They Call Today Mother's Day

I’ve been staying in Searsport Maine for the past 2 weeks, closer to Louise than my home in Hyattsville Maryland. From here, the trip to see her at the hospital is just short of an hour (if you’re in a car I’m driving). An hour away from mom compares now to slivers of seconds over the thirteen-hour car ride north. My apologies for taking a bit of a French leave (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_leave) with regards to Louise’s updates. I will attempt to summarize Louise’s progress over the last few weeks without drawn out stories or details; the facts will be the vehicle and succinct the delivery.

Louise was in ICU (Intensive Care Unit) for a month after the accident. After the surgeries, the staff of the ICU continued to monitor her vitals for weeks until she was stable enough to move to a rehabilitation unit. On any given day, Louise’s temperature would spike, prompting another dose of Tylenol and plenty of inquiries: What was causing it? What did it mean? Did she have an infection? Was she going to be OK? Should we take her covers off? Should we put a fan on her? Every little bleep of the monitor was an alert that told us something was wrong. It told the nurses something different – to give her something to stop the beeping. And medication always stopped the beeping. Her heart beat out of rhythm on a couple of occasions (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atrial_fibrillation), which not only brought out the drugs, but the paddles as well. Thankfully they were not needed. If I had been there, perhaps I would have needed them. When her blood pressure fell, drugs fixed that too.

Louise had many tubes, needles and pegs going into and coming out of her body, providing a system of pathways for food, drugs and excretions. As a result of the shock to her body, there wasn’t as much stuff leaving as entering; and in her ICU bed, Louise lay swollen and puffy. To grasp her hand was like holding onto an over-inflated latex glove or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stay_Puft_Marshmallow_Man.

Gradually Louise lost the fluids that gave her skin and flesh the appearance of a wrinkle-free newborn. Louise looked more like Louise. As she stabilized, her days in ICU became numbered. She would soon check into a new room where she would meet a new team of doctors, nurses and physical, occupational and speech therapists.

*          *          *

When I arrived back at Eastern Maine Medical Center, I was blown away by Mom’s appearance; in her new bed, her blue eyes were there to greet me, her face no longer showing signs of recent trauma. I had received reports from Larry, Kim and Yvonne while away. I knew that the puffiness had given way to muscle and bone that had not resisted gravity in 5 weeks; Louise was now slightly underweight and losing muscle tone. There she was, though, moving her extremities, mumbling, sometimes saying words and slowly finding her way back to back to us.

This trip to see Mom was very different than the last. I now had the experience of time and expectation; the more time removed from the accident combined with reports of steady progress made the reunion less distressing. She looked great. I was happy. Her toes were talking, walking and tapping a mile a minute when I walked into the room. If she knew it was her son at the foot of her bed, then she must have been happy to see me. I talked to her and took in her new condition. I started to think about the next steps.

Louise has been, and is making progress. She’s been tracking people with her eyes, she’s responding to people speaking to her and she’s able to hold her head up while sitting. These are giant steps toward recovery. Every day there’s a new jumped hurdle. She’s been receiving therapy every day, multiple times a day from occupational, physical and speech therapists. She’s often tired but to see and hear her count to 5, then 10, and on to 14 does reflect continued development and progress; her every achievement feeds the hopes and wishes of her family and friends.

Some of you may be wondering how she can speak with a trach (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tracheal_tube#Tracheostomy_tube). She was fitted with a smaller device, which has a plug in it for preventing air from leaving or entering through her throat and allowing her to inhale and exhale through her mouth. This allows her to speak. And she has been speaking. When she’s alert, she can answer basic questions. She surprises us every day with new words and actions. She’s been saying the Hail Mary in French!  And the jingle from Scooby Doo!

Louise started eating and drinking too - ice cream and applesauce from a spoon and water from a straw. Soon they will start giving her food more regularly.

