Jen Has All The Luck

Well, we've been remiss in our updates.  It's been an intense week. I was doing better, then got worse, and am now doing better again. The bullet points go something like this: 

• Thursday - Friday: Jen feeling better after headache and puke fest. She goes back to walking the halls, and she tests out eating toast.  
• Friday night: Tony mostly slumbers, while Jen sprints Hourly to the toilet. Colon working, but overdoing it. No more than 1 hour sleep intervals.   
• Saturday: Hourly sprints turn into 20 minute mega sprints. Not happy. Jen is reminded of time she ate bad green chutney from a street vendor in India (it was so good! and then it was so bad!), except this is much, much worse.  Doc sends stool sample to test for  Clostridium difficile, or C. diff, just to be safe. No one thinks Jen has it, since she had only 1 dose of antibiotics, and has been taking Saccaromyces boulardii, a probiotic prescribed specifically to ward off C. diff. 
• Sunday - 1:30 a.m.: Test results for Clostridicum difficile come back positive. Jen and Tony consult Dr. Google, experience growing anxiety reading tales of colitis, toxic megacolon, and death. 
• Sunday: Jen and Tony talk to actual doctor. Jen starts IV antibiotics. Begins to feel slightly better.
• Monday: Dr. Whiteford shocked at Jen's super awesome luck. IV antibiotics change to oral antibiotics, so he can get Jen "away from these sick people."
• Tuesday - Evening: HOME!! Extreme happiness.  Jen sheds tears of joy at sight of lovely home and sweet cats. Mama Jane picks up 10 day supply of Flagyl for Jen - worst antibiotic ever. 
• Tuesday - Beyond: Jen battles intense nausea caused by both C. diff and Flagyl. Sleeps, manages suite of meds and supplements, walks a couple of circles around the house (staying within sprinting range of toilet, just in case), eats gentle foods prepared by Mom, reads, repeats.  Monitors body for recurrent symptoms. Hopes that awful antibiotics work and resorting to fecal transplant is not required. Marvels at crappy luck while experiencing simultaneous gratitude that things are not worse.   

Much love to you all. Thanks for your support, near and far! 

Difference in a Day

Yesterday was terrible, and traumatically reminiscent of everything that went wrong the fist time around--fever, throwing up, pain. She was really miserable.

I'm sorry--I couldn't post anything on the blog. I thought about it, thought I should, but I truly had no idea what to write. "Today, Jen feels like shit and the rest of us are totally freaking out" seemed neither appropriate nor sufficient, and I didn't want to validate the experience by writing about it, anyway.

Earlier, I had successfully demanded (nicely) of the nurse that she get one of Jen's docs on the phone and let them know what was up, rather than just adding her condition to the notes in her file. It wasn't until late in the day, though, that Whiteford  finally came in to check up on her, which he did quite casually despite acknowledging that she looked crappy. Glancing up, he must have seen a look in my eye because he admonished us to not let our "PTSD" get the better of us. He wasn't worried. He indicated, in that surgeony way, that everything was going to be OK, and strolled out of her room.

Guess what? He was right! After sleeping all day yesterday (except when vomiting, etc) Jen is feeling pretty good today. She's eating an ever-expanding diet (Yay for toast!) and she's logged perhaps two miles of walking through the oh-too-familiar byways of  the Providence Cancer Center's seventh floor.

Up and down, people, as our bodies progress through their healing stages. It is not always fun, but it works.

Room 738

Groggy and thirsty. All well. 

Piece of Cake

All done!  Whiteford says that surgery went perfectly, "Very straightforward." She's in the Recovery area, probably for an hour, then to her room. Home in 2-3 days. 

Just wheeled her into OR

We're thinking about two hours until she's done (than an hour in post-op). 

"I'm ready for my massage and facial, now"

Pre-op

Getting ready for action.  

On the way!

Were off to the hospital for a quick date with Dr Whiteford, then hopefully to the West Wing of the Cancer Center, where angel-nurses meet every need. 

Keep you posted!

-t

Quick update

Hi everyone,

It's been a busy few months back at work, in the field, and in the garden. We are currently up to our eyeballs in tomatoes, and have been racing against the clock to get tomatoes processed and the garden weeded before Surgery #3. 

For those of you who haven't heard yet, I finally got the thumbs up for my reversal surgery. This means that the abscess that developed when my anastomosis leaked has healed sufficiently to support reconnecting the plumbing.  

