Hospital Saga--4

My mother's heart surgery was two days ago. While much went right during that time, enough went wrong to make us very aware of how fragile life can be.

Heart surgery is not pretty. A marvel, but still not pretty. If Mom could remember what all she has felt during the past number of hours, I believe she would wish to have died rather than to have experienced that. Her memory is mercifully vague, but it was hard to watch.

Mom needed seven units of blood plus two units of platelets. The post surgery bleeding became a real concern--so much so that until 9:00 that evening (She got out of surgery around 11:30.), her doctors were keeping open the possibility of taking her back into surgery. The bleeding gradually slowed during the evening hours, while people were praying in response to a call that went out to our church people. The next morning Murat, the Turkish PA who was helping take care of Mom, told us, "She was critical yesterday, but then she slowly turned the corner." (I'm seeing a pattern here. They tell you afterward how bad things were.)

Reports during and after surgery were good if a bit guarded. She was doing as well as could be expected. At the time it felt very good indeed, especially after the anesthesiologist (Is that the right word?) told Dad before the surgery that "I have to tell you that this is a very high risk surgery." What does one do with information like that, except pray hard--for help and for acceptance of God's will?

The morning of the surgery, LaVerne and Rebecca, our deacon and his wife, came bearing a big box of doughnuts and another generous box of wonderful food from Edward and Alma, Carla and Norma. It was comfort food in the best sense of the word. There in the waiting room, we ate and talked and laughed and tried not to worry together, and after the surgery was over, we prayed a thanksgiving prayer together.

I haven't seen Mom since last evening, at the end of my last 36-hour hospital stint. She had managed only one sip of water several times, and eaten a few bites of jello by that time. Her throat hurt from the breathing tube (ventilator) she had been on till the morning after the surgery, and I suspect that she was almost too weak and tired to draw the water up through a straw. It would rise in the straw almost to her lips, and then it would fall back into the glass without any of it getting into her mouth.

Today her nurse asked us to try to get her to eat anything at all. "We can deal with the sugar and salt," he said. "If she wants something from McDonalds, go get her something from McDonalds." I can't imagine that Morphine, dopamine, insulin, Amiodoron, Lasix, and antibiotics do much to increase her appetite either. She was getting some of all those drugs.

When she thought she was hungry for fish and they got some for her from Long John Silver, she ate two bites and stalled out. "I've never before had to work so hard at eating," she said. This was a longer voluntary speech than any we had heard from her since the surgery, and the utterance was more remarkable than the sentiments. Those were already obvious.

Besides her being more verbal today than before, those who were there today saw other improvements. She spent several hours in a chair. Her color had improved, and she was more alert overall. Her vital signs were fairly stable, and her blood pressure had improved.

I'm cautiously hopeful that things will improve noticeably every day from here on. However, it looks likely that the precarious balancing act underway now will have to be continued for some time.

Keeping her blood pressure up is important. IV fluids help with that, as does giving her dopamine. However, her body is still not working off its fluids normally, so it's easy to overdo these measures. Her swollen hands and feet tell us that fluids have already backed up in her chest cavity, creating a pneumonia hazard and making deep breathing difficult or impossible. To compensate for the fluid buildup, she's getting a diuretic, but this lowers the blood pressure.

Keeping her pain levels bearable is important too. Morphine helps with that, but tends to lower her blood pressure. Having her in a sitting position feels more comfortable to Mom, but this tends to lower her blood pressure also.

Medicine is called a healing art. Nowhere is it more obvious than in a case like this where many things that are known scientifically still cannot guarantee results or always give a clear sense for what is best. In some measure, intuitive and subconscious calculations enter in, and a judgement call involves many ways of knowing. Who knows how often these judgement calls have been illuminated and made effective by the grace of God in response to people's prayers? I believe this is one way that Mom is being helped, by her doctors practicing medicine as science and art, with the wisdom of God giving guidance.

Except for giving her platelets, which is fairly routine in heart surgery patients, I suspect that Mom's doctors can't point to a single thing they did that helped stop Mom's bleeding on Monday afternoon and evening. That's what God can do--bring about change when neither science nor art are enough. Thanks you for offering prayers that can move the hand of God.