Many people heard that Kass is back in the hospital, but since the details were choppy at best, I thought i'd give a quick blog recap. (Ha! A long-winded person giving a "quick recap")
We had a long day yesterday, and an even longer night. Kass has a beautiful corner private room facing east with an en-suite bathtub. As I watch the sunrise in shades of pink against the purple clouds, I'm trying to grasp the greatness of our God. Unfortunately, the Starbuck protruding on the horizon keeps distracting me and interrupting my thoughts. Much like our circumstance, we are trying to see God's big plan, but I am wrongly focusing on things close at hand. They seem so important now, but are truly inconsequential on a grander scale. (or is it a Grande scale?)
Last Saturday, January 28, Kass and Kimber's Awana Trek Team won first place. As you can imagine, there was great celebration - Jr. High Mosh Pit style. In the excitement, a team-mate hugged her neck (surgical site) while jumping up and down. She immediately "felt" it, and started experiencing headaches again. They have been progressing over the past 10 days. Though we had MRI's and appointments scheduled, yesterday morning at 7, she said, "You need to take me to the hospital to get morphine." Simply, the pain is no longer tolerable or manageable.
We went to Dell Children's in Austin. Within 30 minutes of walking in the door, they had already given her the morphine - even though we hadn't seen the doctor. Sadly, the morphine didn't touch the pain. They gave her something stronger. That seemed to help for a while. When her pain returns, the base pain slowly rises, but there are spikes of pain that come in waves. Before I get ahead of myself, Dell would not admit her because they did not do the original surgery. Though they tried to contact our neuro-surgeon for several hours, he was in surgery (surprise) and would not answer his page. Finally, he "accepted her", so Kevin and Kass took the hour+ ambulance ride to Temple Children's.
In the meantime, I stopped by Kimber's school to reassure her. It was 10 minutes well spent, but difficult to be so torn. I also ran home, packed, and ran to the hospital. We are so blessed to have 75mph speed limits in Texas! No need to speed illegally.
Another side note is that Kevin has a few cracked ribs from a friendly football game on Sunday. He was planning to spend the day on the laptop in bed - propped up with pillows and water with bendy straws. Instead, he sat in waiting room chairs, and rode sideways in an ambulance.
Too bad I don't need to explain the ER experience - as everyone from America knows the drill. In a nutshell, she had an MRI, and we waited for the doctor to bring results. In all, we were in "ER" from 815 until 445 until we had an answer. The MRI shows nothing from a surgical standpoint. The drugs that "help-but-don't-help" are becoming less and less effective after every dosage. She was finally able to articulate that the drugs don't really help with the pain, but they make her loopy enough not to concentrate on anything, so she just ignores it. I'm not sure if she sleeps or rests; if it's sleep, it's not deep.
The doctors on the night shift don't really know what to make of it. So far, she's seen 6 doctors that all go through the same barrage of questions (which is getting REALLY bothersome to her). The general consensus is that every test they run is normal, but they can see that she is "clinically" not right. We've gone from honest humility of, "I have no idea, but I'll try to make her comfortable", to other logical ideas that I'm not against trying. So far, nothing seems to be making a difference.
Kevin went home last night. Sadly, we read that homes in our city were robbed in broad daylight (while people were home) and something about a tazer. I don't know the details, but Kevin does. Since that news report, he won't leave Kimber home alone to do homeschool. As I type, the two of them are on their way up - trying to get here before shift change and we start all over again. Instead of annoyance (which is close to the surface) I choose to see it as a fresh set of eyes on the problem. As Melinda Mullis said, it is similar to House; a group of doctors trying to figure it out. Everyone who knows me knows that I can certainly provide enough drama for a TV show.
For Kass, she basically is to the point of pain (and exhaustion) that she no longer moves or speaks. When they ask her something, she says, "Ask her". When they ask her to rate her pain she says, "It hurts." I know the pain is increasing when her breathing has unintentional little animal whimper noises. I know the pain is bad when tears roll down her face - even when she's "snoring". I'm not sure if it's the nausea or what, but she also says, "I don't feel good," but can't describe more or be more specific.
Kass has four dimples; two that most people see, and two that rarely make an appearance. Only when she smiles REALLY big and is REALLY happy about something will all four show up. I can rate her happiness by how many dimples I see. Many times, when she wants something like a new book or a GiGi's cupcake, she will bribe me by saying, "I'll show you my dimples!" As I watched her face pinched and drawn from the pain last night, I couldn't help reflecting how much I wanted her to be at the point where she can flash me a four dimple smile. It seems so far off...
Finally, I am wondering at what point I push her being transferred to Houston Children's (#2 nation pediatric neurology). I've mentioned it (more than once), but it's somewhat insulting to the doctors. I try to be as nice and apologetic as I can be, but it is my baby!
So, for those of you praying. Please pray that we can figure out how to manage pain for the immediate. If she could truly be comfortable, then we could be more patient waiting for the diagnosis. Please pray for poor Kimber; it's not easy being trapped in a no-win situation where you want to be with your sister, but don't want to watch her in pain. Pray for Kevin to be able to get comfortable and relax with his ribs while he sits in these hospital chairs. (Once he's sitting, he's fine. It's just moving and breathing that bugs him.) Pray that we could find a "Doctor Dream Team" that would figure out what in the world is happening, and that they'd find the right treatment. Pray that we would focus on the big picture instead of the little things.
The sun just poked over the clouds. I can't see the Starbucks sign even if I tried. If I try to look at the sunrise, it's power is too strong. At this eye-level I can't see the sun, but I can feel the warmth on my cheek. It's light is casting one small beam on Kassie's face - right where those four dimples would be! I'm reassured; I know where my Hope lies.
No comments:
Post a Comment