The date is set for September 24th - one week from today! I am told to expect a few days in the hospital, two weeks of major recovery, and then 2-3 months (or more) for my GI tract to sort things out and get into its new groove. As with everything, every body is different, so time will tell what this one wants to do.  

We expect, and hope, things go much more smoothly this time (no pun intended...ah, the return of poop jokes). And, while I'm not really excited, per se, to undergo surgery again, I am looking forward to being pieced back together again, and facing this next phase of healing.  And if I have learned one thing in all this, it is that the body does heal. Quite amazing, really.

For fun, I'll share a few photos that my friend, Rachel, sent me from a hike we did on her recent visit.  Enjoy!

View of The Gorge on a hike with Rach

Visiting a sailboat - I think I should have one of these, someday 

Triple Falls - a well-earned treat

Ponytail Falls

A little late-season garden panorama.  That's our 400 s.f. garden plot. It's hard to see, but note the giant piles of debris that need to be hauled to the compost.  Those sunflowers are taller than me! There are only about 5 tomato plants left standing...there were about 15.  What can I say - I get a little overzealous. 

A Little Humor

It's been ages since we've shared an update.  As most of you know, this is mostly due to the fact that we are both back at work and busy.  Also, all is well.  I continue to visit various doctors (oncologist, genetic counselor, etc.), but don't have much news to share.  I go back to Dr. Whiteford in August to get reassessed to determine when I can have my put-Jen's-plumbing-back-together surgery - possibly in September.  More on that soon.  

In the meantime, I had to share this with everyone.  For those of you who don't know David Sedaris - perhaps you have been living away from the internet and/or NPR for several years? - I highly recommend discovering him.  He is a very funny man.  Mostly, I am sharing this because of hilarious discussion about getting a colonoscopy (which, as a reminder, I highly recommend - since getting mine saved my life).  If you have limited time, this bit starts around minute 10.  But, it's only 24 minutes long, and pretty funny, so I recommend giving it all a listen.  

here you go:     http://www.cbc.ca/q/blog/2013/05/21/humourist-david-sedaris/

Hope you are all enjoying this fabulous summer!!

xoxoxo
Jen

Happy Mother's Day! - or - 46 Days & Counting

Happy Mama's Day everyone!  

We have been lamenting our lack of posting over here (as usual), so I thought I would take a moment to post a brief update before I drag myself out for my daily perambulation. 

All in all, I am healing well, as would be expected - generally, this is what bodies want to do, right?  I seem to have turned a corner a week or so ago and have generally, had less pain, and more energy.  I have been able to reduce my pain medication to a daily dose equivalent to what I was taking every 4 hours in hospital.  Of course, I expected to do that weeks ago, but that was the unrealistic planning of someone who had never undergone major surgery before - sheer insanity.  

Today marks 46 days from my emergency surgery - 6 weeks a few days.  I can hardly believe that it has been that long.  Yet, each time I push myself and get hit by exhaustion, I remind myself that it is a blip in time, really, and that I just had two intense surgeries.  It is, to say the least, a test of my patience.  

It goes a little like this...Thursday was an action packed day, with two doctors appointments and a trip to Trader Joe's.  A couple of weeks ago I stepped foot in a store for the first time, and just about fell over with hot flashes and exhaustion....so it felt like a big deal that I was able to endure all of those errands. On top of that Tony took me on a date to the movies to see Iron Man 3 - which was nerve wracking and exhausting  but fun. I was pretty pooped after all that activity.  But, I didn't realize how much so until the next two days found me  laying about like a slug, slightly grumpy, and with some resurgent pain.  It truly is a two steps forward, one step back process, this healing.  Luckily today, three days out, I am finally feeling some energy return and can resume pushing myself in small ways.    

One of my Thursday appointments was an impromptu visit to Dr. Whiteford's office to talk to him about some pain I've been having (all is well, nothing to worry about).  In the next two weeks I will get a scoping and CT scan to see how the hole in my colon is healing.  I'm trying hard to not get TOO optimistic, but am hopeful that things are healing well and that Dr. W will be able to give me a clearer sense of when my next surgery can be scheduled.  As some of you already know, I came out of the second surgery with a temporary body modification.  No, I didn't get a new piercing, or bagel head, or a tattoo, but I did come home with a temporary ileostomy.  And I am anxiously awaiting the third surgery where it can be reversed and my plumbing reconnected.  

