So here we are at the end of a long day. Jon is napping, giving me a moment to reflect.
He was moved from ICU to the regular side of the floor around 11, and he had a bit of soup at lunch and also again in the early evening. He's now is 7 North, in the same building. This side of the floor is busier, so there is more activity in the floor, and he also has fewer medical interruptions. The IVs and feeding tubes are going to be removed, we are just waiting for the medical staff to come and take off everything. It's great news, but a little scary to know he won't be directly attached to monitors. (Hypochondriac me--did I mention I had Jon take me to the ER because I had what turned out to be a clogged ear? I was convinced I was having a weird "woman's" heart attack.)
So the afternoon has consisted of mostly just being together, but I got him out of the bed, standing briefly, and into the room chair. He's minimally talkative, except in brief bursts. While watching an old Stallone movie, he read the production title out loud. So He's still got word recognition, speech, people recognition (bursts), long term memory recall (longer bursts). Now he's watching basketball--very uncharacteristic, because he's never really liked sports on TV other than the Olympics and occasional boxing.
Me: Do you like watching basketball?
Jon: Yeah it's great!
(Crowd cheers, Jon oooohs)
Me: what happened, did he miss?
Jon: No he got it in!
OK, maybe the new Jon Ho likes basketball. Good thing Laker tickets are relatively on the cheap these days.
On the more frustrating front, while Jon was getting all his room move checks with Alex and Roger, I was talking to the bank. Or rather, the multiple layers of banks that is a huge banking institution.
What was on the forefront of my mind was taking care of the giant construction bill for the earthquake retrofit we are in the middle of. You see we live in a Southern California "dingbat," a building with a "soft first floor," and we were in the middle of retrofitting to get it bolted and sturdy for the "big one." If you're not from California, this might not make sense to you, but believe me, it's necessary.
So of course the first voicemail I check on Thursday, still in the middle of the direct aftermath of Jons stroke, is s friendly voice reminding me that we've missed two payments and now owe $20,000. Seriously, why did I check that message? What could have been so important that I needed to answer right away? In hindsight, maybe I should have held off until Monday at the very least, but I was in a heightened state, during which apparently I just get bossier and busier. And busier. And buzzier.
Because my mind had been spinning worst case scenarios for 24 hours, it continued in that mode. Tenant calls that didn't get answered would end up with major damage. School appointments that were missed would end up ending the kids's college careers. And contractors that didn't get paid would leave me with a house propped up on wooden stilts, leaning over giant holes in the ground.
Fortunately, Jon had my name on two accounts, which after a series of calls, I was able to access, putting a temporary halt on the contractor crisis. All the other accounts that might exist require a power of attorney--something we didn't arrange in advance, and because Jon is a neuro patient, might not be possible now. Well, it is what it is. I'll have to figure something out.
Later in the day, my cousin Helen stopped by, and Jon perked up. Sociable, responding, interested--really, really trying hard to be alert. After a while he seemed to tire out, and thankfully she made me get out of the hospital to get Asian food in nearby Monterey Park. It was a relief to pour it all out over vegetable spring rolls and Singapore noodles. Everything. The whole week. And you thought you were getting all the details through this blog? It isn't even a fraction of what the whole picture is. I don't even have the whole picture. There are 39 years of life that I don't really know about, as it's all pre-Min. Other people have the keys to that--childhood friends like Jeff and Paul, family members, old neighbors, co-workers, maybe even ex-girlfriends. (Jon always claimed he didn't remember anything about his ex-girlfriends, and well, now it might actually be true.) Not to mention the hidden parts of a relationship that each of this boys have with their dad, both separately and together. I'm especially grateful to old and dear friends of Jon, who have let me call them to get on the phone at all hours, both to talk to Jon and to listen to me blather on. Who have sent photos to jog his memory. (And Jeff, today he recognized every single person in the photos! Even Zach! Who the heck is Zach?)
When we got back to the room, he was snoozing, but I woke him up to eat some tofu soup with vegetables. He claimed he didn't want it, but I said, "Oh, let's just see what it looks like, I'm curious about how this restaurant does their soup." I left a styrofoam cup with soup and a spoon in front of him, then Helen and I chattered away. (A consummate professional entertainer, Helen knows how to keep a room going, even if it's in a neuro ward in a hospital.) Being ignored, Jon absentmindedly started handling the cup, and eventually started eating. My guess is that something about eating requires multiple stimulation, that a verbal cue doesn't really do the trick.
Color, smell, texture, these all precede taste. So without sensory information, there is little desire to consume. (A "Hollywood Squares" hypothesis on my part, based on my observations. Believe at your own risk.)
After eating, I wanted him to wind down, as it was getting near "lights out" time at 10 p.m. So I asked "how about we shut off the TV, and listen to some music instead?" He was ok with that so I cued
Up an iPod and set it down in front of him. He immediately picked it up, and started swiping through the playlists, then eventually opening and closing apps. Scrolling, opening, something is going on, something is clicking, whirring, moving inside where I can't see what it is.
Is it that his hands are going through familiar motions with an object he's handled a thousand times? Is he looking for something? Does he realize it's not the phone he's had for the last 2 years, but very similar?
Whenever he is super-stimulated like this, or when he's more confused, I can't help thinking it must be so confusing for him, to be him right now. He keeps repeating back questions when he's tired or stressed. Should we call the kids now? I don't know, should we call the kids? You're looking good today Jon Ho. Am I?
Yes darling, you're looking good, you're doing great, and I love you forever.
