Making progress

The 24 hours since Susan’s surgery have gone well. Her CT scan last night showed the VP shunt is placed properly with no bleeding in her brain. She’s had some pain at the surgery site, but only accepted pain meds once today. While some of her cognitive fog has lifted, she’s still quite weak physically.

Surgically speaking, she’s doing well enough that the neurosurgery resident is ready to release her from the hospital. Physically though, the therapist recommends she move to an acute rehab facility. Unable to stand on her own at all or with assistance for long, and unable to grip a walker with her right hand, we expect she’ll get stronger with 3-5 days of aggressive therapy so she can transition home. This afternoon, we met with the clinical social worker who’s making the arrangements.

Later, I went across the street to the old hospital to look around and buy a t-shirt at the health sciences student store. Near the west elevators I ran into Dr. Bergsneider and Dr. Shafa, both neurosurgeons, as they were leaving for the day. I thanked Dr. Bergsneider for his good work with Susan’s surgery yesterday and then I re-acquainted myself with Dr. Shafa, who happens to help my mother monitor her meningioma. It’s a benign brain tumor diagnosed about 30 years ago, but that's another story. 

With that chance meeting, we’re thankful to be on the neurosurgery friends and family plan at UCLA and grateful for all the caring doctors and nurses who helped us this week. We’re especially glad Susan is making progress and can get on with the next phase of recovery.

More hospital observations 
When you walk up to the cafeteria cashier lady with a hot beverage while she’s coughing but she needs to know what kind of hot beverage you’re buying so she stops and says “Coffee?” and you say, “No, but you are,” then that’s kind of funny because you really do have coffee.

When a social worker lady you don’t know walks into your wife’s room while she’s sleeping and looks at you and asks if you’re your wife’s son and you tell her you’re her husband and the social worker lady says the son asked for a letter and you say you’re not the son and you tell the social worker lady she must have the wrong room and then the social worker lady turns away with a look of disbelief as she mutters something about talking to the nurse and then you ask her if she’s giving out letters and she laughs as she’s leaving – when that happens, you turn to your now-awake wife and say, “I was hoping she’d give me a letter. They’re expensive at UCLA.”