I can share more about the ileostomy later, if folks are curious - the short of it is that it's an amazing, life-saving option, particularly for folks with ulcerative colitis, Crohn's, and other GI diseases, or in situations like mine.  For me, it has also been life-saving, since it allows my colon to take a break from it's job, and heal...and for that I am grateful.  However, learning to manage the ostomy has added a very challenging component to my healing process, and boy am I ready to return this stoma for a refund.  Before that can happen the hole in my anastamosis (the location where they stapled my colon back together after resecting the part of it around the tumor) has to heal, and I need to be healthy, strong, and fattened up to endure a third surgery - though this surgery should be much less intense than the other two.  

Whew...well this post has gotten longer than I intended, but there you have it.  The essence - all is moving in the right direction, and I (and we) continue to be so grateful for the amazing support, love, and positive vibes from you all.  I hope everyone is enjoying a wonderful Mother's Day celebrating the amazing women who have made our existences possible and helped shape the people we have become.  If not for all of them, I would not be so blessed with all of your loving support. 

Me & Mama - several weeks ago, when she was still here.

      

Recuperating on Friday. Though I was exhausted,
Tony had me in hysterics in the backyard

Where we're at.

Hello everybody.

I've been pretty delinquent with the blog since we came home from the hospital...god, over three weeks ago now. Since then, I guess a lot has occurred in the world at large; it definitely rolls along heedless of our tiny little lives. We do pay it a lot of attention, though. I, for instance, kept Jenny up with Twitter and HuffPo well past her bedtime during the awful events in Boston (and Texas. and China.)

That's for sure, but the massive size and speed of the world also reminds me of how important community is, so much more than anything on CNN. So, with that in mind I'm sitting here tonight, after a rare day shift, and after a nice meal with JZ, just typing away without thinking about it much.

Of course, this blog is about Jen's recovery...

Here's the thing about that---the thing that might inform a bit about the paucity of posts on the blog, recently. And that thing is that it's a hard row to hoe, this surgery (and cancer) recovery. It's a damn slog. It's two steps forward, and then you slide back a few. It's painful and messy and difficult. That's just the way it goes, and it's exhausting and really pretty hard to report on. I'm thinking that ya'll don't want to read that stuff, as much as I don't want to write it.

But. But, but, but...I can definitely and confidently say that the general trend in Jen's health and state of mind is, and has remained, positive. She is getting well, sure as it's Springtime. Last night we even had our first date out---first since March 11 when we had the "last supper" out with Mama-Jane---Indian food, the night before Jen's first surgery. But, last night we hobbled to the Vita Cafe and had a short mini-dinner (thanks to a gift-certificate from great friends) before hobbling back home and falling into bed from the exertion.

So, that's where we're at. It's a better place, we remind ourselves often, than where we were February 21st. That's the day before they found cancer in Jen.

Jen Breaks the Radio Silence

Due to the recent radio silence, it may seem like not a lot is going on over on Portland, Oregon's NE 22nd Avenue.  All in all - there is progress.  It's slow, but seemingly steady.  At last week's appointment with Dr. Whiteford, I had the last of my three post-surgery drains yanked out of my body (and I do mean yanked - it was gross and uncomfortable).  Since then, I have been enjoying the freedom on having one less thing poking out of my body, one less thing to manage and navigate; I have also been amazed at how sore those drain sites are.  However, they are scabbing over, healing, and slowly (oh, so seemingly slowly) my body does what bodies want to do...it heals.  I feed it, water it, rest it, and walk it...and in exchange, I have to trust it is doing its part to further this healing cause.

Lest you think there is nothing happening over here, I will share that there has been a lot of this ridiculousness:

There have been cozy naps in the Barcalounger.  Oona agrees that naps are just what the doctor ordered, and takes every opportunity to join me, preferably in as close proximity as possible, and under the covers, if permitted:

There have been daily walks at a somewhat geriatric pace - sometimes with this kind of gorgeous sun, sky, and puffy clouds:

Other times, on days like today, in the more traditional spring-grey of Oregon, we still get the gorgeous, ever emerging display of flowers in the spring gardens throughout our neighborhood.  Today was a banner day for walking - Tony dragged me along for a whopping 1.9 miles - which is the farthest I've walked since before unexpected surgery #2.  We also happened upon someone's semi-blooming lilac bush, which we may have pinched a few blooms from...said blooms may be currently filling the living room with the scent of spring as I write.

