After Dad's Heart Attack

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

VIP

The room next door to where Dad has been for the past two months is a VIP room - the nicest in the hospital we have been told. We have all been coveting it for as long as we have been on this floor. It is large, has hardwood floors, and its own sitting room. When Dad was moved back to CCU this past weekend we began plotting (along with all of the staff) to have him returned to THAT room... Well, the timing worked out beautifully! Today when he was moved, the patient who was in it last night was gone. SO IT IS HIS NOW! Woo-hoo!

Dad says this is more space than he needs - but he is not involved in the daily game of musical chairs and who has seen my purse that the rest of us have all been playing. We LOVE it! It has a table, several chairs, a TV with a VCR, a microwave, and a refridgerator. Mom was speculating on bringing in a coffee maker..........and maybe her sewing machine too. 8-) The BEST thing about this room is there is more than one picture on the wall and they are not hideous - like the one in his old room! Yippee!!

Things are looking good today. Dad had the hiccups when I was there tonight - ugh! Hopefully they won't go on for days like they did before. But he seemed much stonger and more engaged than he has been for the past few days and weeks. Dr. Ocolo put in the new J tube, as Sarah reported. He feels good about it - and when I asked, Dad seemed much more positive about it too. I asked if he was still leaking around it - and he said "A very little bit." Maybe this means he will actually have a chance to heal around it - while in the process of learning how to eat again. Dad was asking tonight about what Katie and I were planning to make for dinner. We went through our list of options with him (we eneded up with Steak Fajitas) and told him we would report tomorrow what our decision was. We asked if it bothered him to hear us talk about food and he said no. I think he likes daydreaming about it a bit. I take this as a good sign! He is on his TPN nutrition right now - but is supposed to be getting food into his tube again - we heard maybe tonight, but we think the order came to late - so probably tomorrow.

We always knew Dad is a VIP - and now we know the staff at the hospital thinks so too. What is really funny is I think just about ALL of his regular people went to see him in the CCU while he was there the past few days. Maybe I am imagining it - but I think this has had a great affect on his spirits. He seem much more like his old self today. Whew!

New tube procedure

Dr. Okolo was back at work yesterday. He came to see Dad late in the day and after assessing the situation decided that the best course of action was to take out the problematic J-tube and replace it with a new one, and while he was in there, he would cut off blood supply to the ulcer that was causing all the diarrhea, either by injecting a medication into it or cauterizing it. He didn't see any reason to put off this procedure (by this time Dad's blood pressure was completely normal, along with all of his other vitals) so he got a team together and started it around 8:00 last night. He said that under normal circumstances it would take between 15 and 30 minutes to do this, but he had great respect for Dad's anatomy and estimated it would take more like 45 minutes.

Thirty minutes later, he was done. Because he was more familiar with Dad's inner workings, he said he was able to place the new tube in a better position and he found a "nice sized" ulcer just south of the tube, which he injected with whatever medication you use in these situations. He was also going to order high dosages of medications to stop acid production in Dad's stomach which would both completely eliminate the ulcer he has and prevent a recurrence. He said that in 11% of patients, diarrhea is a side effect of this drug, but he hopes that Dad will be in the 89% with no side effects. I kind of laughed at that--if there's one thing we've learned in the past three months, it's that if there is a complication to be had, Dad will have it! But we'll see, and frankly, even if he does have diarrhea, at least it won't be bloody diarrhea and that'll be an improvement! Dr. Okolo also thinks that what will ultimately cure Dad from all these GI problems is getting rid of the tube entirely and going back to regular eating (sound familiar? I think we've managed to convince everyone in the hosptial by now that this needs to be our goal). Dad had his best session yet with the swallowing therapist yesterday, so we're headed in the right direction, but it'll still be a while until he's ready for the tube to be out.

Dad will be started back on tube feeding this morning (may already have been) and assuming all goes well and there are no complications, he should be out of CCU within a day. Everyone on the hall from technicians up to the cardiologist is pulling to have him put in the "VIP" room, one room down from where he had been before. This is like a suite, with hardwood floors and a nice sitting area. Right now it's occupied by an actual VIP (someone connected with the hospital) but Dr. Hiatt says that person should be out by tonight, so the timing would be good. There's no real reason Dad should get this, but they all like him there and want something good to happen to him!

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Not-So-Good Friday

Dad was having a great day on Friday from all accounts--he was even up in his chair for a full three hours! Mom said he had been breathing somewhat shallowly, though, and just after he got back into bed, he vomited copiously. The danger with vomiting, of course, is the risk of aspirating some of the vomit and it appears that he did so yesterday. His oxygen levels were quite bad yesterday afternoon and evening--they had him on an oxygen mask and were giving him some bronchiodilator treatments to help that. He continued to vomit (with some blood in the vomit) and have really bad diarrhea, but the initial chest x-ray they did came back clear (although the nurses told us that it could be deceiving since it had been done so soon after he vomited)

This morning, things were looking a bit better early on--they had gotten the vomiting under control, at least, and his oxygen levels were better. But then his blood pressure plummeted, down to 80-something over 40-something. They decided at that point to move him to CCU because they wanted to give him some medications that might affect his heart and they wanted to be able to monitor him better. In the meantime, some bloodwork they did showed that his blood protein levels were elevated, indicating that he might be digesting his own blood (is that possible? I hope I'm reporting this correctly.). His cardiologist says that he may well have a stomach ulcer, quite common in long-term hospital patients. So now they are giving him blood to help that, along with fluids and other medications to help his blood pressure.

