visitors today. They did a CT scan of her head this morning, to make sure that there was no hemorrhaging from the biopsy.
Unfortunately, it looks like they will be waiting until probably Friday before they get the results back. She posted a note on Facebook earlier, and mentioned that right now feels "a bit like the calm before the storm." It is terribly nerve-wracking. Even I dream of M every night, and wake often wondering what the outcome of all this will be.
I must stay positive and hopeful.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
I Should Never Complain Of Boredom Again
So yesterday, as I was trying to post to my blog about the horrendous ordeal that is going on, I was told over and over again by the blogger website that it was unavailable. When I finally got onto my blogger dashboard, I could see that my post from Thurs was missing. It wasn't a terribly exciting post, just me complaining of boredom mostly, but it seems to be back now so you can read it if you need a sedative (ha ha).
Anyhow, I will not complain of boredom again. Because you know the old adage; be careful what you wish for.... This was not the kind of excitement I was longing for! Not at all!
Last night the family and I went down to Sick Kids to visit my sis, BIL and M. With not being able to leave before 5 or just after, and having to stop and buy some Wendy's for dinner, and also with the constant traffic that encompasses the 400 series of highways, we didn't get there until almost 7. That left us with just an hour to visit.
But that was ok, because M and the rest were wiped out. M hadn't had enough sleep the night before for such a small girl, and then had been sedated during the afternoon for her MRI, so she was getting pretty tired.
She was, however, just as spunky and cute as ever. Looking at her, you'd never know there was something evil and ugly growing inside her sweet little skull. I constantly ask myself, as I'm sure so many have done before me, why? Why her? Why this??
WHY?
WHY?
WHY?
We've had a little bit more news since then. I'll copy and paste what my sis wrote on Facebook this morning.
"The oncologist came in with the results last night and they were a bit confusing. They said they were unusual. The one mass at the base of her brain has a cyst in the middle but is surrounded by tumor, but it has a clear defined edge which is supposed to be a good sign (benign?) They also found another mass on her cerebellum which is another tumor. They have decided to do a biopsy early next week, so we may possibly go home today for a couple days and then come back. The biopsy will involve removing skull to take it, and then they will decide on treatment, they won't remove the brain stem one and probably not the other one either, just chemo and/or radiation (I wasn't clear on that part)."
So that's all we know. It sounds a little more hopeful than what we were originally told...although the thought of my poor little M going through chemo and/or radiation is frightening at the least. Plus the whole removing of her skull business...
My sis and family are home now. They were discharged this morning with a prescription for a steroid for M, and were told to come back on Monday so they'd be ready for the biopsy on Tues.
That's it for now. Please keep sending those good vibes and prayers.
Anyhow, I will not complain of boredom again. Because you know the old adage; be careful what you wish for.... This was not the kind of excitement I was longing for! Not at all!
Last night the family and I went down to Sick Kids to visit my sis, BIL and M. With not being able to leave before 5 or just after, and having to stop and buy some Wendy's for dinner, and also with the constant traffic that encompasses the 400 series of highways, we didn't get there until almost 7. That left us with just an hour to visit.
But that was ok, because M and the rest were wiped out. M hadn't had enough sleep the night before for such a small girl, and then had been sedated during the afternoon for her MRI, so she was getting pretty tired.
She was, however, just as spunky and cute as ever. Looking at her, you'd never know there was something evil and ugly growing inside her sweet little skull. I constantly ask myself, as I'm sure so many have done before me, why? Why her? Why this??
WHY?
WHY?
WHY?
We've had a little bit more news since then. I'll copy and paste what my sis wrote on Facebook this morning.
"The oncologist came in with the results last night and they were a bit confusing. They said they were unusual. The one mass at the base of her brain has a cyst in the middle but is surrounded by tumor, but it has a clear defined edge which is supposed to be a good sign (benign?) They also found another mass on her cerebellum which is another tumor. They have decided to do a biopsy early next week, so we may possibly go home today for a couple days and then come back. The biopsy will involve removing skull to take it, and then they will decide on treatment, they won't remove the brain stem one and probably not the other one either, just chemo and/or radiation (I wasn't clear on that part)."