Tony has been super busy with work and other endeavors and laments that he hasn't made a blog-post in so long. I am often (but not always) experiencing the various challenges of post-surgery, but one of my biggest motivations for finally getting in front of the computer to post is to thank---all of you, for being so amazing in your love and support during this really difficult time. It has made all the difference...really, you can't imagine.

Another hit of this...

Did you see this one?

Short shot

I was hoping to write a post over the last two days (my "weekend," since I work on sat/sun), but have been a bit run-down, so haven't got to it.

One thing I've failed to mention is that Jen's mother, Jane, returned last Saturday for another fabulous visit. We are sad to be saying goodbye to her tomorrow, but hope to be seeing her again in the not-too-distant future (hopefully with Dave next time).

Yesterday, we visited Jen's surgeon. Who says all appears to be going well for her recovery, except he'd like to see her get some weight on her bones a bit quicker. (To this end she just finished her second helping of ice cream. )

In the meantime, her overall recovery sustains its forward momentum. Slow, but steady.

Pleasure. Joy. Healing.

Sister Maggie and Niece Morgan (mother & daughter, respectively), offer their gifts to JZ, and she passes them on to you. (Yes! I figured it out.)

2:30 Pacific: Napping with the ringer on...

Jen usually turns he phone ringer off when she is napping or otherwise unavailable, but she's waiting on a couple of calls from some of her health care providers. So...if you were thinking of giving her a call -- do! Just not right now.

Thanks, angels.

-tkp

Late post

The brightness setting on my iphone is turned to minimum, and this moment I'm lying in bed--tired but clean after a night's work and a hot shower--next to a sleeping Jen. It's late on a Sunday night/Monday morning; we've been home from the hospital two full days.

Life around us clatters along, sometimes collapsing right in our view. From where we are it appears amusing, breathtaking, wretched, heartbreaking--mostly heartbreaking. Regardless, we can't seem to allow it in, fully.

Jen's survival--though no longer in immediate jeapordy--is still all that matters. We haven't found a way to evolve, and, I think, neither of us feels it would be right to, yet.

But, the fact is that when the outside does take it's chance to flow on in, it's--as I've said all along--the most healing thing there is. Every time I witness that occurrence, and I see her become engaged with someone or something, I'm reminded of everything that I love about Jen Zarnoch. Then, I know again that it's all going to be ok.

Heading out, people

Jen has been discharged from the hospital, but we are waiting here at Providence Cancer Center until all the formalities (such as the lost prescriptions, for instance) are set straight. She'll probably be home by 7:00 PM Pacific.

When first confronted with the fact of her release, Jen experienced a wave of PTSD-like dread. Even to me, the fact that she was this close to an exceedingly serious condition after her last release is kind of abstract. To her it's still a very real and present thing. Through tears, she said to me, "I'm not sure if there's something I should be worried about…something that can happen that I'm not thinking of, or not." That made my heart break. 

But, at the moment, she is feeling pretty good, and I expect that she will feel great when she walks in (to a super-clean house!) and sees those joyfully cats running toward her.

We'll let you know how it goes.

Tomorrow?

Jen is pretty much cleared for takeoff, here. We just need to feel it ourselves in order to make it happen. Last time she should never have left, and that could have gone way, way worse. So, there is a bit of reluctance on our part this time. Nevertheless, as of an hour ago, when her latest CT scan came back clear, there no longer seems to be any remaining medical reasons for Jen to stay in the hospital--that we know of. Tomorrow, she'll get to talk with Dr. Whiteford and hopefully have any remaining doubts assuaged. If so, then we can probably be home directly after that, or Saturday at the latest.

On that point, we are told that a cleaning crew came to our house today and transformed it into a place fit to heal in. This, the result of an amazing gift of good friends. What a huge difference that will make for Jen as she arrives home. It will also be nice for the arriving mama-Jane, on Saturday night. For this, we are grateful, to say the least. 

Sounds Familiar

Doing really great...

except the nausea.

That's right—Jen looks ready for release from the hospital. Her white blood cell count is down to normal, her surgical wound looks good, she has no fever, two of three drains are removed, she's eating pretty well, her outputs are normal—she is in the midst of an archetype perfect recovery...

except the nausea.