Needless to say, we're all worried sick. This may just be a minor setback but has the potential to be quite dangerous as well, especially with the risk of really bad pneumonia from aspirating vomit. The timing couldn't be worse, either--just yesterday he had been cleared for rehab and accepted by a local facility (assuming a bed was available, that is) after a week of amazingly good progress. Why does this keep happening?

Editing to add: First, if you haven't, you should read Amy's comment to this post for a mid-afternoon update. I'm editing this at 10:30 tonight to report that they did an abdominal x-ray that seemed to show that his J-tube has gotten twisted around somehow and is pointing the wrong way--pumping stuff up into his stomach instead of down into his intestine. This is an unoffical report from the resident this evening and not from a GI doctor, so I'm not sure how accurate it is. But it would certainly explain much of what's happening. No word on what they can/should do to fix the problem, but I know Mom is unwilling to do much of anything with that damn tube without Dr. Okolo around and without considering all of the options and not just the most common option.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Big News!

SO much has happened in the past week. Like Sarah said, Dad's legs are getting stronger and stronger, as was evidenced today when HE WALKED!!!! Dad said that the physical therapist, Julia, normally comes in around 11, so I made sure to be there this morning (Spring break started yesterday for me). She has been getting him up on a walker the past several days--just holding himself up and getting used to standing. The first few times he held onto him, but he's been supporting most, if not all, his own weight. So today he stood up, and with Julia holding his elbow, and dragging his chair behind him (with her foot, no less!), Dad took several steps-about five feet across the room. Then...he did it again!! I was only there for the second time, which I think is best, because Julia said that the first time he was a bit nervous, and an audience would only have made it worse. Mom was able to make it in time, too. It was such a rush to see him standing and moving. Tomorrow, Julia wants to disconnect all his lines (the TPN, saline, etc.) and take him out into the hallway, so he has more room to move--fewer walls to run into. :) She estimates that he should be able to go about 20 feet!! She said he might even surprise her and be able to go further. I'm going to be SURE to be there for this. We checked with the nurses today to make sure that he can be disconnected, and they said that as long as it's not for too long, he'll be fine. His blood pressure and heart rate have been responding appropriately, Julia said, so we seem to have the balance right. I don't know if it was said before, but he's getting everything through his G tube, with the exception, we think, of the Vancomycin (anti-biotic). The nutritionist (Nick) was supposed to come in today and file the order to have his TPN recycled (which isn't as gross as it sounds--it just means that they're going to switch it from going in over 24 hours to going in over 12 hours). That's pretty much the last hurdle that we have to face before getting him into rehab. It seems like now it's just going to be a matter of getting a bed.

The speech/swallowing therapist has been coming in regularly. His neck is getting stronger, and she has taught him a bunch of exercises to do. He's even been allowed ice chips and spoonfuls of water, which he has been swallowing like a pro!! Honestly, he has come SO far this last week or two. I would have NEVER thought a week ago that he woud be here now.

Tomorrow I'm going to bring in a deck of cards and Mom's going to bring his cribbage board. I gave him a new one for Christmas a few years ago (since the Angerer branch always complained about his old one), and learned the basics of cribbage. It's HARD!! But Amy and I are both working on learning, and he seems fairly enthused about being able to play.

I hesitate to say it, because I don't want to jinx us, but I think we're on a good path here!

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

Dad took a ride in a wheelchair today--down the hall, down the elevator, through the lobby and down to the display of historic dolls in the children's waiting room. Mom said he seemed to enjoy it, but was really tired when he got back to bed! The nurses have all commented on how he seems to be getting stronger--he's moving his legs better (not so noodle-like, one technician said) and he's up to 147 pounds as of today! He's getting a bit of food through the stomach tube, most through TPN, and he'll be getting lipids in his TPN line every other day starting tomorrow.

So now his staph infection is clear, he's successfully getting his metoprolo through his stomach tube, and the only thing keeping him out of rehab is the lack of a bed in any of the facilities! Cross your fingers, toes, and eyes and pray hard that a bed becomes available soon at one of these places (and that no other complications develop in the meanwhile) so that Dad can finally leave the hospital!

Which one of you was it who sent the great card with the picture of all the nurses throwing things and saying ""ake a hike! Get out of here! Beat it!"? The nurses were feeling that way two months ago--imagine how they feel now!

Friday, March 18, 2005

Something to smile about

Hey all!

This will be short, but I wanted to keep you all in the loop on what WE (the non-medical professionals) have been doing to help Dad along. After two months of staring at the same walls and hearing the same beeps and hummms and looking out the window at the gray March weather Dad is beginning to head into the gloomy emotional state that the rest of us would have hit six weeks ago! This, I am sure you all know, is NOT something we want to have happen.

So, along with the more aggressive treatments that he is going to get from the hospital staff, we are all starting a more aggressive campaign to cheer up Dad. This is not as simple as you may think... What do you do to perk up a guy who wants nothing more than to be home in his garden, taking walks, and living the quiet, dignified life he has built for himself? Instead he is stuck indoors, being poked and proded by strangers. This is where we need your help. ANY suggestions? We sent him flowers today - which he really seemed to like. We are planning to cover up the ugly painting in his room today or tomorrow with something more interesting. We are also bringing back in the cd player he had before - so he can try listening to music and NPR again.

He doesn't seem to WANT to do anything (which I don't blame him for...) but I think that maybe he SHOULD do something. If you have any ideas of what might peak his interest, please let us know and we will give it a shot.

Sigh. This week has been a rough one - but I hope it is also a turning point. Of course, only time will tell. As always, keep up the prayers!

Amy

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Moving forward!

Yay! About five minutes before I was set to call Paula again, Mom called me and said Paula had come to speak with her to let her know that they are working on swallowing therapy and would have someone in by tomorrow for this! Hmm, I wonder why she didn't want to talk to me directly?

