January 11, 2022

January 11, 2022

It’s so adorable that I was so hopeful in this post. Oh, you sweet summer child. Reading back on these as I post them here is so interesting. For example, now, having been through it, I don’t remember having hope at all, ever, during this. But this post is kind of hopeful. I mean, look at how I sign off, thinking that every post from there on out is going to be a little better every day….! If I only knew, right?! On the other hand, I guess at times I did have to have hope, even if I don’t remember that now, because at the time I needed it to be able to go on…..?

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we’re all ok
And not to worry because worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these

 

We got here this morning at the perfect time; they were just starting rounds. Tim had a good, peaceful night, so that’s good. They’ve been able to wean him off a few things, including the breathing tube — they now have a high-flow thing for his nose, but it’s not nearly as disconcerting as the breathing tube. They took him off a few more things while I was on the phone with the North Florida Regional Medical Center Stroke Institute, trying to explain to them why I was calling on Tim’s behalf, that no, he couldn’t come to the phone, and no, he most likely wasn’t going to be able to make the appointment they had for him on the 18th, and no, I wouldn’t like to reschedule because yes, I have no idea when we’re getting out of Shands. And yes, we did take him to a different hospital for his second event. Sorry/not sorry. (Boy howdy am I more and more glad every day that I let the paramedic talk me out of North Florida and into Shands, like he wanted. Always listen to your paramedics!)

The doctor did say that they sent the heart valve off for testing, the one they took out, and it is growing cultures, so it definitely was infected and that made them even more glad they got it out. The new heart valve works better, and isn’t infected – and in fact, already, the blood they’ve been testing from Tim is looking a lot LESS infected, so the Vancomycin he’s on is doing a fantastic job.

Ultimately he was on the Vanc for about… eight weeks? And it did do the job. However, at this point, there was still some bacteria still in his blood and this did cause at least two more strokes… yes, even after the heart surgery. But because they had fixed the mitral valve and it wasn’t opening at the wrong time any more, the clots went to other places in his body, hitting a couple of other organs and doing damage to them – his right kidney (I KNOW, THE HUMOR, IT BURNS) and his duodenum (that first little part of the small intestine).

I will not be made useless
I won’t be idled with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear

My hands are small, I know,
But they’re not yours they are my own
But they’re not yours they are my own
And I am never broken

 

Once again playing the “hey don’t forget where you parked” game. One day, I forgot to take a picture… I thought I’d parked on the first level, but by the time we got to the third level, walking, I told Linda to just stand there with our stuff and I’d go on up and find our car and pick her up on our way out. Hahahaha, good times. Sigh. Parking lots, amiright?!

Linda and I (and our friends and family) are all feeling so, so much better, so much more positive and safe since the heart surgery is done with, and Tim can now officially be called on the road to recovery. Sure, yes, nothing in life is guaranteed, but it was the faulty mitral valve that was the open gateway for the bits and pieces of the vegetation to get into his brain, and with that door closed and working now, there shouldn’t be any new strokes. Knock on wood, light a candle, say a prayer, sacrifice a goat, whatever. I’m down for all of the good juju.

Poverty stole your golden shoes
But it didn’t steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn’t ever after

 

In other news… Tulip would not come inside even though it was about 35 degrees last night, so I put a towel in one of the boxes and I hope she realizes it’ll be a warm sleep spot. Newt sleeps with me every night now, and it’s the only time she’s not crying and yelling. I bought Tim the book, “My Stroke of Insight” and Linda has been devouring it, and the TedTalk of the woman who wrote it (Dr. Jill Bolte Talyor); we think Tim is very much going to appreciate that book when he’s up and able to read again. Oh! And I have my chauffer hat now, hahaha, thank you, Santa! I’m all ready to Drive Mr. Timsy.

Here’s to every post I get to write, now, moving forward, being better news every day. Maybe tiny news, baby steps, small victories…. but small isn’t nothing. And you know I’ll continue to update with something every day – you are all a part of our story as well, and we love you.

We will fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what’s right
Cause where there’s a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

My hands are small, I know,
But they’re not yours they are my own
But they’re not yours they are my own
And I am never broken

 

As I said above, reading back on these is so interesting. When I think back on them now, they’re all like… old gray photographs, under six inches of glass. No real emotion, no real sense of touch. Like it all happened a hundred million years ago. When really, it was… well, this was January 11th, so, just nine months ago. Seven months now since he died. So really… not that long ago. It’s just that so much has happened since then, so much has changed… life comes at you fast.

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters

I will get down on my knees and I will pray

lyrics by Jewel Kilcher
Hands

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