If that scenario seems eerily reminiscent of the last time—you know, all the way back on March 17th, when she was released with a leaking anastomosis and the beginnings of a potentially deadly infection—I agree. But, there are a few important differences. 

First of all, we're all on edge. She is. I am. You are. And, most importantly, her doctors are. Everybody wants to make certain. Secondly, we already know what's wrong—a leak created an infection. The question is only, did we get the infection enough so that her body can take care of the rest? Or, are there some bigger pockets still in need treatment?

Thirdly, she feels better. As I wrote in previous post, she never felt right the last time around. She ran a continuous low fever, her belly was distended, she suffered nightly sheet-soaking sweats, she had more pain. Since Dr. Ahmad cleaned her out, however, she has felt generally well.

So—how to make certain? A CT scan. She drinks a quart of truly vile liquid (a contrast dye solution), and they look at her guts in multi-layered detail. From this, we are told, they can measure whether she is suffering the effects of remaining infection in her abdomen. If so, they will increase her antibiotics, and probably give her another drain. 

This is what happened an hour ago, and we are now awaiting results. In the meantime, the patient is sleeping off the experience, Papa Joe—who was able to stay long enough to see her through drinking the contrast dye before having to jet off to catch his plane—is on the road, and the "willing and able partner," me, is preparing himself for "wound care" training. Don't ask.

Rough Evening, Bright Morning

Last night Jen got progressively nauseous after dinner—until she finally did throw up an hour later. It was uncomfortable, as we all can relate to, but it was also painful, scary, and reminiscent of those life-threatened moments just hours before emergency surgery.

But, she felt better afterwards and she slept well last night. This morning, the docs all swept in with their white coats flapping, the affable Dr. Cho now suddenly accompanied by two fuzzy-chinned residents. One of them has apparently been assigned to Jen, and he does all the talking now while Cho leans quietly against the counter.

It's weird because we've been putting all our faith and hope in Dr. Cho. As a "Fellow," he's not one of the main surgeons—like Whiteford and Ahmad. But, Cho is the workhorse as far as Jen's care is concerned, and now he's laying out for this prepubescent guy wearing way...seriously...way, way too much cologne. They were in here an hour ago, and you can still smell the guy.

Nevertheless, the resident seems nice enough, truth be told, and maybe knowledgeable—who knows how much Cho told him to say and how much he really knows? But the main thing, what I'm getting at, is that "Dr Smelly Pants" (you wear that much scent around JZ, you're gonna get a new name) "decided" to remove another one of her drains.

Down to one!

And there is more great news: her white blood cell count is down to normal—with no fever running now, she *appears* to be infection free. They theorized that one of the antibiotics might have brought on the nausea and, since those have run their course and are no longer needed, she can be free of those too.

No doubt, there will be more difficult moments. But, ever since Dr. Ahmad (whose presence we miss terribly) cleaned out Jen of the terrible infection that occurred after her (successful!) (mostly) bowel resection and anastomosis, she has felt, by and large, much better than she ever did after the first time.

We're on a new trajectory towards full health. It's the one which we had originally hoped and expected to be on after surgery #1, but setbacks absolutely do happen. The trick is to not despair. We had to suffer some serious heartbreak, and Jen some even more serious pain and misery. But, that's OK—we're wiser now (hello, First Noble Truth!), and, by the time this is all behind us, will have that much more to offer the world.

Home, we think,tomorrow.

Missing mom, waiting at home...

Resting on the famous Barcalounger!—they are more stressed out than they look! 

Brief stop on an amble with Papa Z

Mahakala Protector Peeps allow no evil: Take lightly at your own peril.

Another Correction

A good friend has pointed out a big mistake in my previous post. I'm obviously tired, worn a bit dull. But I'm also dulled some by residual anger that Jenny has to go through any of this sh*t. I'm angry because she could have been spared the extremes of the second surgery, I'm angry that her surgeons office kept putting her off after the first. I'm angry, mostly, that she got cancer at all.

But, I'm not angry that they caught the cancer. I'm very happy that during the first surgery they were able to completely remove it---even if the resection part was a bust.

Jen's first surgery, therefore, was not "failed" as I unadvisedly described it earlier. It was an amazing success, and truly, one if the best things that's ever happened to me.