Also today (in addition to the promised physical therapy and time in the chair), Dad got a clear reading on the staph culture. So that's one step closer to rehab. Unfortunately, he didn't get his Metoprolo through his stomach tube last night--it was taking too long to get from the pharmacy (the pharmacist is digging in his heels about grinding it himself, I understand) and his blood pressure was beginning to head south, so they quickly gave it to him through his IV. So we still have that problem to solve.

Wouldn't it be funny if we set all of this up and then Dad ended up in rehab by Monday? I'd be laughing. And aren't you glad this entry is only ten sentences long?

Conversation with the Rehab Program Manager

Sorry I didn't get around to posting this last night.

I spoke with Paula Leonard yesterday afternoon at 2:30. She is Suzanne McClure's supervisor, and, as it turns out, also manages the physical therapists. Several minutes into the conversation, I found out she isn't actually trained in any of these fields herself (I started the conversation thinking I was talking to another SLP), which, in retrospect, kind of bothers me--if she doesn't have any expertise in these fields, how is she to know if the people she is supervising are giving good advice? I'm in a similar situation at work myself--I'm not a musician or an educator, but I manage a music education program. But I do have outside consultants observing all the artists, providing ongoing professional development, and training them in new programs so that I can get that expert opinion that I lack. I wonder if there is an equivalent at Sinai?

In any event, Paula said that yesterday's meeting had been characterized to her differently than what it turned out to be. She said Irene told her that the meeting was family driven and was to talk about Dad's ongoing treatment (which it was, but I was pressing for it because Suzanne had said it was necessary) and that in light of that and in light of my accusations to Suzanne the day before (where I said she wasn't doing her job and threatened to sue if that's what it took to get action presumably, but I didn't press Paula for what exactly she meant by my accusations), Paula's supervisor determined that the presence of the rehab people wasn't necessary. In fact, no one from rehab was supposed to be there--not speech and not physical therapy. She said that her physical therapist was "devastated" to have been drawn into this meeting with no warning whatsoever. I said that Julia didn't seem at all devastated to me--she was extremely helpful throughout the meeting. If there was no warning, that was probably because Irene called Paula to request their attendance, and Paula probably never passed the word down to Julia. I was flabbergasted at all of this--Suzanne very clearly told me she thought the whole care team needed to meet and also told me of her availability every day after 10 a.m. I offered to send Paula my notes from my conversation with Suzanne, but she declined.

Paula went on to say that Suzanne had told her that swallowing therapy wouldn't do any good without better bodily strength. I told her that I think Suzanne is right in that, but no therapy and three months of muscular atrophy is making things worse and swallowing therapy is part of the whole picture--Dad can't get off the GI tube if he can't swallow, but the GI tube is the source of many of the GI motility problems. I told her that his nutrition is improving (referring to Dr. Okolo's report at the meeting), that PT has agreed to increase services, that the nurses will be getting Dad in a chair twice a day for up to two hours at a time, and that Dr. Morad had said Dad's prognosis is dismal without more aggressive therapy. Speech therapy would have known all of this if they had showed up for the meeting! It was really frustrating for me to have to repeat all of this information to Paula that we discussed in the meeting. I kept getting back to my main point--we need to think of aggressive therapy from the inpatient rehab team as part of Dad's acute care, not as something that can be put off until he is in a rehab facility. Paula suggested that we get the whole team together again for another meeting. Grrrrrr. I mean, I don't want to say no to that, but dammit, that's what we DID already and they didn't show up! It isn't going to be easy to get them all together again!

Paula and I went on to discuss various swallowing therapy options--I mentioned VitalStim and various traditional approaches I've read about. She said she thought VitalStim was available on an outpatient basis only, but I pointed out that if it is a portable therapy (as it seems to be from the descriptions I've read) there doesn't seem to be any reason why it can't be ported to his hospital bed if it'll help him. We didn't get very far in this part of the conversation since neither of us really knows anything about swallowing therapies, and yet again I lamented the lack of participation from Suzanne at the meeting that day since we really needed to hear from a professional. I did reiterate that my understanding is that therapies for swallowing *are* available and that Dr. Morad had said that if something exists that can help, it should be given and that "not my job" is no excuse. When Paula said that Suzanne said that swallowing therapy wouldn't help, I asked her to clarify--did she mean that swallowing therapy would never help (that is, that Dad would never regain his ability to swallow) or only that it wouldn't help right now without better nutrition and physical therapy? She said the latter. I told her what Suzanne had said to me the day before, that Dad was stronger two months ago and agreed that had he gotten swallowing therapy then, he wouldn't be in the hospital now.

I think a lot of our conversation surprised her--I don't think she understood all of Dad's GI problems and how bad his prognosis is without the therapies we're requesting and I know she didn't know that Suzanne had requested a team meeting. At the end of our conversation, Paula said she would do some research, was sorry for the misperceptions on both sides regarding this meeting, and she would get back to me either that afternoon or the next day. It's now the next day and I haven't heard back. But then, it's early and she may well not be at work yet, so I'll give her until this afternoon to call me.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Today's events

So Mom, Katie, Dad (dozing on and off), Amy and I all showed up (not that Dad had much choice; I'm sure he would have rather phoned in to this meeting) promptly at 11 a.m. for our meeting with Dad's care team. Around 11:15, the others started to straggle in. Dr. Hiatt was in the middle of a difficult procedure and unfortunately wasn't able to make it, although she was less important a participant than others since she did her job quite nicely and continues to. The real shocker, though, was that the speech therapist didn't show up, evn though she was the one who said yesterday she wanted to meet with us all and could be available any day after 10 a.m.! Irene told us that the SLP was told by her supervisor's supervisor that she didn't have to attend. So right off the bat, things weren't good. In attendance were Irene Boateng, the social worker, Dr. Morad, the attending physician, Julia Greninger from Physical Therapy, Emily Schlein, the skin care nurse, Nicholas Trinkle, the nutritionist, and joining us at the end of the meeting was Dr. Okolo, the gastroenterologist.

