Mom's had a downturn

What an awful week.

Mom had her heart valve replaced and had one bypass last Thursday. The surgeon reported that she did well coming out of surgery and 24 hours later her recovery looked pretty normal.

Since Saturday, though, things have gone poorly. Her blood pressure remained too low (although today it looks pretty stable.) Her oxygen was too low (okay today). Her blood sugar keeps jumping around. Sometimes it's fine, sometimes she needs insulin.

And after monitoring her urine output and her kidney function, they decided to put Mom on dialysis today. Also of concern: she hasn't had a bowel movement since her surgery and they're worried about obstruction. Her lungs also need help.

My friend and critique partner Susan Davis wrote "I'm praying for you. I remember how awful it feels when you realize the loved one may not get better." Her father died almost two years ago, so she knows. She knows.

I know she's not at death's door. I know there is a good chance she'll make a full recovery. I don't dare say "excellent" any more.

But ... yesterday was the first time it hit me. Mom could die.

I knew there was a slight risk of death from the procedure. But failure to do the procedure meant almost certain death, and Mom's quality of life was decreasing on a daily basis. I absolutely felt surgery was the right thing to do.

But as her systems shut down and they take appropriate steps to bring them back to full functioning, I face the possibility: This could be it.

I'll never want to lose my mother. Many people my age (mid-fifties) have already lost a parent, and I know I'm blessed to have her with me. But barring the Lord's return, that day will come.

But, oh, not this year. Not now. It's too soon. I can't bear to lose my daughter and my mother in the same year.

Missing Jaran/surgery update

After two rescheduled dates, Mom is having her heart valve replacement surgery this morning. Yay! She is fairly at peace, and prepared. A feat I doubted would happen only four hours ago.

My own angiogram revealed surprising and terrific news. My arteries are clear! Hallelujah! My hand and wrist (the site of the incision) are bruised, painful--and infected. I am taking antibiotics. My surgery has been rescheduled for October 29th. This has the advantage of allowing me to focus on Mom for 4 weeks after her surgery, and also allows me to fulfill a couple of speaking engagements. Phew. I only pray that the first snow fall waits until after I've undergone surgery.

Jaran and Jolene are never far from my thoughts. I miss Jaran terribly. I suspect I would, even if Jolene were still alive. He is a steady, dependable rock. And he is exactly where he needs to be, taking care of his wife and family in Oklahoma.

I told Mom that as hard as his decision to move to Oklahoma was for me, I couldn't help but admire him. At the time, he still expected Jolene to mature into a "normal" adult and be able to help me as I got older; he wanted to be in Oklahoma to do the same thing for his father. I respect his desire to honor his father.

But oh, I miss him, now more than ever.

Mom Needs Surgery

"What are the risks of the surgery?" I tried to ask an intelligent question after the doctor casually said Mom needed to have her aorta replaced.

"Heart attack and stroke."

Mom blanched. But I persevered with the next question.

"What are the risks of not having the surgery?"

"An even greater risk of heart attack and stroke, as well as congestive heart failure."

"And the longer she waits ..." I let the statement dangle.

"The weaker she will get." Without his stating it directly, he implied she could reach a point where surgery would no longer be an option.

So easy to make the decision, once we had all the facts.

She goes back on August 29th. The surgery will be shortly after the ACFW conference in Minneapolis.

Mom is terrified. I am more hopeful. After surgery, I hope she will regain some of the energy she has lost in recent months; that she will feel better than she has in a long time. Still, it's a scary prospect.

Those of you who know my sweet Mom also know how anxious she gets about the littlest things. She is battling a desire to finish everything she ever wanted to do--in the next six weeks--in case this is the end. Pray for a balance between frantic activity and being immobilized by anxiety. Pray for me, too, that I will have the extra level of sensitivity and patience that I so often lack.

Thanks for staying with me--with us--through this difficult year.