08 marzo

Three terrible weeks

and a long road to be walked ahead

I sent this email almost three weeks ago:

Date:Thu, 18 Feb 2016 04:26:24 +0100
Subject:Bad, bad news
User-Agent:Mutt/1.5.24 (2015-08-30)

Hey guys.

Last evening my mother suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

My father called me when they were getting her to the hospital in Lugo and I quickly went there too. The doctors were really pesimistic there, it seems the amount of blood adding pressure to her brain was too much.

They were helpless there, they couldn't do anything for her so they sent her to Santiago. A couple of hours afterwards she was on her way on an ambulance to the hospital here in Santiago.

Shortly after, my father and me came to Santiago too.

We've been in the hospital and we've talked with the doctors that will treat her. They are pessimistic too. So far they have to wait until tomorrow to do some tests on her, see if they can find what caused it and if there is a way to at least stop the bleeding. Then they will have to find out a way to remove all that blood and then... see if she can wake up from the coma, and how she is afterwards.

Right now I'm sitting in the bed of a hotel room by the hospital, with my father totally crashed laying on the other bed.

Life can be tough sometimes, really.

I'm afraid I won't be online tomorrow. By midday they should have the results of those tests, then they will give us some more information, and I'll get back to you.

Thanks for reading, my friends.

The following ten days I did stay in Santiago with my father, visiting the hospital three times per day (one meeting with the doctors, two short visits to my mother in the ICU). Every time we talked with the doctors, the news were worse. Things were evolving quickly, and towards the worse posible ending.

After the first four or five days (it is hard to tell now when things happened, after so many days there) the results of the CAT scans were totally bad. The doctors called us for another meeting and they told us that my mother was evolving in the worse posible way. They told us there were only two posible endings for this, death or staying brainless in bed for the rest of her life.

The news came over us like a tsunami, a sand storm, a blow so hard that you barely can keep yourself up, standing. My father cried. Me, I can not explain how I felt. Sad (terribly sad), worried and lost.

The next day they confirmed the news, more CAT scans revealing lots of damage on both sides of her brain, lots of already dead zones that could not be recovered. "These are the worse posible news, we are really sorry about it, but it is best for you to know now" - they said.

At that point my mother was still in the ICU, with machines and drugs keeping her alive. Obviously she was totally K.O., no response from her except some movements at some points.

The plan to do surgery to fix/close the aneurysm that caused the hemorrhage was put on hold at that moment, because they started to consider that it was not worth it, to get her through all that surgery for nothing.

And then, something happened. She started to move, to act, to sent responses. They noticed some improvements in her behaviour and conscious levels. They did another CAT scan on her and the results did not show any of those damages they saw in the previous scans!!. The doctors sounded totally surprised - "This is something that happens once out of 100 times, we all should be quite, quite, happy" - they said. That same day, in the evening visit at the ICU it seemed she recognized my father, she tried to smile and then she started crying...

The doctors quickly scheduled the surgery and she went through it last friday (from ~09:00 to ~14:30, quite the time). Two days later she was sending responses again, no complications appeared during the 48-hour-period after the surgery.

Yesterday evening they got her out of the ICU and into a regular room. I couldn't be there with her, but my father took care of everything there.

A couple of hours ago I called my father, to check the status. He turned on the speaker on his phone, so I could talk a bit to my mother (just as we have been doing since this all started). "Hi mom, how are you?" - I said, not waiting for any answer/reply.

"Hi son... I'm fine..." - she replied, with a very low and very very slow voice. she was talking again!!.

There is a long road ahead of us all, a large recovery time to be passed together. But at least now we can work, fight and move on.

Posted by wu at 11:38 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)