First we went through our primary concerns:
  • not healing around the GI tube; in spite of reassurances that this will happen, we don't think it'll happen any time soon, if at all
  • GI motility problems--prior to his tube surgery, he had no problems digesting and was receiving adequate nutrition to allow him to heal; he has only weakened so significantly since the tube was put in
  • ongoing complications--by this I mean all the other things that have hit him (c. dif, bedsores, staph infection, missed medications, etc.) While I realize that most of these are not surprising, they continue to be one of the main reasons Dad isn't in rehab. We've been told since January that he'll be in rehab in a week or two. This hasn't happened, but his care has continued as if this will happen. We need to assume at this point that the complications are the norm and plan accordingly. Obviously our main goal is to get him OUT of the hospital, but at the same time, we can't continue to let him weaken and put off helpful and necessary therapies on the assumption that he'll be out of the hospital soon. This approach has led to two months of decreasing strength, muscular atrophy, and depression.
  • Physical therapy and speech therapy--he is supposed to get daily physical therapy by Dr. Morad's request, and instead he gets it about one time per week; speech therapy refuses to give swallowing therapy, even while admitting that it's what he needs along with physical therapy and adequate nutrition

Each of the professionals chimed in when they had information. Dr. Morad responded to the GI issues when she could. She said that she hadn't known until we spoke yesterday about Dad's lack of GI problems in ICU because it is not at all unusual to have motility problems after surgery and while on pain medications. She thinks that the tube itself is not the only cause of the problem since most people handle a feeding tube with no problems at all; in Dad's case, his previous GI problems contribute both to motility issues and to his problems with the tube itself; she suggested that perhaps there is some scar tissue in the area that might be preventing the site from healing. Regarding the ongoing complications, she first got a bit defensive when she thought that I was suggesting she should plan for these things since we don't know what will hit and when. We explained that we completely understand that these things happen in the hospital, and that their response to each situation was entirely adequate (not counting the missed medications that shouldn't ever happen), but our point is that these are keeping him from getting into rehab and without rehab services, he's going to continue to weaken and just get worse and worse. She said that he really needs to get out of the hospital and that at this point what she needs to see is a clear culture for the staph and he needs to get his Metoprolo through his J tube. But she also agreed that with his history, we need to assume that something else will happen to prevent his transfer to rehab so we need to be thinking of what else they can do to improve his situation. She said one thing that may well help is more movement--by getting him moving, getting him upright, his GI motility may well improve. Swallowing therapy will also help--one problem she foresees is if his GI tube is removed at some point and he continues to have motility problems, leading to vomiting, he'll be unable to use his throat muscles to even throw up properly (or swallow the vomit, ewwww), leading to aspiration and extremely dangerous pneumonia. We talked about VitalStim therapy; she knew of it vaguely but didn't know the hospital was a provider. She said she knows it requires a physician's orders and if a therapist recommended this treatment, she'd have no problem ordering it. At the same time, though, even conventional therapies could also be helpful. We lamented the lack of someone from speech therapy at this meeting who could have been helpful in letting us know what was available and what they had the capacity to handle.

Julia, the PT, participated in this conversation. She's new to the hospital as of the end of February and so only knows this case through the charts. She says she understands that more PT is important but they don't have the staff to handle daily PT. She did agree to increase services and says she thinks they can manage five times per week. She checked with Dad about an 8 a.m. therapy time, to which he was amenable. At the same time, she recommended getting Dad in a chair more often. Currently he is sitting for about an hour and a half a day. She recommended twice a day for up to two hours at a time. Irene said the nursing staff would see to this. She also said she would be in a lunchtime meeting with Suzanne and would talk to her about getting swallowing therapy.

The skin care nurse and nutritionist reported on their treatments. Emily, the skin care nurse, said Dad's bedsore is a stage 4 wound. It was recently debrided, but that he needs better nutrition and more movement, more time out of bed for it to heal. There is a realistic danger of the wound progressing to where it affects the bone, which is why she requested the surgical debridement and the change of bed last week. We talked about the bed (Dad indicated a while back that a firmer bed would be better for doing his exercises) but agreed that the current bed seems to be best overall. Nicholas, the nutritionist, said that Dad is currently receiving PPN but will go back to TPN when the infection has cleared. Between this and tube feedings (when they can be restarted) they think they can get enough nutrition in him to see some progress in his weight loss and overall strength. As of yesterday, Dad was down to 140 pounds.

When Dr. Okolo arrived, we asked him if he knew if there was scar tissue that might be affecting the healing around the tube; he said it was a good question and a possibility, but that the stomach acid itself would debride any scar tissue that was there so it wouldn't have to be done surgically. We asked about Dad getting Metoprolo through his tube; he said we could start that immediately and that he would order it from the pharmacist already crushed or made into an elixir (to ensure it was well diluted to avoid having it clog the tube). We asked if he had considered moving the tube to a new site. He said he had indeed considered that but thought the result wouldn't be much better, and possibly worse. He wanted to give the site another two to three weeks to heal before considering a new surgery in a new site. We asked about giving Dad some small amount of nutrition through his tube to keep his digestion going; he said he would order that by the weekend, but in the meantime, Dad was receiving drugs to help the disgestive system not shut down. He also reported that Dad's albumen level was finally showing improvment, for the first time since he had been in the hospital, which indicates that the last two weeks of treatment (new tube, TPN, lipids, etc.) were working.