So that's all we know. It sounds a little more hopeful than what we were originally told...although the thought of my poor little M going through chemo and/or radiation is frightening at the least. Plus the whole removing of her skull business...
My sis and family are home now. They were discharged this morning with a prescription for a steroid for M, and were told to come back on Monday so they'd be ready for the biopsy on Tues.
That's it for now. Please keep sending those good vibes and prayers.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The Worst Day Of Our Lives So Far
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Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Accident
Yesterday my DH and R were involved in a car accident. And they are both ok, thank God.
R had baseball yesterday, and I have never missed a game. But yesterday was a "clinic" day, which means that instead of playing a game, they had a big practice where they visit various stations to practice different skills. This is boring to watch, so I had DH take him on his own, and L and I stayed home.
About 20 mins after they left, the phone rang, and after I looked at the call display, I rolled my eyes, thinking DH was wanting to know which diamond he was on. So I was pretty shocked when I answered and he said, "We've had an accident."
Before I could start to freak out, he said that they were both ok and that I would need to come get them, as the car was now undriveable. Just how big was this accident?
After I got the location, I hung up and started scrambling to leave the house. My head felt like it wasn't attached to my body. I had washed two of our booster seat covers that day, and for some reason, I felt the need to reassemble the one that wasn't put back together yet before realizing I didn't need it. What a waste of time. All I could think was that I needed to see my baby, my son. I needed to put my own hands on him, see him with my own eyes to know that he was ok. It's not that I thought my DH was lying, or exaggerating, but it's that motherly instinct. I needed to see for myself.
As we drove the 15 mins that it took to get there, I was thinking the whole time about making it there in one piece. I was extra careful, extra vigilant of every potential threat to us.
The accident occured on a stretch of road that was posted at 80km/h. It was at the bottom of a long hill, so as I was cresting the hill, my heart in my throat and my stomach twisting in anxiety, I could see the now long line of traffic backed up. There were two lanes on our side moving very slowly, and nothing coming the other way. I could see in the distance the flashing lights of many emergency vehicles, firetrucks included.
FIRETRUCKS??! I hadn't realized that this was as bad as it was.
It was completely surreal. To be approaching an accident the way I was, stuck in the throng of cars, yet instead of being annoyed and curious, I was actually anxious to get there faster. I needed to get through in the worst way. It felt weird knowing that I was pretty much the only one who knew what was going on, what had basically happened.
I debated for a minute or two about how to get closer, finally opting for driving down the other side of the road and parking in someone's driveway. I'm sure I got many dirty looks, but I could have cared less. Besides, there was nothing coming towards us, the cars and emergency vehicles had it completely blocked off.
I threw the truck into park and yelled to L to stay put. Luckily he listens, and he was just as concerned as I was about his dad and brother. Although strangely enough, his main worry was that Daddy was going to have his license taken away, despite my reassurances that he was not going to suffer that fate.
I ran the rest of the way, tears clouding my eyes. I know they were needless, but I just had to calm the hysterical mother/wife side of me, reassure myself they were both fine.
R was still sitting in the backseat, looking calm but stunned. He was quiet, and said he was fine, but he was rather pale at the same time. Our truck was bashed in in the front, but the passenger section was ok. DH's airbag had deployed, and I can't for the life of me remember if any windows were broken. I think not, although there was a lot of glass on the ground, but that was mostly from the other two cars, especially the middle one. It was completely munched. Squished. Totalled.
So from what DH has said, he basically sneezed at the wrong time. I think a lot of things happened at the wrong time. The sun was at the wrong angle, the car in the front (there were three involved altogether) decided to turn left into a drive, it seems as though the second car probably slammed on their brakes, and DH sneezed as this was happening, causing him to crash into the back of them which in turn sent them into the person turning left. Or maybe both the front cars were turning left, I don't know. All I know is that DH swears one second it seemed there weren't that many cars around, he wasn't following too closely or being distracted by anything, and the next, BAM! He's slammed into the back of this car, the airbag has gone off, the truck is filled with this airbag dust, and the seatbelts have done their jobs.