They call today Mother’s Day. Louise and I are sitting next to each other looking out a large window into the sunny Bangor morning watching trees sway and clouds float by. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

LOVE U MOM

Message to the People

Dear All,

A big THANKS to everyone who has been reading the blog -  for your comments, feedback and most importantly, for sharing positive wishes, thoughts, words, prayers, feelings, kindness and stories. I encourage people to post messages to Louise (and her community of supporters) in the comments section of each blog entry. I also encourage you to share any anecdotes, adventures, poems that remind you of Louise, or that would perhaps give us all some inspiration and hope; stories, from days of yore to present times, will help us celebrate Louise and her road to recovery. Messages are nice as well - especially messages to Louise. When I return to Maine in the coming weeks, I promise I will read everything people write to her. I also promise to try to post more frequent updates. You may, as many of you have, send comments to me too.  Please indicate to me in your comments if you do not want something posted.

Here's to Louise's recovery!

David

Pictures of Louise #3

The following pictures are from a trip to Maine a couple of summers ago. Mom and I drove down to Camden Maine to hike Mount Battie, picking blueberries along the way.

"I'm your Mother!"

Wild Maine Blueberries

Surger-Week

Imagine driving down a two lane road through a dilapidated mill town, speed limit 25, a lazy river on your immediate right and a steep hill covered in trees on your left, obscuring what you know are old houses built when the mills were buzzing and grinding one hundred years before.  Opposite the road’s riverbank are the old brick shells of factories, which once used the river to generate power to make machines, tools, firearms, clothing and paper. The warm temperature and late afternoon reddish glow suggest late summer and you are driving somewhere, perhaps running an errand, or on your way home from the first shift at the last operational paper mill in town. You weave along the river’s bends and slam your brakes when a red hatchback ahead of you comes to an abrupt stop. A woman climbs out of the 72 AMC Gremlin clutching the area to the right of her stomach, tightly, and approaches you. As she arrives at your window, you notice two children in the car she just evacuated - she asks if you will take her and her twins to the hospital.

*          *          *

Some of the finer details may have been pieced together from supposition and creative license, however, the event did take place - a random stranger in Fitchburg Massachusetts did drive a young woman having a gallbladder attack and her two kids to Burbank Hospital. 
To young children, confusion and fear would seem natural reactions to such an occurrence. For me, however, watching my mom, in pain, take control and reach out to the world for help was a sign of strength. Witnessing this constitution separated my mom, Louise, from all other women; her ‘do what it takes’ attitude that I’ve grown to admire and often subscribe, the mold for her mettle.

I don’t remember the hospital at all; I’ll have to ask Louise, when she wakes what happened. With certainty, I can say that she did leave the hospital a little lighter – the weight of a gallbladder. Louise will be a little lighter after this trip to the hospital too - the difference of a spleen.

In one week Louise had multiple surgeries, the first resulting in a spleen removal and repairs to vascular and organ tissue - the 2^nd, 3^rd and 4^th surgeries were scheduled to repair her wrist, face and knee.

*          *          *

Dr. Figueiredo explained the wrist procedure. He would clean the open wound, re-attach torn tendons, place rods, pins and screws in her wrist, hand and forearm to make room for and allow the multiple fractured bones to fuse and heal, and finally, close it all up. Louise would need to undergo anesthesia; Larry would need to give consent.

The waiting room is no place for waiting. The air is a natural breeding ground for wild speculation and anxiety, not entirely conducive to the relaxed and comfortable setting we desired. It was, however, where the doctor instructed us to meet him after the surgery. Time passed while walks and naps were taken. A woman, who looking for a decent wireless signal found only one in the entire hospital, in the waiting room, skyped loudly in the corner. A program about Nostradamus played on the television – I watched briefly to see if there were any predictions made about Louise. Food was nibbled and thoughts were digested. Magazine and newspapers were glanced at but not read. And finally the doctor arrived. Dr. Figueiredo gave us a breakdown of the surgery, complete with x-rays and a smile. 

Screws in hand

Screws in Radius - Pin securing Radius and Ulna

Fractures

He was pleased with the surgery and reported neither infection nor complication. The wrist and forearm fractures were placed in their proper positions while an internal pin through the Ulna and Radius prevented their rotation. External rods, held in place by screws to the Radius and hand, gave the support needed for several weeks of rebuilding and recovery. Torn tendons were sewn while the other end of a severed tendon was left for lost; an under-used tendon often used for harvesting. She should gain much functionality but would have some limits to her range of motion; further surgeries might be necessary to gain that mobility back. A bandage and cast obscured all points of entry from the afternoon’s ordeal.