Love,
Min
He was moved from ICU to the regular side of the floor around 11, and he had a bit of soup at lunch and also again in the early evening. He's now is 7 North, in the same building. This side of the floor is busier, so there is more activity in the floor, and he also has fewer medical interruptions. The IVs and feeding tubes are going to be removed, we are just waiting for the medical staff to come and take off everything. It's great news, but a little scary to know he won't be directly attached to monitors. (Hypochondriac me--did I mention I had Jon take me to the ER because I had what turned out to be a clogged ear? I was convinced I was having a weird "woman's" heart attack.)
So the afternoon has consisted of mostly just being together, but I got him out of the bed, standing briefly, and into the room chair. He's minimally talkative, except in brief bursts. While watching an old Stallone movie, he read the production title out loud. So He's still got word recognition, speech, people recognition (bursts), long term memory recall (longer bursts). Now he's watching basketball--very uncharacteristic, because he's never really liked sports on TV other than the Olympics and occasional boxing.
Me: Do you like watching basketball?
Jon: Yeah it's great!
(Crowd cheers, Jon oooohs)
Me: what happened, did he miss?
Jon: No he got it in!
OK, maybe the new Jon Ho likes basketball. Good thing Laker tickets are relatively on the cheap these days.
On the more frustrating front, while Jon was getting all his room move checks with Alex and Roger, I was talking to the bank. Or rather, the multiple layers of banks that is a huge banking institution.
What was on the forefront of my mind was taking care of the giant construction bill for the earthquake retrofit we are in the middle of. You see we live in a Southern California "dingbat," a building with a "soft first floor," and we were in the middle of retrofitting to get it bolted and sturdy for the "big one." If you're not from California, this might not make sense to you, but believe me, it's necessary.
So of course the first voicemail I check on Thursday, still in the middle of the direct aftermath of Jons stroke, is s friendly voice reminding me that we've missed two payments and now owe $20,000. Seriously, why did I check that message? What could have been so important that I needed to answer right away? In hindsight, maybe I should have held off until Monday at the very least, but I was in a heightened state, during which apparently I just get bossier and busier. And busier. And buzzier.
Because my mind had been spinning worst case scenarios for 24 hours, it continued in that mode. Tenant calls that didn't get answered would end up with major damage. School appointments that were missed would end up ending the kids's college careers. And contractors that didn't get paid would leave me with a house propped up on wooden stilts, leaning over giant holes in the ground.
Fortunately, Jon had my name on two accounts, which after a series of calls, I was able to access, putting a temporary halt on the contractor crisis. All the other accounts that might exist require a power of attorney--something we didn't arrange in advance, and because Jon is a neuro patient, might not be possible now. Well, it is what it is. I'll have to figure something out.
Later in the day, my cousin Helen stopped by, and Jon perked up. Sociable, responding, interested--really, really trying hard to be alert. After a while he seemed to tire out, and thankfully she made me get out of the hospital to get Asian food in nearby Monterey Park. It was a relief to pour it all out over vegetable spring rolls and Singapore noodles. Everything. The whole week. And you thought you were getting all the details through this blog? It isn't even a fraction of what the whole picture is. I don't even have the whole picture. There are 39 years of life that I don't really know about, as it's all pre-Min. Other people have the keys to that--childhood friends like Jeff and Paul, family members, old neighbors, co-workers, maybe even ex-girlfriends. (Jon always claimed he didn't remember anything about his ex-girlfriends, and well, now it might actually be true.) Not to mention the hidden parts of a relationship that each of this boys have with their dad, both separately and together. I'm especially grateful to old and dear friends of Jon, who have let me call them to get on the phone at all hours, both to talk to Jon and to listen to me blather on. Who have sent photos to jog his memory. (And Jeff, today he recognized every single person in the photos! Even Zach! Who the heck is Zach?)
When we got back to the room, he was snoozing, but I woke him up to eat some tofu soup with vegetables. He claimed he didn't want it, but I said, "Oh, let's just see what it looks like, I'm curious about how this restaurant does their soup." I left a styrofoam cup with soup and a spoon in front of him, then Helen and I chattered away. (A consummate professional entertainer, Helen knows how to keep a room going, even if it's in a neuro ward in a hospital.) Being ignored, Jon absentmindedly started handling the cup, and eventually started eating. My guess is that something about eating requires multiple stimulation, that a verbal cue doesn't really do the trick.
Color, smell, texture, these all precede taste. So without sensory information, there is little desire to consume. (A "Hollywood Squares" hypothesis on my part, based on my observations. Believe at your own risk.)
After eating, I wanted him to wind down, as it was getting near "lights out" time at 10 p.m. So I asked "how about we shut off the TV, and listen to some music instead?" He was ok with that so I cued
Up an iPod and set it down in front of him. He immediately picked it up, and started swiping through the playlists, then eventually opening and closing apps. Scrolling, opening, something is going on, something is clicking, whirring, moving inside where I can't see what it is.
Is it that his hands are going through familiar motions with an object he's handled a thousand times? Is he looking for something? Does he realize it's not the phone he's had for the last 2 years, but very similar?
Whenever he is super-stimulated like this, or when he's more confused, I can't help thinking it must be so confusing for him, to be him right now. He keeps repeating back questions when he's tired or stressed. Should we call the kids now? I don't know, should we call the kids? You're looking good today Jon Ho. Am I?
Yes darling, you're looking good, you're doing great, and I love you forever.
Love,
Min
Thanks so much for the updates, Minne. You're such a great storyteller and the humor gives some levity to the serious situation. It does sound like Jon is improving every day. I think the human body and mind can be amazingly resilient. Keeping all of you in my thoughts and prayers. Love, Mary D
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