Post slowdown

Going to try to get back on top of it tonight. As well as keeping you all informed, it has also served as great therapy for me. But the issue is: Exhaustion. Similarly, for those who have been trying to contact Jen or myself and haven't got through yet--you will. We're just wiped out.

Papa Joe has returned for a short stay and that is providing a pleasant change of pace, for sure. And the unwavering support coming from friends and other family, near and far, has kept us both sane and sustained. But remember, less than six weeks ago we didn't know that any of this was going to happen. Cancer itself, scans, ultrasounds, MRIs, scopings, meetings and appointments with countless doctors and medical professionals, two surgeries---one of them failed---and much missed work. It actually is too much.

Too much, yet, as our GP---the excellent Dr. Cynthia Shaff-Chin---said to me yesterday: We adjust, we adapt and we survive; it's what humans do best.

In the meantime, despite exhaustion, pain, and sleep-deprivation, Jen's physical health is improving every day and her discharge from the hospital is imminent (I'm guessing two days). That is, if all continues on the positive trajectory that has been sustained so far.

Today was a great day, in fact, because one of her three abscess drains was removed. For those in the know: yes, it was the most infamous and uncomfortable one. It literally brought tears of joy to Jen's face.

A note: Jenny looks a bit thin because she's lost weight. Far as we can tell this has happened for one reason only, and it's the most obvious one: she hasn't been able to eat much over the last three-plus weeks. But her appetite is returning and, if I know Jen, will return with a proper vengeance pretty soon. She'll put it back, don't worry about that.

Stay tuned. More pics and posts to come...

Sunrise with Hood

Several times a night I am gently woken for various nursing ministrations. Thanks to a shift from my PCA to oral pain meds - which, I admit I was a little resistant to - my pain management lasts longer, and these early morning activities, and trips to the bathroom, are more tolerable. This morning, while Tony (mostly) slept, I asked Katelyn, one of the very sweet, and very Portland CNAs, if we could go on the lam to one of the empty rooms next door. IV pole and multiple cords and tubes in hand, i got a lovely view, and this snap. Happy Easter!

Day in the Life

Good Morning PDX!

Morning Walk

TKP Takes it Easy

Still Life with Daffodils and Peeps

...And Mt. Hood (and a Helicopter Pad)

Dr Ahmad Examines, Consults

JZ Annotates Ahmad's Figure

Missing Label: "Blowout" -- Lower Colon

We Miss Brandee Already

(Those with Excellent Screen Resolution May Note Mt. St. Helens in the Background)

"Dude. Tired of the Camera Thing."

What Makes it All OK

What would have been a droning hospital day...countless visits from the nursing staff, CNA's busting in to take Jen's vitals, arduous trips to the bathroom, pain and discomfort, a PT,  a nutritionist, a case manager, doctors, doctors, doctors and meds, meds, meds...was pleasantly broken up by the well-timed visit of friends, John and Nancy. Their arrival was well-timed because it coincided with Jen's one and only walk today, and they got to come along.

Remember way-back-when, when I wrote that Jen missed the warm halls of the seventh floor? And, upon reading that she demanded a correction ? Well--that correction still stands. She did not miss those halls; she did not want to return to them; it was nice out today, and she would have loved to go to work this morning, come home later to do some gardening under the Portland springtime sun, have a nice dinner, and then maybe watch a movie or be with friends on a Friday night.

So, this sucks. It sucks a lot. Yet, this day was certainly brightened by friends, as certainly every day is in a zillion different ways. And, Jen is indomitable, as we know: the Stubborn knob and the Effervescent knob--both cranked to 11.

Blurry! But, Sweet Shot of Jenny, John & Nancy.

Great Shot by John

"People Die From This"

Sorry. Dramatic. This is actually a happy post. The above quote comes from our new hero, Dr. Ahmad (he with the Scottish lilt), who performed the agonizing and nerve-wracking surgical clean up, last night, on Jen's ravaged-by-infection abdomen. If you are squeamish, cover your ears for this one: He drained over a liter of green puss out of her last night; it had the viscosity of yogurt. The pressure was building up so much that it was literally about to burst out of her body.

People die from this. In this instance, though, Jen's youth and vitality perhaps saved her life. Regardless, immediate surgery was absolutely obligatory.

