Day 5

For lack of emotional longevity and clarity of details, I am going to start this blog from today: Day 5. While I don't feel the motivation or strength to re-write days 1-4 today, the story would make no sense without a recap. So here's the horrible, awful and life changing beginning. On Saturday night, March 2, 2013, my parents went to bed around 10:30. The day was spent in sweat pants, watching TV, snowmobiling on the farm and generally enjoying each other's company. Nothing pointed to the stress in my Dad's brain, the vessel that would ultimately give, or the blood that would spread through his brain stem and ventricles, shattering our here and now and filling us with dread that we have never previously experienced. Ultimately, he awoke my Mom stating this headache was different from any other and they needed to get the hospital immediately. For my Dad, this is big. On the way to the hospital he vomited and eventually lost consciousness. She called 911 and alerted them they would be arriving and begged for someone to meet them at the door.

Upon arriving to Madison Memorial Hospital my Dad was conscious enough to assist himself to the gurney. As they wheeled him to the back, my mom waited for news: the hospital report stated he was unable to protect his airway, was not breathing sufficiently and was ultimately intubated and in a coma. Transport to Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center was needed, and quickly.

The rest is a shuffle of tears, unexplainable fear, family members, hugs, doctors, art lines, foley catheters, brain pressure monitors, temperature probes, ventilators and heavy sedation medications. The neurologist, Dr. Cash met the family with sobering news. This is a very fatal stroke, hemorrhagic, bleeding on his brain, 40% mortality rate, may never wake up, could have severe deficits, medications needed for the clot, risks, benefits.... devastation.

Day 1-5 is a blur of hope and prayer. My dad has battled and failed, battled and won. The bleeding on his brain has been largely resolved due to the TPA medication that has been directly deposited in his brain. His CT scan yesterday revealed that most of the blood has drained from the ventricles although the damage that has taken place from the initial bleed is still unknown. He is attempting to breath with the ventilator, and has reactive pupils. He is unable to maintain his own temperature, is not waking when the sedation medication is turned off and is having tremors that are thought to be benign to his overall prognosis but are heartbreaking to watch as a family. 

Day 5 is shaping up to be largely the same as days 1-4. Upon arrival to the hospital this morning it was noted that more blood was present in his brain drain (although the scan yesterday revealed most of the bleeding was resolved). After a quick CT scan and a visit from his neurologist, it was revealed that there may be more blood present than we thought yesterday (although the radiologist read the scan as "unchanged"). His tremors are less intense than yesterday. He remains on Propofol and Ativan for sedation and Nicardipine for blood pressure. He is breathing with the ventilator a little, but is unresponsive to verbal or physical cues at this point.

We are hopeful. The neurologist and the rest of the team remind us daily that this takes time. My big, strong, healthy Dad has suffered a debilitating hemorrhagic stroke and healing and answers will only come with time. For a controlling person like myself, this is the most difficult part. We want to fix this, I wish someone would look at us huddling in the corner of this room and say, "He is going to wake up". But today, that's not going to happen. Tomorrow, it's not looking good either. But the good news is: this man is a fighter. He is stubborn, strong and has so much to live for. We are hoping this is just a stroke of bad luck.