Emily and Daniel had emailed me specific questions to ask. Most of them were covered in the meeting, but the ones I read from their email were: what is the prognosis, given the hospital's current approach of no swallow and minimal physical therapy? Dr. Morad said that if that approach continues, Dad won't make it out of the hospital. He needs more aggressive therapy while here, and he needs to get into rehab ASAP. We discussed other rehab facilities and told Irene that ANY rehab facility willing to take Dad would be fine with us at this point--we don't have to wait for a particular place to have a bed. She said that right now Levindale is full and has a long waiting list. We asked about other options, if the hospital couldn't provide more aggressive therapy (i.e. hiring outside PT and ST). Suzanne yesterday had told me this would be fine, but Dr. Morad said that she wasn't certain, but she thought anyone who actually provided medical services at the hospital would need to have privileges there. We asked if there was a central authority over this case; who has the right to make decisions and write orders regarding treatment; do other members of the medical staff have authority to reject/override/ignore those orders, and if there are standard procedures to notify the patient and his family of such orders. Dr. Morad said she is the one to direct questions to, although the specialists should be the ones to answer questions under their specialty, with Dr. Morad as a backup if we are having problems understanding or getting through to the specialists. She takes recommendations for treatments from therapists and trusts their judgement, so there shouldn't be an instance of someone ignoring or rejecting orders since she only orders what other's recommend.

At the end of the meeting, I also asked about Dad's mental health and wondered if a psychological evaluation might be necessary. Dad is showing every sign of depressing, understandably so. Dr. Morad said this was a legitimate concern, but that antidepressants would make him sleepier (and thus less likely to want to participate in therapy) and constipated, which we really don't want! She also thinks that much of the depression might go away with a change of scenery.

In the end, what we agreed was that Dr. Morad would continue current treatment under the best case scenario, assuming Dad would be cleared for rehab within a few days, but at the same time would immediately start more aggressive PT (including the nurses getting Dad into a chair twice a day) and the PT would talk to ST about swallowing therapy. Metoprolo through the J tube would start tonight, and feeding through the tube at a small amount by the end of the week. PPN will continue, with TPN as soon as the infection has cleared. Irene will look into other rehab facilities who can take Dad, and I will take on calling first Paula Leonard and then work up from there to find out what I can about why the SLP didn't come to the meeting (or was told not to come) and press our case for swallowing therapy.

And now I have to go feed my family and take them to Literature Night at school, so I'll update on my conversation with Paula Leonard later. I'm going to put that conversation report in a new entry. Call me paranoid, but at this point I don't want to be editing posts about these meetings and conversations because I want a clean record of what I wrote when in case we need to refer to it later!

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Browbeating

I started calling the hospital at 7:45 this morning. The only phone number I had was for the floor Dad is on, so I called there hoping to get someone who could either tell me Suzanne's last name (the SLP) or a number where she could be reached. At 7:45, the nurse didn't know her last name or number but promised to leave a message for her. At 9:00 I got Dad's day nurse who found out Suzanne's last name, so I was able to get a phone number from the main hospital line. His daytime nurse also left a message for her. Then I left a message at the inpatient ST office, then called the pager number given on the message from the office. That at least got me a call back from another SLP, who also said she would pass my message along to Suzanne (McClure, in case you ever need to call her!).

Finally, just after noon, Suzanne called me back. My first question (after clarifying that she was the main SLP who had been seeing Dad since his trache was put in) was if there was any compelling reason why Dad should not be getting swallowing therapy. She told me the same thing she has told others--Sinai is an acute care facility, not a rehab facility. I said that's the reason why she won't do the therapy, which wasn't what I was asking. I wanted to know if there was any medical reason why he shouldn't be getting this therapy, which I assume he would get if he were in a rehab facility with no questions asked. She said that it's not just swallowing therapy that he needs--he needs to regain his strength through better nutrition and physical therapy. She said she's been very frustrated with the situation and has watched Dad lose his strength in the two months since he got out of CICU. She agreed that if Dad had received the proper swallowing therapy two months ago when he was stronger, he would have long since been out of the hospital. Then she went on to say that she isn't supposed to provide therapy, she's only supposed to assess new patients and determine their therapy needs. I asked why, if that's the case, she has been seeing Dad for two months--he's hardly a new patient. She said it's because he keeps needing to be reassessed. I gather from this that she sees him, but doesn't actually do any therapy. I didn't point out what was obvious to me--if they had been doing the correct therapy, they wouldn't need to keep reassessing him! She said that their department is very understaffed, that she has 20 patients and their families who are just as frustrated as I am, and she can't give everyone the therapy they need. I told her I didn't care what her problems were, the only thing I cared about was that my father needed treatment that she wouldn't provide. She said that she's tried to get the doctors to agree to better therapy, but they wouldn't, and since she's only the ST, she can't get the nutritionist and physical therapists to do what they need to to get Dad better. She thinks it would be best if we could all meet to talk about what needs to be done. We tried to get this sort of meeting together six weeks ago, but the people who should be involved couldn't coordinate their schedules. She said she could meet any day after 10 a.m.

I asked her about the swallow test Dad passed; she said that test was just for thin liquids and that he had been taken off of these not because of swallowing problems but because of his digestion problems and that it was someone else who put in the NPO order (for nothing by mouth). I asked why, if that was the case, he wasn't allowed liquids even during the times when his digestion has settled. She said that wasn't her call, but the doctors'. I kept coming back to why he couldn't get the swallowing therapy now, since the GI tube is the cause of so many of his problems and the only hope, in my mind, is to get the tube out which we can't do until he's able to eat. She said I need to talk with her supervisor, Paula Leonard (she seemed unsure if Paula is her supervisor; she said there is a lot of transition in the department now) and would give Paula my number. She also said that if we wanted to hire a home health agency therapist to come in and provide this therapy to Dad, that would be fine (which makes me wonder if she is being entirely truthful that swallowing therapy wouldn't work without better bodily strength).

