Post-Embolization Update

UPDATE (as of 11:00 p.m. on Tuesday, August 17): Dad's embolization procedure went very smoothly. The radiologist went up through his femoral artery (near the hip) and all the way up to his head. He placed a gluey material (chemically, it is very much like Krazy Glue) in the areas that will need to be removed during Dad's next brain surgery. The radiologist who did the procedure was very encouraging and seemed quite pleased with his work. He essentially set the table for Dr. Shahi, who will be going in to remove the newly embolized portion of Dad's cerebral vascular system (the malformed arteries and veins in the back of his brain). That will occur tomorrow afternoon or the next day - after the surgical team is well-rested and ready to rumble.

Mom's spirits are up, in large part because of the information she gleaned from the radiologist post-embolization. His upbeat report, combined with the fact that he finished the embolization in "only" 3.5 hours (when the estimate was 4-6 hours), was somewhat relieving after all the graphic information we had been given about how big/ugly/scary/nasty/risky Dad's AVM was. Dr. Shahi is a highly-regarded neurosurgeon, but his bedside manner is somewhat unusual. He told us yesterday night after the first surgery that Dad is "the sickest person in the whole hospital." He sounded very kind and almost a little cheerful when he said it, so I don't think he meant to alarm us. But he did! Maybe he was trying to keep Mom from asking any more questions... if so, it only worked for that night. If you know Mom, you know that she is a zealous advocate for her friends, and especially her family. Suffice it to say that if you are sick and in the hospital, you want Mom to be there to interrogate your attending medical professionals. She gets answers.

When quizzed by Mom today, the radiologist said that he didn't think Dad would be "locked in." That's the phrase Mom uses to describe a person who has their mental faculties but no physical abilities. He thinks there is a 70% chance that Dad is going to walk again, perhaps with some serious gait issues. The other 30% would include serious mental and/or physical impairment or death, because of the complicated nature of the next surgery.

Mom also was happy to report that Dad kicked both legs pretty hard tonight, and his blood pressure (arterial) went up to the high 160s as the new nursing team tried to insert a new nasogastro tube to keep his stomach empty. The old one was kinked. One nurse worked him over for quite a while and finally gave up. Mom didn't like how high Dad's blood pressure was getting, because it could trigger a new bleed, but they finally decided to give Dad a break to calm down and to get a new, larger one to try later. The failed attempt revealed Dad's leg kick, which is a positive sign.

When the odds are "in your favor," they are fun to talk and think about. However, at the end of the day, relying on odds for comfort gets you straight to "Nowhereville." We are often reminded that this season of life is a marathon with an as-yet-undefined ending; it is not a sprint. Thus, we are plugging away, staring down the "worst case scenario," hoping for the "best case scenario," and praying that God's will would be done in a way that makes us look back someday and go, "Wow, that was pretty cool how things worked out." As Bethany put so aptly in her recent blog post: Odds are odds, but God is God.

In other news, big sister Sarah is doing well. She made a couple of comments when hearing about Dad being in the hospital: "Boy, this reminds me of when Grandma died." And, when I told her that he wouldn't be home for a while because of his hospital stay, she replied: "Pretty weird, isn't it!?" She is very aware of what's going on, but is still processing through it all.

Bethany's pregnancy is proceeding well. She is scheduled to have her third perfect child via C-section on Saturday, so it will be a busy day. By the way, Bethany's writing skills are far better than mine, and her take on this situation is definitely more interesting and tear-jerking than mine could ever be. A good cry does everyone some good once in a while. So check out her blog: thearmstrongbrood.blogspot.com.

Grace is in Antarctica, where she arrived on Sunday. The sun has not come up for the summer yet, but it is partly cloudy and a seasonable -22 degrees Fahrenheit, with a 15 m.p.h. wind, right now. Unfortunately, her passport stayed behind somewhere in New Zealand during her trip to Antarctica. Therefore, getting back home would be a huge challenge. Grace is going to wait and see how things progress before deciding whether to swim/unicycle/hitchhike home from the South Pole. The next plane arriving to drop people off will be there on Friday, which would be as soon as she could leave the ice. Then she'd have to get a passport from a US embassy in Australia or New Zealand. It would be great to see her, but we would totally understand if she chooses to wait it out. After all, Dad would probably tell her to stay there and keep working! :)

It's time for bed... I'll close with a short passage from the Bible that really encouraged me today. As Dad lays comatose on a hospital bed, wrapped tightly in tubes and needles from every direction, I know that he would agree wholeheartedly if he could: "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

May we not lose heart. God is faithful, and He is not finished with any of us yet....