Luckily, Ahmad is happy both with his own work, and--moreover--with Jen's progress. A few possible problems remain that could result in anything from longer stays in the hospital (she's currently slated to be here for 7-10 days from now), to more surgery. But one of the big ones--which he terrified Jen's sister, Brandee, and me with last night--was the possibility of systemic swelling. This occurs in some people as a result of the jostling of the organs required by a procedure of this type, and can land them in the ICU on a ventilator and dialysis machine. The point: Jen seems to be well beyond this danger.

Most of us know how Jen relates to liquids--she likes them. She likes to drink them, especially water, a lot. Dr. Ahmad left her room after granting her the gift of progress from a mouth swab as the only liquid allowed, to ice chips. Tomorrow, however, she gets to graduate to "Clear Liquids." Jell-O here we come!

She loves her swab!

 

Dr. Ahmad's drawing of her infected abcess--the long, dark area.

Room 728, this time

She'll probably be here for another week, maybe longer.

For those who want to know:

Providence Medical Center
4805 NE Glisan Street
Portland, OR
97213

A walk with Sarah

Ended up doing the whole loop and coming back to her room from the other side. This is less than 24-hours, people. It's amazing what draining a huge infection out of your body will do, isn't it?

Awake. Cogent. Healing already.

This woman is a total warrior. Already had a walk. Well...a short hobble, but it's a start.

Much to be thankful for, much to be wary about as she progresses. Hard to convince ourselves and the medical professionals to look at beautiful young healthy Jen no differently than we do a 68-year old overweight man. But this is the mandate. We now assume the worst. That way we can feel thankful when we find out it's not so bad.

The point is: It feels like this was probably avoidable.

Exhausted. We are all sleeping now.

Out

This surgery was quite a bit more intense than her first one. She had a major infection going, the surgeon was amazed that she hadn't felt worse earlier. He felt that he was able to clean it all out pretty well. She has some significant short-term hurtles to get over in the form of swelling and possible reinfection, but we take it as a sign of her tenacity that the original infection didn'tknock her off her feet. He decided that she didn't need to spend the night in the ICU, so that also is a positive sign.

Mostly as a barometer of his outlook for her recovery, I asked when she might be able to return to work. If all goes well and comlications are limited, then he said she can be back in 6 to 8 weeks from today. That may seem like a long time, but it made me feel good to hear. We just need to get her well--nothing else matters before that.

Based on what he said, I think Jenny is going to be pretty uncomfortable for a little while. She will probably stay in hospital for 7 to 10 more days. My only goal will be to alleiviate her discomfort and keep her on a healing course.

Beyond the initial issues of swelling and infection, which her surgeon is pretty positive about regarding her capacities for fighting off, she has a great deal of healing to do in her intestines. There is a longish road ahead; please keep her in your hearts and minds (I know you will).

She'll be in surgery until 11:00PM

The doctor just sent someone out to inform us.

Jen is now going in for more surgery

The first thing to say is that she is going to be OK. But, her resection has leaked, which sometimes happens, and they need to go in and fix it. Her recovery will be extended for a while; we're not sure how long yet.

She is in surgery now. Your thoughts, prayers, or positive intentions of any type are greatly appreciated.

Re-admitted

Well, the doctor decided to re-admit her because she's been so sick today. He perceived a "mass" around the surgical site, which could have a number causes--the worst of which would be a leak in the bowel resection. But, we do not think that is what's going on. It's too late for a leak; they usually occur in the first three days after surgery, if at all. It's been over two weeks.

So, what if it is a leak? Although that would be a real let-down, because it would involve a surgical remedy, it would still be a relatively easy fix. So says Dr. Cho.

A more likely scenario is that she has an abscess at the site, which they can drain and then send her home. Even better than that is the just-as-possible scenario of it being a hematoma, which will resolve on its own through the amazing powers of the human body's capacities for self-healing.

Jen is presently getting a CT scan. We'll keep you posted.

Challenging Day

Jen's recovery has suffered some more regression today. We are glad to be visiting the docs for a follow-up at 2:00 PM. Her outlook remains positive; we feel this is all part of normal recovery, but she feels really crappy. We are hoping that the problems lie more with the constant battle for perfect meds dosing vs. a perfect process of uncoupling from the meds. Friends who know about these things assure us that this is all a part of the healing process. Indeed, overall she has been doing great.

We'll keep you posted.