Thank you so much to everyone who has been praying for my mom. To recount, briefly, for those who do not know, here’s what’s happened.
Last April mom noticed a small bump under her eye. It was tiny, like a little sty, but it bothered her to feel a bump and not know what it was. She saw a doctor, who thought it was nothing.
Mom felt the bump was growing, so when she was home this summer, she saw several specialists here in the United States. They scanned and probed, but couldn’t determine what it was, so they decided it was nothing.
I felt it when she was here this summer, and it felt like a hard cyst about the size of my thumb nail on the bone right under her eye. It was strange, but it caused her no pain.
When mom returned to Germany, she felt the bump was still growing. It worried us both. After all, bumps aren’t supposed to grow. Mom also started having episodes of vertigo, which oddly seemed to alarm me more than her. She was probably putting an act though. She returned to her German doctor who at least confirmed it was growing, and he referred her to a specialist.
They decided the bump should come out before it was so large it affected her optic nerve.
The surgery was Wednesday night our time. It was only supposed to be a few hours. When they got into the operation, however, they found the growth was much larger than they’d expected. The tumor was the size of the surgeon’s thumb.
Instead of the neat non-invasive and little scarring surgery they expected, mom’s surgery lasted seven hours. They had to take apart most of the eye socket of the skull to be sure they got it all. Bone was taken from behind her ear and used with screws and titanium plates to reconstruct the eye socket.
The first day out of surgery mom seemed to be doing well. When I spoke with her she was herself and seemed comfortable and calm.
I called again in the morning German time and was concerned that her speech was very slurred. She told me she’d been throwing up and that they’d just put something in her IV that was making her groggy. I accepted that explanation, being somewhat a veteran of those IVs that make you nice and sleepy and oblivious.
As it turns out minutes after our call the nurses noticed the same thing and the drugs shouldn’t have been causing it. The doctor came to examine her eye and it was hard. By now mom was throwing up uncontrollably.
The doctor ripped out the stitches at the bedside with nothing for pain, and then mom was whisked away back to the operating room. They said it all happened in a matter of about 15 minutes. Mom said she was very scared because it was so clear from the frantic behavior of the staff that something was very wrong.
It turns out she had a blood clot behind her eye.
Now the wound is draining and she simply has a cup over her eye. She says her sinuses have filled with blood that keeps coming out of her nose. But, when I talked to her at dinner time German time she was clear and alert and quite happily eating dinner.
Another surgery is planned for Sunday, assuming things are better drained, to put some stitches back in.
The pathology report should be back in 10 days.
I can’t help but be anxious about what it might show. I am concerned because this growth, whatever it was, seemed to grow so rapidly.
I suppose I’m somewhat more anxious because it’s a kind of role reversal. I’m the one who spends time in hospitals and at doctor’s offices and whose life revolves around test results that at any time could be life altering.
Mom has sworn up and down she doesn’t want me to come. Her nurses tell me she’s fine and not to worry and get on a plane. Still, perhaps I understand better than most what it’s like to wait on those test results and what it could be like to get a bad diagnosis. I have also spent enough time in hospitals over the years to know that having someone around to hear what the doctor is saying who isn’t drugged up, and having someone around to advocate for you when things get hectic, really can make a big difference in care.
At this point, I suppose, there really isn’t much I could do except hover at the bedside with my Purell endlessly wiping down every surface of the hospital room. (After getting a hospital borne skin infection that I’m still fighting two years later, I’ve joined the ranks of the germaphobes.) We’ll see what the next few days and test results bring.
Last April mom noticed a small bump under her eye. It was tiny, like a little sty, but it bothered her to feel a bump and not know what it was. She saw a doctor, who thought it was nothing.
Mom felt the bump was growing, so when she was home this summer, she saw several specialists here in the United States. They scanned and probed, but couldn’t determine what it was, so they decided it was nothing.
I felt it when she was here this summer, and it felt like a hard cyst about the size of my thumb nail on the bone right under her eye. It was strange, but it caused her no pain.
When mom returned to Germany, she felt the bump was still growing. It worried us both. After all, bumps aren’t supposed to grow. Mom also started having episodes of vertigo, which oddly seemed to alarm me more than her. She was probably putting an act though. She returned to her German doctor who at least confirmed it was growing, and he referred her to a specialist.
They decided the bump should come out before it was so large it affected her optic nerve.
The surgery was Wednesday night our time. It was only supposed to be a few hours. When they got into the operation, however, they found the growth was much larger than they’d expected. The tumor was the size of the surgeon’s thumb.
Instead of the neat non-invasive and little scarring surgery they expected, mom’s surgery lasted seven hours. They had to take apart most of the eye socket of the skull to be sure they got it all. Bone was taken from behind her ear and used with screws and titanium plates to reconstruct the eye socket.
The first day out of surgery mom seemed to be doing well. When I spoke with her she was herself and seemed comfortable and calm.
I called again in the morning German time and was concerned that her speech was very slurred. She told me she’d been throwing up and that they’d just put something in her IV that was making her groggy. I accepted that explanation, being somewhat a veteran of those IVs that make you nice and sleepy and oblivious.
As it turns out minutes after our call the nurses noticed the same thing and the drugs shouldn’t have been causing it. The doctor came to examine her eye and it was hard. By now mom was throwing up uncontrollably.
The doctor ripped out the stitches at the bedside with nothing for pain, and then mom was whisked away back to the operating room. They said it all happened in a matter of about 15 minutes. Mom said she was very scared because it was so clear from the frantic behavior of the staff that something was very wrong.
It turns out she had a blood clot behind her eye.
Now the wound is draining and she simply has a cup over her eye. She says her sinuses have filled with blood that keeps coming out of her nose. But, when I talked to her at dinner time German time she was clear and alert and quite happily eating dinner.
Another surgery is planned for Sunday, assuming things are better drained, to put some stitches back in.
The pathology report should be back in 10 days.
I can’t help but be anxious about what it might show. I am concerned because this growth, whatever it was, seemed to grow so rapidly.
I suppose I’m somewhat more anxious because it’s a kind of role reversal. I’m the one who spends time in hospitals and at doctor’s offices and whose life revolves around test results that at any time could be life altering.
Mom has sworn up and down she doesn’t want me to come. Her nurses tell me she’s fine and not to worry and get on a plane. Still, perhaps I understand better than most what it’s like to wait on those test results and what it could be like to get a bad diagnosis. I have also spent enough time in hospitals over the years to know that having someone around to hear what the doctor is saying who isn’t drugged up, and having someone around to advocate for you when things get hectic, really can make a big difference in care.
At this point, I suppose, there really isn’t much I could do except hover at the bedside with my Purell endlessly wiping down every surface of the hospital room. (After getting a hospital borne skin infection that I’m still fighting two years later, I’ve joined the ranks of the germaphobes.) We’ll see what the next few days and test results bring.
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Andrea