After my conversation with Suzanne, I started in on Dr. Morad, Dad's internist who has overseen his care since he got out of CICU. Mom warned me that she wasn't the best at returning calls, so I did the same thing I did for getting Suzanne--left one message, called an hour later and left another message telling her I was planning to call every hour so she may as well return my call. While waiting for a return call from her, I called Irene, the social worker/case manager and asked her to set up a meeting by the end of the week with Dr. Morad, Dr. Hiatt, Dr. Okolo, the speech therapist, physical therapist, and nutritionist. She said she'd get on it immediately. Dr. Morad then called back a half hour after I left my second message for her (as we keep telling Mom, you don't have to be particularly articulate and you don't have to be especially nice, you just have to be persistent and loud).

Dr. Morad and I spoke for about 20 minutes. She seemed genuinely frustrated and worried about Dad's situation, about how close we've been in the past to getting him into rehab and how various complications, mostly GI problems, keep getting in the way of his recovery. In the course of our conversation it came out that she didn't know that Dad's GI problems started with the tube surgery--that in CICU he had no problems at all with GI motility (which most of us call digestion) when he was being fed through a tube in his nose. She thought that his weakness and GI problems resulted from his heart surgery. I encouraged her to go back and look at his chart from when he was in CICU and told her that this is why we are being so adamant about getting him swallowing therapy and why I think we really need to work towards getting rid of the stomach tube. She also didn't know that swallowing therapy was an option--if she had known, she said she would have ordered it. She only knew of swallowing tests. She said that Suzanne's "not my job" line was no excuse--if there is therapy available that can help a patient, it needs to be given. I told her Suzanne said she had requested better therapy. Dr. Morad said that that was certainly untrue in her case, although Suzanne may have spoken with other doctors. We talked about Dad's complications; she thinks that at this point he will probably never be back to the strength and abilities he had prior to his heart attack. I said that we need to assume that complications are the norm with him and plan accordingly--certainly work towards getting him stable and healthy enough to go into rehab, but also do whatever rehab work we can right now because nothing is going to get better by ignoring it and waiting. She said she had been requesting physical therapy daily, and that she agrees that he needs this therapy to strengthen his muscles, get him moving, and hopefully improve his digestion in the process. I told her that the physical therapists almost never come by (Mom said they visit about once a week). She said she would make herself available at any time for a meeting of the whole care team.

About 10 minutes after we hung up, she called back to tell me that Irene had contacted her about a meeting and it looked like it would be tomorrow at 11 a.m. since Dr. Hiatt will be going out of town on Thursday. The only problem is that Dr. Okolo is in surgery all day. Irene then called me with the same information, but said that Dr. Okolo said he would stop by at his lunch break to meet with whoever is there. I'd rather not wait until everyone is free at the same time (although I told Irene I'd be perfectly happy to come in at 6 a.m. or have the meeting at midnight if that's what it took) so that's what we're going to do--two doctors, three therapists, a social worker, Amy, me, maybe Katie if she can get away, Mom, and Dad all in Dad's tiny room at 11 a.m. tomorrow.

So there it is for today. I was willing to then start in on the physical therapists, but Mom told me to just wait until the meeting tomorrow. Too bad--I was feeling kinda feisty by then.

Monday, March 14, 2005

More complications

By Wednesday of last week, there was little change in Dad's health--his J tube continued to leak, although less dramatically than before, and he was still having problems with vomiting and endless hiccuping. He continued to get nutrition both through his stomach tube and his PPN line, including a special type of nutrition that added extra fat to his diet to help him gain weight (who would have thought that someone who went into the hosptial with a heart attack would be getting extra fat by doctor's orders?). There was some hope on the horizon, though, when we were told that Levindale (a rehab facility closely tied to Sinai) could take Dad with the leaking, and the hospital was willing to move him immediately.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen--first Levindale didn't have any beds available, then they told us that they couldn't take him with his Metroprolo still being given by IV. The staff doctors at Sinai seemed to think it would be fine to give him his Metoprolo via his J tube, although Dr. Okolo (the GI specialist who did the most recent surgery) said before the surgery that he doesn't recommend giving crushed medications through the J tube since the tubes are so tiny they tend to get blocked easily.

All of this became moot today when they discovered that Dad had a staph infection, courtesy of his IV line. So the line is out (thus reducing his nutrition) and he's on antibiotics. The infectious disease specialist thinks they caught the infection early enough that it should be fairly easy to treat. The hospital and Levindale say that when he tests negative for the infection AND has successfully gotten his metoprolo through his J tube for several days, then he can move to rehab.

Here's what I think: this has gone on long enough. As far as I know, there is no compelling reason whatsoever for the SLP to not do the therapy Dad needs in order to get him swallowing. "It's rehab's job" is no answer. He will continue to have problems with his stomach tube until it is taken out. He will continue to be susceptible to dangerous infections as long as he is in the hospital and severely weakened as he is. All of his complications over the past two months have been related to the GI tube and lack of nutrition. If they had done the proper therapy back in January, he could have long since been in rehab. I'm sick of them risking his life because, essentially, they don't want to do something that he needs in order to recover. So tomorrow I'm starting a campaign to get him this therapy. Mom says she tries to keep everything on an even keel at the hospital since she has to deal with these people day in and day out. I say it's time to rock the boat, and I don't mind irritating people and yelling and calling board members and lawyers to get this one request granted.

