An unexpected procedure

Meg has continued to feel tired and unwell, with her head aching, and the incision from her March 22nd surgery has never fully healed. The incision has been draining on and off: the medical staff have looked at it on a couple of (weekly) visits but have never been that worried.

The drainage increased last Friday (don't all medical changes happen on a Friday afternoon?) and Meg spent the whole weekend holding kleenex to her wound, filling multiple waste baskets. We went to the doctor's office on Monday for a checkup and they decided it was time to do something about it.

The plan was to promote healing by roughening up the edges of the wound and sewing them together. This was something more than an office procedure, but something less than full-fledged surgery in the operating room with an anesthesiologist, so it took the staff a while to find and outfit an appropriate room. Despite the local anesthetic, the procedure was very painful. The surgeon was very pleased with the outcome and saw no actual signs of infection in the weeping wound: always a worry.

Meg is spending the night in the hospital where, because of the concern about infection, she is in isolation and is confined to her room. Unfortunately (or fortunately), because she's been a patient there several times, we were fully experienced in getting her comfortable and fed, despite all the bureaucratic hiccoughs of a large organization! The hope is that she will come home today, that the wound specialist will sign off on her wound on Thursday and that she will be able to restart her chemotherapy soon (and that the upcoming MRI shows nothing alarming).

UPDATE: Tuesday AM: she's now resting quietly at home.

A radio show (on Shakespeare's birthday) reminded me that, if there's one thing that we're doing here, it is not "killing the spirit of love with perpetual dullness".

SHAKESPEARE SONNET 56

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Else call it winter, which being full of care
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.

Still slowly healing

Sister Caryn (holding a picture of young Andrew), Meg and brother Gary

We had a pleasant and talkative weekend with Meg's siblings: Caryn for 3 days, Gary for one overnight. Gentle strolls, movies, meals, spirited arguments (Meg sat out on those).

Meg continues to hurt and rest, but is slowly getting a bit more lively and is (maybe) using fewer pain pills. The physician's assistant was happy with the healing of Meg's wound, and will check it again next Monday, prior to giving the go-ahead to restart chemotherapy.

Meg has enjoyed visits from a couple of friends:
Danielle and daughters bought over comfort food (South African Milk Tart), Sally stopped by this evening for a long chat about the adventures of our respective children and left us with several healthy treats from her company.

Meg's looking forward to a gift  tomorrow from a new store that's bound to serve something compatible with her still very painful jaw muscles: Yogurtland!

Progress continues slow

Meg's neuro-oncologist wants to put her back on the chemotherapy she was on previously but was concerned, at our visit last Friday, that her wound might be infected. She's been put on antibiotics, and her surgeon and assistant, at our visit today (Tuesday) were happy with her healing, and didn't see any signs of infection. She'll finish the antibiotics and return next Monday for a ruling as to when to restart the chemotherapy. Meg's sister is visiting this weekend: should make the time till the next medical appointment speed by!

Meg has been in considerable pain, and has found both eating and sleeping to be difficult: the surgeon noted that both problems were expected after a second brain operation, chemotherapy and radiation, and that Meg's progress was typical. In the last few days Meg's managing to rest more during the day than she did previously, and last night she managed to sleep the whole night without having to get up for pain pills, something she had not previously managed. We knew that recovery would be harder this time, but we hadn't realized quite how hard. She continues to be stoic and determined, as you would expect of her!

One very minor triumph: I was wracking my brains for a suitable dinnertime treat for Meg - something thin enough and soft enough for her to be able to eat without a struggle. I realized that English "After Eight Mints" would be ideal, and recalled seeing them in stores in Seattle in recent memory. I scoured all the stores I could think of and found none. Salvation: an English colleague about to return from a trip home asked me what I needed from the UK, and Meg is now the proud owner of two boxes of eminently edible English treats. Thank you, Janet!

Recovering slowly

Gentle weekend stroll

Meg's recovery from her second surgery has been significantly slower and more painful than it was for the first surgery. She's been having more difficulty eating and sleeping, because of the increased pain. Dr. Jost, at our visit today, noted that this was pretty typical, was not concerned, and expected that Meg would continue to improve over the next month. At the end of the visit the (industrial strength) staples were removed from the incision in Meg's scalp. Next medical visit is on Friday, to see the neuro-oncologist: we expect he will put her back on the chemotherapy pills, which she tolerated very well previously.

eclectic care package from college buddy 

Meg continues quietly resting at home, enjoying occasional visits, and is still busily working at not getting too busy!  She's inventively finding ways to deal with the pain of eating, and with the very limited opening of her mouth: the kids' baby spoon has been brought into play. She's exercising gently and discovering, by trial and error, how much is good for her. She's not up to blowing into musical instruments yet, and is experimenting with other instruments around the house: the harp seemed too awkward, but the guitar may work out OK. She expects to stay home for ~ 6 weeks of leave, and then will experiment with returning to the lab.