Dammit - This is Not Where My Father Should Turn 72

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

On Friday, my father turns 72 years of age.

He had a very minor brain surgery this Monday. And came through the surgery quite well. A little muscle pain, and some nausea, but nothing that’s unusual, nor unexpected after cutting holes in the blood bag.

For what the surgery was supposed to correct, it’s even been successful. He’s been diagnosed with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, basically for the symptoms of urinary problems and disturbed gait. There were some mental effects, but fortunately very minor. He had the shunt (as mentioned in the linked article) installed originally back in the spring of this year - and it had wonderful effects, but around the middle of November, his symptoms started to reappear. The Neurologist decided, after testing, that perhaps a larger shunt valve would be better indicated. So that’s what they went in, Monday, to install. This surgery is, for brain surgery, about as minor as it gets.

And when my father got out of the anaestesia Monday, he was responding well, coherent and reasonably healthy.

But for the past two days he’s been having a major problem with nausea, including an inability to keep fluids down today.

Well, the good news is that none of the obvious red flags for this have been found - there’s no clot in my father’s brain, there ventricles in the brain are shrinking again, already, and other indications all suggest that the surgery was successful for what it was meant to do.

But, well, 72 year old men really shouldn’t allow themselves to get dehydrated. So, after a lovely day chasing CT scans, and waiting in the ER, he’s been admitted to the hospital, so they can keep him hydrated with an IV, and just keep an eye on him until he’s able to keep a full meal down.

I’m not worried for the immediate future, the consensus at the moment seems to be simply that my father’s body is adjusting to the shock of the change in ICF pressure a bit more vigorously than it had last time. Already some symptoms are going down, and no one is really worried.

But, it is his birthday, in 4 minutes, now. He shouldn’t have to be spending it in a hospital, with an IV going.

I know there are people suffering far worse, and I’m grateful for the treatments available, and that he’s already recieved. For that matter my father is one of those people who appreciates modern medicine in ways that most Americans don’t. He had a really, really bad case of pneumonia as an infant, and to drain his lung, they had to resect two of his ribs*, because there was no way to attack the infection directly. Since then he’s seen sulfa drugs, and antibiotics change the way that disease is fought. Among other revolutions in medicine.

But it’s still annoying, I wanted him home for his birthday.

*A few years after that my father was getting a school physical from a local surgeon who volunteered his services in this way. The surgeon got to the scars on my father’s back, and said, “Wait a minute! You’re that baby? I never thought you were going to live. That’s great!” It was the surgeon who had resected my father’s ribs to allow for draining his lungs, and he’d apparently done enough of such surgeries that he’d stopped following up on the long-term prognosis for such patients, because the numbers were so depressing.

Pneumonia was a real, deadly disease then. And now, it’s so rare to hear of anyone but the most frail to fall to it.

2

He’s home, as I’d expected him to be, if a little sooner than I’d expected. And he’s not having problems with nausea anymore, so that’s all good.

The BP is a bit more difficult, but, at least it’s no longer starting to look like stock market numbers.

3

Glad your father is home OtakuLoki. I’ll keep him in my thoughts and prayers.

4

Glad to hear your Dad is home for the holidays.

In my Dad’s family he was the only child out of 4 to survive one of the periodic flu epidemics that swept the US. The only way they had to help break the fever was liberal use of whiskey and none of his siblings could keep the whiskey down. He tolerated it quite well as an infant and for the next 70 years!

Enjoy the holidays with your family!

5

Yeah. Glad he’s back. For the love of the Almighty, ask him all those questions now, you dumbass, while you still have him. Hug him lots and tell him you love him.

My dad died in 1999. I still miss him. We can’t stop our parents from dying; all we can do is reduce the regrets we have. :frowning:

6

I know my time with him is limited. And while we’re not the most demonstrative of people, we do talk. I knew these things would start happening when my grandfather succumbed to Alzheimer’s, and again later, when I lost my grandmothers.