Wish me luck.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

What Really Happened...

Hey all!

I subscribe to Knowledge News (this nifty daily email with articles on totaly random subjects). Today the topic was what goes on in a bypass operation - written by a doctor in layman terms. I found it VERY interesting - because I never really thought about the details of what really happens in the OR. I have posted it here (I really hope this doesn't count as copyright violations or anything.) I will warn you that it is kind of graphic - and upsetting if you think about DAD in this position. Sarah couldn't get through it. Katie and I both read it and cringed - but in some ways I like KNOWING what was going on.

If you haven't all already cleaned up your own health acts - this may help. None of us EVER want to go through this.

Amy

Heart Surgery 101: The Ins and Outs


The patient lies in the middle of the cardiac surgical suite, flat on his back under bright lights, painted with an ochre iodine solution from neck to knees, then draped in multiple layers of sterile plastic and cotton. A vertical screen separates his head and neck from the site of the surgical action.

Behind this screen, the anesthesiologist does his magic, infusing a cocktail of oblivion-inducing drugs into the patient's veins, inserting a tube down the patient's windpipe, and ventilating him with a mixture of gases that keep consciousness mercifully at bay.

On the patient's left side, the pump team sets up shop, with a technician seated behind a low, rectangular stainless steel machine the size of a large desk. He's all about plumbing, preparing the tubes that will carry blood from the patient's stilled heart to the machine, through a cylinder where the dark purple blood picks up oxygen and turns cherry red and then flows back to the patient's body. Raised over the end of the table is a mammoth tray of tools--surgical hardware.

Getting into the Chest

The surgeon and scrub nurse wait on the patient's right, the surgical assistant on the left. With one vertical slice down the middle of the chest and a buzz of the saw down the center of the breastbone, or sternum, the patient's chest wall is breached.

The surgeon wedges a nifty little tool into the sternal split, and proceeds to crank open the chest. (At the end of the surgery, he will use something that looks like a meat hook to wind up the wire sutures that pull the edges of the bone back together--and write a prescription for enough narcotics for several weeks.) As the bone comes apart, a shiny pink pillow puffs up from below. This is the lung, protected in a slippery, clear envelope called the pleura, which lines the inside of the chest wall and the outside of each lung, letting the lung slide friction-free as it expands and contracts.

With the bony gap widened to six or seven inches, the surgeon removes the spreader and gently pushes aside the right and left lungs, covering them in wet, protective cloths. He is now in the middle compartment of the chest, the mediastinum. There, in a protective, transparent envelope called the pericardium, is the heart--a purplish, muscular little fist of an organ in its healthy state, pumping away with a powerful twisting contraction. Of course, since we're doing heart surgery for a reason, it might be a pale, flabby bag, draped in yellow fat, contracting with a weak squeeze.

Getting the Job Done

Getting in is the standard part. What happens next depends on what the patient needs. Sometimes it's a new valve inside the heart, or maybe two. Sometimes it's bypassing diseased coronary arteries on the surface of the heart with an artery brought down from the chest wall and attached beyond the blockage, or with a piece of a vein from the leg attached at one end to the aorta and at the other end beyond the blockage. Either way, the stitch work is so tiny that the surgeon wears glasses with little microscopes on the lenses.

Sometimes a bypass can be done without stopping the heart, and the surgeon sews in rhythm with the beat. But most times, the surgeon has to replumb the body, sending unoxygenated blood from the right side of the heart out to the mechanical pump and depending on the pump technician to run the machine and send the blood back to the aorta. Then the surgeon stops the heart with a mixture of drugs, letting it lie peacefully in the chest while repairs get done.

Getting Out

Going on the pump and coming off the pump can be white-knuckle times. Sometimes there is trouble restarting the heart. Sometimes the patient has to go back on the pump. But if all goes well, backing out is largely the reverse of getting in, with many checks in place.

All the tools and all the gauze sponges used for mopping up must be back where they belong (it's surprisingly easy to lose things in a blood-soaked operating field). The inside of the chest has to be dry (no leaking of blood from anywhere). Even then, tubes are left in the chest to let oozing fluids drain to the outside. These come out several days later, with a hard yank and a stitch or two to close the hole. The surgeon's work, he hopes, is done. It's nature's time to go to work and smooth over the cuts and stitches.

Elizabeth Reid, MD
March 10, 2005

Monday, March 07, 2005

Same road, different day

Dad had his surgery on Thursday as planned, and it seemed to go well. But on Thursday night, the tube came out, he was vomiting, and he went into atrial fibrillation. As Dad said Friday, it was like E.R. in his room, with all the people rushing in and out! Dr. Okolo flew back from New Jersey, where he'd gone to give a talk, just to take care of Dad. The doctor figured someone had made a stupid mistake. But it turned out that the balloon in Dad's stomach was defective (how much bad luck can one person have?). They got it fixed and got Dad's heart rate back under control, and by the time I saw him on Friday he was in good spirits and sounded so much stronger than he had a month ago.

Unfortunately, the tube is still leaking, though not as badly as before. So we're not terribly sure what the next step will be. Dad is getting IV nutrition (nasty looking yellow stuff) but really needs to be able to get food into his stomach, and lots of it, if he's ever going to heal. Dr. Okolo should be in today, so we'll see what he says.

On Friday St. Joseph's finally came up with a bed, but since we're happy with Dr. Okolo and have been happy in general with Sinai except for the GI doctors we had before (and the clueless staff on the sixth floor), Mom and Dad declined it.