Post Surgery

Per the doctors’ and nurses’ suggestion, I shifted my sleeping quarters to a room more conducive to resting; I moved from a firm and uneven foldout chair in a hospital room surrounded by neon displays and a symphony of alarms, to a comfortable bed in a room with a view; I woke to the light of day illuminating the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean, taking the needed rest the doctors’ prescribed, while remaining in contact with the staff of the ICU via telephone. At Larry and Louise’s house I cooked for the gang and played a little guitar; I took morning walks at Moose Point State Park and along the water at the Belfast Marina; I ate breakfast at the Belfast CO-OP. Kim and I reminisced about our childhood with Mom as she happened across boxes stuffed with old memories and priceless childhood relics.  Was our mother really holding onto these things! A report card from kindergarten revealed I had difficulties with the letter q! Ha! 

Moose Point State Park

*          *          *

There were two other surgeries that week - her face and her knee. Another round of anesthesia meant another release; a spike in temperature meant a tube of Tylenol; another day meant another trip to the hospital – and another trip past the scene of the accident.

Louise was sedated all week. And in combination with residual anesthesia, it was unlikely Louise would be able to wake. I continued to stay at the house at night and started a blog to keep people informed of the events that had happened.

*          *          *

Louise needed, and received, a tracheostomy, so that the breathing tube would not obstruct her next procedure. She also had her feeding tube, previously running into her stomach through her mouth, inserted directly into her stomach for the same reason.  

Dr. Crowley, the maxillofacial surgeon, performed the facial surgery. He reconnected Louise's broken upper jaw by attaching small metal plates to the pieces and joined them together. He used her lower jaw as a guide for positioning the repaired upper jaw and wired the two shut. It’ll be about eight weeks before the wires can come out. The repair brought Louise’s eyes back to their normal position and her nose now sits on top of an area where the regrowth of new cartilage and bone will need to take place in order to secure it. Dr. Crowley said that the sinus bone (one of the many forehead bones) was fractured but that it did not require attention. He was pleased with the results; he had seen much worse.

Another signature meant another operation. Dr. Oldenburg carried out the repair of the Tibial Plateau of Louise’s left knee, the simplest of the surgeries. The top of the lower leg bone, where it meets the knee, needed to be repositioned.  This was much quicker and came with less anxiety than the previous; another surgery resulted in another positive outcome. Whew! Louise was about to receive a much-welcomed respite from knives and anesthesia.

*          *          *

Louise’s body is now in a position to repair and heal – to regrow skin, bone, cartilage, hair, and tissue. The team of doctors, nurses and technicians has prepared Louise for the toughest battle – waking up.

From the hilly terrain between house and hospital to the emotional temperament of Louise’s loved ones, the week saw many ups and downs. We all will have to continue hoping, waiting, and for those who pray, praying. 
For Louise, we must be as strong as she; we will need to exhibit the same bravery and fortitude that she showed when she stopped a stranger and asked for a ride to the hospital more than 30 years ago.

Pictures of Louise #2

Here are some more pictures from the house. This recent family photo was on the fridge while the 2nd, an oldie but goodie, was found in a box.

Day at the LA Zoo - Dec. 2010 (right to left: Louise, Anthony, David, Kim, Tony and Alex)

Wedding Day - 1985

Wrists

During early May in the late seventies, I tried, unsuccessfully, to create a hole in the side of an empty glass bottle while waiting for my mom to return home from work. (Sitting still was something at which I wasn’t very good; by today’s standards I would have surely been diagnosed deficient in attentiveness and over-prescribed some unnecessary drug.)  I don’t remember much about the bottle, other than the fact that it was clear. (And it may not have been clear, but for some reason, an 8 oz. clear orange crush bottle made its way into past reports and recounts of the story.)

Where we lived had a concrete porch. I remember banging that bottle gently against the side of a stair while Kim, most likely, cartwheeled on the side yard – her legs cutting the air while a glass bottle remained perfectly intact in my hands.