As luck, or divine providence would have it, an ambulance happened to be passing by on the opposite side as the accident occurred. They of course, stopped immediately and assessed all the passengers of the vehicles. Despite the fact that the middle person's car was devastated, she was perfectly fine, save a little whiplash. Still, they told her to stay put (even though had she wanted to, she could have climbed out her window) and the firefighters used the Jaws of Life to open her door and retrieve her. Both front vehicle's passengers were taken by ambulance to the hospital, and they asked if we would like one too. However, we opted to go on our own, seeing as how the injuries were minor and it would probably have meant paying several hundred dollars to have that privilege.
The hospital was insanely busy. One woman waiting in triage said she had been sitting there for an hour (without even having been seen by a nurse yet or registered) and had seen about seven ambulances come in! So let's make a long story short here, and I'll just say that we waited for basically five hours before we were finally seen. At some point during that time, I took L home, got some supplies, fed the dog and dropped him off at a friend's house so he didn't have to be subject to all the fun of hospital ER's.
All in all, everyone was ok. Even the people in the other cars (as we heard via the cop). DH has a sore neck (of course) some very nice bruises from the seat belt, and a sore thumb joint, where the steering wheel rammed into his hand. R has a nasty friction burn along his neck where the seat belt was laying, and some bruising and marks around his waist area. The marks on his neck I feel are my fault. I had allowed him to be out of his booster seat in that vehicle, as he seemed tall enough for the seatbelt to lay correctly as long as he was sitting up. He was complaining of discomfort from the booster, which is why I allowed him to stop using it. In our other truck, he still has to use it, as the seatbelts don't come low enough without the booster. But now, he is going back into the booster. I don't care if he's almost nine. The nurse scared the heck out of me when she pointed out the fact that the mark from the belt lays along his jugular. She said he was very lucky to not have had it cut into that vein. Just the thought makes me shudder!
So parents, leave your kids in their boosters, despite their protests that their friends don't have to use them, or that they are uncomfortable, or that the law says that once they are eight they don't legally have to use them anymore!
R had baseball yesterday, and I have never missed a game. But yesterday was a "clinic" day, which means that instead of playing a game, they had a big practice where they visit various stations to practice different skills. This is boring to watch, so I had DH take him on his own, and L and I stayed home.
About 20 mins after they left, the phone rang, and after I looked at the call display, I rolled my eyes, thinking DH was wanting to know which diamond he was on. So I was pretty shocked when I answered and he said, "We've had an accident."
Before I could start to freak out, he said that they were both ok and that I would need to come get them, as the car was now undriveable. Just how big was this accident?
After I got the location, I hung up and started scrambling to leave the house. My head felt like it wasn't attached to my body. I had washed two of our booster seat covers that day, and for some reason, I felt the need to reassemble the one that wasn't put back together yet before realizing I didn't need it. What a waste of time. All I could think was that I needed to see my baby, my son. I needed to put my own hands on him, see him with my own eyes to know that he was ok. It's not that I thought my DH was lying, or exaggerating, but it's that motherly instinct. I needed to see for myself.
As we drove the 15 mins that it took to get there, I was thinking the whole time about making it there in one piece. I was extra careful, extra vigilant of every potential threat to us.
The accident occured on a stretch of road that was posted at 80km/h. It was at the bottom of a long hill, so as I was cresting the hill, my heart in my throat and my stomach twisting in anxiety, I could see the now long line of traffic backed up. There were two lanes on our side moving very slowly, and nothing coming the other way. I could see in the distance the flashing lights of many emergency vehicles, firetrucks included.
FIRETRUCKS??! I hadn't realized that this was as bad as it was.