At one point we thought Dad would be getting home by Easter, and now it's looking like we'll be lucky if he's in rehab by Easter. Dad's hospital stay reaches the three month mark tomorrow, and the complications and screw-ups have been unbelievable. The swallow therapist has flat-out refused to give him another swallow test, but Dad's medical staff is wanting to put pressure on her either to do the test or to do the therapy he needs to pass the test -- to delay because "that's rehab's job" is just plain bad medicine. So maybe something will change this week. Let's hope!

Thursday, March 03, 2005

New GI doctor

As of Wednesday afternoon, St. Joe's still didn't have a bed available for Dad, so in the meantime Dad, Mom, and Dad's doctor raised enough Cain that Sinai brought in a doctor from another GI group. When they called him, Mom was told that the doctor had an office full of patients, but that he would try to stop by after office hours. Given the pace of anything that takes place at a hospital, and especially the wait that is usually involved for a doctor, I was very surprised when the new doctor, Dr. Okolo, stopped by the hospital after 7 p.m. (by then I had given up and thought we'd have to wait until today).

Dr. Okolo immediately impressed us with his manner and charm (and accent, I'll admit. Very British in voice and dress, down to the natty little bowtie) and impressed us even more with his take-charge attitude. He spent a half hour or more looking through Dad's chart before coming in the room, so he knew all of what he had been through in the past couple of months. We were thinking that the next step would be to take out the GI tube entirely, let the site heal, and give Dad a TPN line (Total Parenteral Nutrition; an IV line is surgically inserted into a large vein and all nutrition and meds are given through this line) until rehab can do their magic in getting Dad back on real food. But Dr. Okolo thought otherwise. He said the problem seems to be (in his words) mostly a north-south problem--the GI tube is too small for the stoma site, which isn't healing properly (he thinks largely because Dad isn't getting enough protein to allow healing to take place). He suggested going back to the GI assembly that Dad had before--a G tube into the stomach and a J tube into the intestine. He said a larger G tube (currently Dad has a type 20 French tube; Dr. Okolo suggested a 24 French tube. Whatever.) would take up some of the excess real estate (again, his words) so Dad wouldn't have the leaking like he does, and with food able to go directly into the intestine, none of that would leak out, so he'd be getting the nutrition he needs to help him heal. He said some leaking would be expected until the site heals entirely, but a larger tube and more protein should allow this to happen in a fairly short amount of time. He thinks a TPN line should be a last resort and that allowing as natural a process of receiving nutrition as possible is always best for a person. He said if we were agreeable to try this (we were), he would have to twist a few arms but should be able to do the procedure (with sedation but not general anesthesia) at noon tomorrow, which would be pretty much as I'm writing this if it is indeed happening.

Oh, Mom had talked to someone yesterday who said she had seen a case like Dad's once before on a person who had had a lot of abdominal surgery. All the surgeries weakened the membranes in the area so they pulled away from the stoma, causing all this leaking. We suspect something of the sort with Dad since he's had quite a bit of work in the area as well. The previous case *did* get a TPN line and just put up with a bit of malnutrition until he was able to eat again. When we suggested this as a cause of Dad's problem to Dr. Okolo, he was noncommittal.

With any luck, by now Dad has this new GI tube assembly in place and is doing fine. I haven't heard from Mom since early today and at that point she didn't know anything. I had hoped to post this last night or early this morning to ask for prayers for this procedure, but I know they are still needed now!

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Nothing is ever easy!

I found this email from Mom when I logged on to update the blog. She said it all better than I could:

We are still waiting to move Dick.

I was hoping Sarah would have updated the blog late today, but she hasn't yet. I got to the hospital today to find a message to call the GI doctor we have been seeing (one of a group--we never know who will turn up). He had a plan to surgically implant another J tube for feeding, after removing the G tube that is so problematic, and after feeding him IV (with a tube inserted into his neck). He said he had talked to Dr. Morad and she thought we might like that idea. I was annoyed she hadn't called me before I had to call Dr. Fleisher (the GI). I told him I would call Dr. Morad, and while I was waiting to hear from her, I went out to the nurses' station to find out when the swallow test was scheduled. The PA told me she had cancelled that because he had already had 3 unsuccessful tests! (Only one complete one--a barium swallow which he passed). I asked who had scheduled it in the first place and she didn't know!!! So she looked it up and told me it was the rehab department. Our good friend, Dr. Hiatt, arrived on the scene and checked other records and saw that Dr. Fleisher had indicated he wanted another swallow test. I was very annoyed at the PA for countermanding orders. Meanwhile Dr. Morad called, and I told her I definitely wanted to proceed with the move, so she called St. Joseph's and found out they didn't assign beds in the monitored area until they had taken care of their own emergency patients and the ones coming from their cath labs. They would have a meeting at four to decide. When I hadn't heard by six, I called Dr. Morad's service and she called back. She hadn't heard yet from St. Joseph's, so she called them and they still didn't know about a bed. I told her Dick didn't need that much monitoring any more if he got his beta blocker on time, so she said she would call them and tell them he could go into the medical area where they have a v-link (???) which is less intense monitoring. She told me to go home and get some sleep--that we would probably have to wait until tomorrow. Poor Dick! They stopped his tube feeding because it was leaking so badly and he is getting only glucose and saline by IV. Dick said, "Maybe I should have let Dr. Fleishman work on me."

We have been hassling with this feeding tube business for at least a month [the original GI tube surgery was on January 16] and he isn't any better than he was to begin with. He has overcome all his infections and his heart is stable, so if we could just solve this problem he could go to rehab. I hope moving to St. Joseph's (if and when it happens) will get some fresh insights into the problem.

I do appreciate all your prayers!

Mary