I was a pretty smart kid. I knew physics and I knew that if one banged with enough force, glass would lose a fight to concrete. So I banged and banged and I banged some more until I proved myself successful. Concrete did win out over glass – Hooray! But the physics principle I hadn’t learned yet, the one about the displacement of energy though a 1970s glass bottle, was about to be realized. The glass would take its scientific revenge on me by shattering and displacing its energy into the skin, flesh and tendons of my left wrist. My mom, Louise, met me at the hospital. She told me I had given her her first gray hairs. 

Wristband from my surgery - Late 70s

 

*          *          *

I arrived at the hospital the morning after the accident. I tried to imagine the elephant man in preparation for what I was about to see, however, no preparation could have prepared me for witnessing my mother unconscious, almost unrecognizable under the swelling, broken bones, breathing tube, and stitches. I lost the ability to speak. I gained a few more gray hairs. 

Louise's Wristband

She lay quite cherub-like as a result of the swelling, but still beautiful, still Louise, still my mom. In that condition, she may have been a stranger to most who knew her. If she weren’t my mother, I may not have recognized her. She never forgot to tell me who she was – “It’s your mother”, she would say, when I’d pick up the phone. After seeing her on the bed for the first time and after collecting my breath, I said, “Mom, it’s David”.

I stayed with her and the crew of the ICU for days. My focus, on the bleeps and bops, pings and pangs of the ICU, Room 134 monitors; my sensors always keenly aware of her blood pressure, temperature, heart and breathing rates. The nurses were amazing; Brooke, Shyla, Heidi, Melissa, Amy and many others were always available to give Louise the attention she needed and answer my questions, as repetitive and silly as they may have seemed - never with pretense, and always with compassion.

Over the course of the four days succeeding the accident, the doctors and nurses kept Louise’s vitals in balance. A slight temperature, a drop in blood pressure, an increased heart rate or quickened breathing rate brought the attention of the staff and an increase, decrease, removal or addition of some medication. This was the roller coaster that Larry, Yvonne, Kim and I (and Louise) were riding. As many doctors reminded us – 2 steps forward, one step back.

The doctors making up Louise’s trauma team were great too. They took great care in explaining Louise’s particular conditions, and like the nurses, answered our many questions in as much or little detail as required. We would meet with Orthopedists, Maxillofacial Surgeons, Neurologists, and other specialists who would start the fixing five days after the accident. The first surgery scheduled was the wrist. During the explanation of the impending procedure, I cringed: Open wound, broken bones, torn tendons.

I slept in a chair; Nurses changed shifts at 7am and 7pm; Doctors woke me up on their morning rounds; I showered in the hospital.   During those first few days, Louise’s body remembered its rhythms and flows. Her frame stirred when it was morning, quickening her heart rate and accelerating her breathing. At bedtime, the monitors would settle down; I could get some sleep.

And wait for the wrist surgery.

Trip to the Hospital

It took Louise and her husband Larry several years to move to Maine. Larry retired and spent months at a time, over the course of those years, building their retirement home on a plot of land, perched on the side of a hill overlooking the stretch of ocean between Belfast Bay and Searsport Harbor. For years Louise and Larry took trips to the area, staying at a The Admiral Inn, a roadside motel, just short of a mile from where they would eventually nest. Larry talked about retiring in Maine since the day I met him, some 25 years ago. No more trips to Maine; they were now Mainers.
 

They did, however, take trips in Maine, driving all over the place, as retired people tend to do. Larry and Louise would get in the car and take off to visit the malls or to take in the natural beauty of their new state. She’d tell me often that she was heading to Bangor looking for good deals on fabric or to find pottery to fit their new house. Last Wednesday morning it was to gather with her quilting friends. She was always on the go. 

A helicopter ride may not have been the sort of ride Louise would want to take as she is very prone to motion sickness. It may have been her first-ever helicopter ride!  One account said it took 6 minutes to get from the scene of the accident to the hospital. You don’t often think of in-flight service including intubation – especially on such a short flight! 

I think of the people there to greet her - without shock, without reservation, without hesitation; waiting on the helipad to take her to a room where they would give her 11 units of blood (the average body has 15), and start the repairing. They, the members of a Trauma Team at EMMC, repair bones, fix organs, mend tissue and restore vessels. They read charts, use tools and know medicine. They have experience and our faith. And they joined the fight to keep Louise breathing, pumping, living. 