It was completely surreal. To be approaching an accident the way I was, stuck in the throng of cars, yet instead of being annoyed and curious, I was actually anxious to get there faster. I needed to get through in the worst way. It felt weird knowing that I was pretty much the only one who knew what was going on, what had basically happened.
I debated for a minute or two about how to get closer, finally opting for driving down the other side of the road and parking in someone's driveway. I'm sure I got many dirty looks, but I could have cared less. Besides, there was nothing coming towards us, the cars and emergency vehicles had it completely blocked off.
I threw the truck into park and yelled to L to stay put. Luckily he listens, and he was just as concerned as I was about his dad and brother. Although strangely enough, his main worry was that Daddy was going to have his license taken away, despite my reassurances that he was not going to suffer that fate.
I ran the rest of the way, tears clouding my eyes. I know they were needless, but I just had to calm the hysterical mother/wife side of me, reassure myself they were both fine.
R was still sitting in the backseat, looking calm but stunned. He was quiet, and said he was fine, but he was rather pale at the same time. Our truck was bashed in in the front, but the passenger section was ok. DH's airbag had deployed, and I can't for the life of me remember if any windows were broken. I think not, although there was a lot of glass on the ground, but that was mostly from the other two cars, especially the middle one. It was completely munched. Squished. Totalled.
So from what DH has said, he basically sneezed at the wrong time. I think a lot of things happened at the wrong time. The sun was at the wrong angle, the car in the front (there were three involved altogether) decided to turn left into a drive, it seems as though the second car probably slammed on their brakes, and DH sneezed as this was happening, causing him to crash into the back of them which in turn sent them into the person turning left. Or maybe both the front cars were turning left, I don't know. All I know is that DH swears one second it seemed there weren't that many cars around, he wasn't following too closely or being distracted by anything, and the next, BAM! He's slammed into the back of this car, the airbag has gone off, the truck is filled with this airbag dust, and the seatbelts have done their jobs.
As luck, or divine providence would have it, an ambulance happened to be passing by on the opposite side as the accident occurred. They of course, stopped immediately and assessed all the passengers of the vehicles. Despite the fact that the middle person's car was devastated, she was perfectly fine, save a little whiplash. Still, they told her to stay put (even though had she wanted to, she could have climbed out her window) and the firefighters used the Jaws of Life to open her door and retrieve her. Both front vehicle's passengers were taken by ambulance to the hospital, and they asked if we would like one too. However, we opted to go on our own, seeing as how the injuries were minor and it would probably have meant paying several hundred dollars to have that privilege.
The hospital was insanely busy. One woman waiting in triage said she had been sitting there for an hour (without even having been seen by a nurse yet or registered) and had seen about seven ambulances come in! So let's make a long story short here, and I'll just say that we waited for basically five hours before we were finally seen. At some point during that time, I took L home, got some supplies, fed the dog and dropped him off at a friend's house so he didn't have to be subject to all the fun of hospital ER's.
All in all, everyone was ok. Even the people in the other cars (as we heard via the cop). DH has a sore neck (of course) some very nice bruises from the seat belt, and a sore thumb joint, where the steering wheel rammed into his hand. R has a nasty friction burn along his neck where the seat belt was laying, and some bruising and marks around his waist area. The marks on his neck I feel are my fault. I had allowed him to be out of his booster seat in that vehicle, as he seemed tall enough for the seatbelt to lay correctly as long as he was sitting up. He was complaining of discomfort from the booster, which is why I allowed him to stop using it. In our other truck, he still has to use it, as the seatbelts don't come low enough without the booster. But now, he is going back into the booster. I don't care if he's almost nine. The nurse scared the heck out of me when she pointed out the fact that the mark from the belt lays along his jugular. She said he was very lucky to not have had it cut into that vein. Just the thought makes me shudder!
So parents, leave your kids in their boosters, despite their protests that their friends don't have to use them, or that they are uncomfortable, or that the law says that once they are eight they don't legally have to use them anymore!
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