Needing care in ICU

After arriving at UCLA last night, Susan had a neuro exam that led to her most lucid moments of the day. She was alert, responsive and more conversant. We took advantage and made calls to family who were grateful to hear her voice.

A CT scan overnight confirmed there was no new brain hemorrhage. Evidently, the staff at Long Beach had seen existing blood from her event last month and thought it was new – an example of her need to be at UCLA for continuity. The new scan shows the bleed actually has resolved quite a bit, so that’s one less complication.

Today, Susan has been mostly unresponsive and sleeping. They connected a continuous EEG this morning; and she actually had a seizure event during an exam by the neuro team. The fact that she’s been cycling between cloudy and lucid moments daily makes her neuro-oncologist suspect this seizure activity has been going on for a while. It may be caused by general brain trauma or by tumor growth, so an MRI this evening should provide a vital update.

We’ve been concerned since yesterday about low blood pressure; but Susan’s responded to meds that push it up. Meanwhile, she had a feeding tube inserted since seizures can affect her ability to swallow. The ICU staff needed another vein in addition to her port catheter to administer meds, so this afternoon they inserted a central line. In spite of so much turmoil, she continues to fight.

We’ve had some amazing encounters with godly and loving people lately. I was enfolded by the usual flurry of hugs and prayers at church on Sunday. Yesterday, a couple of Long Beach doctors went out of their way to offer kind words and advice. Her ICU nurse there truly ministered to us with loving care and compassion, making a hard day easier. When we arrived at UCLA, the ICU staff here greeted us warmly, with both joy and concern. Susan was last here over a week and a half ago; but the charge nurse came in and said she’d thought of Susan just that morning and prayed for her. We’re so blessed.

I had remarkable experience yesterday as the ambulance crew readied Susan for transfer from Long Beach Memorial to UCLA. I left the seventh floor ICU and encountered a blur of images on my way out. I passed the East ICU wing where I was with Susan the morning of July 5, 2007, after her first brain surgery. Brimming with memory of that day, I descended the stairway and passed the waiting room a floor below where I’d spent the night of the 4th on a lobby seat not designed for sleeping. 

Continuing down the stairwell, I passed the floor where Susan had her mastectomy in 2006 and the floor of the neuro unit where she spent several weeks in 2007 after ICU and then a short stint later in 2008 with back surgery. I passed the cardiac floor where I stayed a few days in early 2011 after having fleeting chest pains chalked up to stress.

I passed the nuclear medicine floor where I had been tested for infertility in 1988 and got disheartening news before we prayed and conceived our girl Lexie. Then I passed the floor of the birthing center where Lexie and Austin came into the world and went on display behind baby gallery glass.

Finally, I descended the extra-long flights to the first floor and passed through the hallway toward the lobby. To the left was the chapel where 20+ people gathered to pray during Susan’s July 4th brain surgery. Then I entered the large waiting area, a site of vigils, laughs and prayers with loved ones and sober conversations with neurosurgeons. I thought of the ER down the hall and our visits there for everything from Austin’s broken wrist to my gall bladder attacks to Susan’s urgent brain tumor events.

Recalling them in the very places they happened, I realized that single building had hosted some of the most significant events in our family’s experience. I took in the perspective and its fullness, which seemed to happen fluidly, floor by floor, revealed by an unseen hand. I realized God can display a catalog of life’s events because he’s been with us for each one. “Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12