The thing that I hate most is that every time, now, when I take him to the hospital or for some treatment there’s this niggling little voice in the back of my head, reminding me that for many people the majority of the monies spent on health care costs are spent during the last six months to a year of life. I don’t give a crap about the monies. But I’m not ready for him to leave in six months, nor a year.

He’s already outlived his own father’s example (but avoiding the alcoholism, adult onset diabetes and life-long smoking all played a part there.) by at least a decade, and I think possibly two. His mother lived to 90, so he may still have a long time ahead. I certainly hope so.

But I’m not hopeful for it.

Thanks again for everyone who read this thread and especially those who’ve offered their kind wishes and prayers. They are appreciated.

May you all be blessed with time with your own loved ones this holiday.

-Loki

7

Well, it seems that, again, I was a bit premature in letting my breath out.

The blood pressure hasn’t stabilized, though, if that were the only symptom I think that there would still be a “wait and see” attitude.

This morning, visual symptoms started. From what my father told me when I spoke with him just now, his vision center isn’t working properly to integrate the images from each eye into a single image. He can still read, but for any long distance viewing he’s pretty well messed up.

A CAT scan was done today (I have to say that this is one of the great things about US medicine: the availability of CAT scans, and other high end imaging/diagnostic equipment. When the patient can afford them. sigh) and found that while his ventricles are coming down, because his brain was deformed by the pressure earlier, it’s not returning to its previous shape. And so CNF fluid is now building up on the outside of the brain.

He’s going back in for more surgery, ASAP. They’re going to try to change that valve in the shunt again, for a slightly lower flow model, and to drain the fluid outside the brain.

The title says it all: Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I really had let myself believe that he was in a more stable place, and would be alright for at least a few months. At least he’s sounding fairly upbeat. But he’s the sort that could give the Brit stereotype for unflappability a run for it’s money.

8

My sympathies–especially for this latest bump on the roller coaster.

My grandmother–age 86-- passed away in late August, after nearly a month in the hospital. The sad thing was that at no time was she apparently more than a few days away from being released from the hospital–although generally not back to her own independent living. And then one day, she had a stroke, and never recovered. And there are benefits to that as well–as opposed to her having lingered post-stroke. But it’s still no fun being on that roller coaster.

Best wishes.

9

Well, the fluid outside the brain has been drained, and fortunately there was no bleeding: it was all CNF, not blood.

Where my father once had one user-added hole in his skull he’s now got at least two. (I’m not sure exactly how many holes were added this time, the bandages have prevented me from seeing the cuts.)

The really good news is that his blood pressure is down to merely high: 140/75 or so. Considering that for a while there last week he was running 180-190 over 90 or higher, that’s a huge improvement.

He’s lucid, and coherent. We were talking about what needed to be done for his claim for a class-action lawsuit, so I feel confident in my ability to say that.

The bad news is that he’s still having some trouble with nausea, and while they’ve allowed him to walk today, and he’s no longer forced to remain on his back he’s still not sitting up very far. He’s also developed a lovely cough. sigh

As for his vision…

He says that it’s improving. Even before we begin with the possibility that the improvements he’s claiming to experience are psychosomatic, let’s emphasize that this is a man who has been consistently downplaying his symptoms with family. For example, the first anyone heard of the visual symptom was when he told the doctor Dec 27. Who knows how long he’d been having those. Likewise, up til he ran to the bathroom on the 20th, he was saying he was experiencing “a little nausea.” I don’t agree with my mother that being a little nauseous is like being a little bit pregnant, though I see her point. Certainly it would have been nice to know just how upset his stomach really was. Anyways, I mentioned this to simply underscore why I’m not placing all that much faith in his claims of rehabilitation of his vision.

Blood pressure, and other things I can observe the numbers, at least. Vision I have to rely on his reports, and I don’t think he’s always an honest reporter. After all, we wouldn’t want anyone to worry unnecessarily. :rolleyes:

But, cautiously, I’m feeling a bit more positive about his condition these days. He is hoping to come home tomorrow, but I think he’s being a bit optimistic there. My gut guess is that he won’t be home til after the New Year. But I really do think he’s coming home. At least, so far, there’s no sign of any stroke, or stroke symptoms.