Louise’s known injuries included: ruptured spleen, punctured bowel, fractured left tibial plateau, fractured right wrist (including the radius and ulna), torn tendons in her right wrist, severed artery in her right arm, fractured pelvis, fractured sternum, fractured neck vertebrae, fractured sinus bone, fractured maxilla, brain and brain stem contusions. This list includes known injuries, some of which were repaired when Louise arrived at the hospital.

While Louise was in the OR, the officer at the scene of the accident drove to Louise and Larry’s house to inform Larry what had happened. Larry and a neighbor drove to the hospital and waited.

Calls were made. Strength was summoned. Yvonne, Louise’s sister in Louisiana, contacted my sister Kim in California. She contacted me. The three of us would scramble our lives to make it to Bangor - to be by Louise’s bedside.

Louise lost most of her blood and her list of injuries upon entering the hospital was vast. She somehow managed to keep her strength - making it through the life flight, the trauma surgery and the first night.

Pictures of Louise #1

Kim has been organizing Mom's "quilting room" in preparation for her eventual return home. She ran across a few pictures that I had to post. They are gems.

News Report from March 25th

Click Here

The Accident

I’m not exactly sure how to start this, so I will just roll out the facts as we received them; I will digest, in chronological order, the horror that befell the morning of the 23^rd of March of the year 2011.

Louise is a quilter. Like a single block of fabric in an intricate quilt pattern, she was a member of a community of quilt makers; the stiches that connected Louise to her quilting communities were the hours spent teaching, showing and discussing the craft amongst her sisters of the stitch; hanging with her stitch and bitch buddies. Louise was on her way to one of these assemblages in Bangor Maine early one morning.

As she had many times before, Louise made her way north from her home in Searsport, Maine, along the meandering rocky coast that defines the Searsport and Stockton Harbors, then headed north, away from the ocean on route 1A, winding through the small towns and communities that spot the rolling hills between Searsport and Bangor (see picture).  Approaching the small village of Frankfort, Louise would have slowed to 25mph as she passed the general store and fire station, snaking through the town center before climbing a long hill and accelerating toward the 50 mph speed limit. What happened on that stretch of back road in the moments after Frankfort disappeared from Louise’s rearview grips the breath and shadows the sight.

William Hinkle Jr. was driving southbound on Route 1A, between the communities of Winterport and Frankfort; he was driving the same road, and at the same time, on which Louise was driving north. It was reported that William started to pass a vehicle in front of him by entering the opposite lane where his vehicle collided with Louise’s Subaru. 

I wish I could report the names of the individuals that responded without hesitation. According to the police report, someone who witnessed the collision called 911 immediately. Fortunately the fire station was close by and the 1^st responders were there within minutes, using the Jaws of Life to rip the top of the Subaru away and remove Louise from the heap of metal. The EMTs and the LifeFlight pilot took over from there, keeping Louise stable while getting her to the East Maine Medical Center (EMMC) in Bangor.

The tremendously talented trauma team of EMMC continued to work on Louise when the LifeFlight helicopter arrived. The reporting officer contacted Larry, Louise’s husband; Phone calls were made; Flights were booked; Fingers were crossed. 

Louise's Geisha Quilt 2010

Louise's most recent completed work

Newspaper Articles

The following links contain pictures of the accident scene:

#1 Click Here

#2 Click Here

Louise was involved in a serious car accident on March 23rd, 2011

Louise and he grandson Alex in December 2010

On the morning of March 23rd, Louise was driving her Subaru when another motorist crossed into her lane, from the opposite direction, while attempting to pass another vehicle. The other motorist, William Hinkle Jr., struck Louise head-on. A witness contacted 911 immediately and LifeFlight was dispatched. All people involved with getting her from the vehicle to the hospital, and the doctors that operated on her, saved her life and have kept hope alive for all of her family and friends. I have created this blog to keep these people informed of Louise's progress and to post pictures and accounts of day-to-day events. And to allow people to share support, tell stories or just celebrate Louise and her recovery.