Did Truvy Know?

This situation is hard on all the people involved (especially Diane, of course) but our family dogs are not immune to this stress. 

I'll categorize our dogs the same way Dave Barry once did: We have a "large main dog," Truvy, a Cattle Dog-Border Collie mix, and a "small, emergency backup dog," Odie, a Bolognese. 

They are both "our dogs," but if you analyze their behavior, there are definite signs that Odie is Diane's dog and Truvy is my dog. Even though they have both seen times in the past

when Diane is out of town for a few days, I can see some nervousness in them that tells me they know something is up here. 

After "the setback" was already well underway, I happened to remember something a little odd about Truvy. Truvy loves her Mom, no doubt about it. Diane was the one who found Truvy at ReTails, the homeless pet emporium at Washingon Square Mall. She saw in Truvy the kind of friend I could adopt after I'd gone through the grieving process after my beloved terrier-mix, Amos, had died on Christmas Eve, 2010. 

Truvy and I clicked immediately. And once we had her home, Truvy would pace and cry when I left the house, but was generally content if Diane left to go somewhere and I was still home. To this day, if Diane is home and I work late, Truvy will wait often outside on the back porch until I get home, even in some rather nasty weather.  

I recently did some reading about seizure assistance dogs, who have an innate ability to detect if a person is about to have a seizure and warn the person or others about it.

In the last week or 10 days before Diane suffered the aneurysm, Truvy became noticeably more attached to Diane. She would jump up on the bed at bedtime and nuzzle Diane around the face and lick her ears, and Diane would laugh really hard. I admit that for just a moment, I was a bit jealous, but finally I felt glad that Truvy seemed to have finally "evened out" her affections for both of us. 

I now wonder if there was some kind of precursor warning that Truvy picked up on that Diane was about to have a problem. Two weeks ago it would have been absolutely insane for me to have said to Diane, "Gee, Truvy is just lavishing all sorts of affection on you, Dear. Maybe we should get you to ER for a head CT."

But if Truvy steps up her affections toward Diane in the future, it will not be ignored. 

Diane has still not awoken. Each passing day that she does not look into my eyes or squeeze my hand back when I squeeze hers is the new worst day of my life. But her room feels different this morning. The morning sun is shining in her East window. The gloom that has settled over central Indiana seemingly for weeks has broken at least for this morning. 

Diane had basically stopped responding to neurological tests in the last couple of days, but is responding somewhat better today. The last couple of days have been "no good news, no bad news." But she is not experiencing any infections, is breathing on her own. Dr. Helou, who is cautious about building hopes too high, but told me this morning that from the neck down, Diane is in very good shape. There are no signs she will not awaken soon, but we must remain patient while her brain recovers from this struggle. 

That's the trick, isn't it…

The Big Empty

I'd like everyone reading this to think very hard about how intertwined his or her life is with their spouse or significant other, especially if you've been together for several years.

If you had asked me if I realized this last week, I would have shrugged the question off.

"Sure. That's obvious!"

Our small house is full, quite cozy even for two people, and it's kind of a mess right now with all this going on. But it's completely stunning to me how incredibly empty it feels when I see Diane's half finished quilting project on the ironing board. Or the Christmas cards she started to address but didn't quite finish before "the setback" happened. There are also the newly bought bags of flour and sugar sitting on the counter top that were to go into Christmas cookies and treats. 

We were going to put up the Christmas tree this past weekend, but that obviously didn't happen. I'll have to somehow get that done myself, because if, as we all hope, she get's out of the hospital before Christmas, she will be well and truly pissed if she doesn't see a Christmas tree.

By way up an update, a new CT scan Monday PM showed considerable improvement in terms of reduced swelling and reduced amount of blood in the brain. We must still give her more time to wake up, though.

She seems very stable. And I'll take stable. For now. 

Nicks and dings

There seems to be kind of a silent brotherhood among hospital visitors. As I ride up in an elevator, sometimes, even if no words are exchanged, a look will pass between me and another passenger that says, "Yeah, this sucks…"

Diane's hands were swelling a bit (this is normal in situations like this) and it was decided her rings needed to be taken off. One of them had to be cut off. The other (her wedding ring) bears a nick from that cut. 

Now, the way I look at it *as a guy*, the nicks and dings and dents on things (such as my cameras and lenses) can serve as a testament to the work that has been done with them, or of goals met or problems surmounted. 

It will be up to Diane what happens, but I'd be in favor of leaving this nick in place as a monument to the crap we've survived together. But she may want to fix it as a way of putting all this away. I look forward to her decision. 

Diane, my "Marathon Woman"

I'd like to extend heartfelt thanks to all who have expressed their support and sent their prayers for my wife, Diane, as she does battle against the brain aneurysm she suffered last Thursday night.

I'm calling this "the setback." There is no reason at this time to think this is a catastrophe, a tragedy, or a disaster. It's just a setback, rather like a busted water heater or a clutch on a 2004 Hyundai Accent that's had the flyout bearing give out for the second time in a year.

This is going to be a difficult time, and it's a marathon, not a sprint. The way I would describe the current status is this: "The good news is there is no bad news. The bad news is there is no good news." We're kind of battling between the 49 yard lines here, and there's still not a good way to predict any outcomes. Until Diane is awake, we can't really know what damage, *IF ANY*, has been done to her neurological function. After she's awake, she will be delighted to know how many people have shown concern. 

Diane has not been fully awake since before the surgery last Friday afternoon. Right now, we don't really want her to be awake. She needs time for her brain to recover from this insult. 

That's the word the doctors use - insult. And let me tell you, brother, I'm feeling plenty insulted by all this, too.

I've been sending out 6-8 emails a day and responding to texts and phone calls, but I need to try to get this down to about one update per day. While this writing is actually therapeutic for me, I do still have to work in addition to monitoring Diane's condition, so I have to manage my time carefully in this difficult circumstance.

Also, I'm sorry, but I'm old.

I drink buttermilk, I still focus my cameras manually, and I don't do Facebook. I know Facebook is where most social updating is done these days, but that's not where I live.

I dislike Twitter less than I dislike Facebook because, while there is no less idiocy on Twitter, it does at least have the advantage of limiting that idiocy to 140 characters or less

Blogs were the new hotness a few years ago, and I did this blog for a while but drifted away over time. I've decided  to revive this long-dormant blog as a forum to brain-dump and keep all concerned posted on this situation. 

At this time, to monitor Diane's condition, please follow me on Twitter (@drummlines) and I will post short notes and links to or excerpts from new blog posts describing our journey through "the setback." If there is not a new post for a day or two, do not assume there had been a downturn. Like I said, time management is key right now. Also, if I've learned nothing else in the last three days, I've learned that progress will be *slow.* It is a real possibility that on any given day, there will simply be no new news to report.

Thanks again for all the notes and support. I look forward to the opportunity to thank all of you personally in the coming weeks and months.

-- 

Brian Drumm