Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Hello friends of Rae Russel,

Jack Gescheidt here. I’ve waited to send this update because I’ve wanted to deliver good news. My Mom has had about as successful a surgery (on Monday, 9.15) to remove her brain tumor as can be expected. Meaning what was most a golf ball sized Glioblastoma (Google or Wikipedia that if you dare) has been largely removed. She hasn’t had any excessive bleeding or other possible complications. This week a biopsy will be performed on the removed tissue, which helps determine options for future radiation and chemotherapy, if Rae opts for further treatment in the weeks and months ahead. Do know that with this type of tumor, removing much of it is NOT a clean bill of health; it’s a cancer that will kill her, we just don’t know when. But isn’t that the way life works for everyone?

The predictions of how long she has to live are low for this type of tumor, so I instead choose to focus on the fact that all numbers are predictions based on past similar conditions. They can be quite accurate, or not. I’ve also been in the ICU trenches before (and she is in post-op care at Redwood City Kaiser, not ICU), and enjoyed the unlikely experience of beating long-shot odds.

I’m also constantly aware—and so can you be—that my Mom is happy with her 83+ years, already longer than she ever imagined she’d have. And her recent years living in good health and spirits in Petaluma have been, she keeps reporting, her happiest in her life. To paraphrase one of her pre-surgery perspective remarks, “If I die on the table, it’s okay.” Typical gutsy, plain-talking Rae.

The frustrating place we’re at currently: she’s recovering from surgery, but more slowly than we’d like. She’s mostly appears to be sleeping, but then you can talk with her and she answers. We are told this is just how post-surgical recovery can be for some people, esp. now that the general anesthesia is out of her system. They keep giving her tests (CT scans and an MRI today) to check for brain bleeds and other such nasty possible stuff, and so far all’s clear.

I look forward to reporting by week’s end that she is improving more quickly: livelier and able to use her fancy pants “Jitterbug” cell phone (designed esp. for oldsters) from her bed again. (Take note she’s not a big fan of gabbing by phone, cell or otherwise before this hospital stay.)

At that happy time I’ll report on her condition in more detail, and with info about where she’ll be moved, which we hope is back to her pre-op rehab facility in Petaluma, just 2 miles from her house.

We all know how determined my Mom is. She went into surgery for her tumor saying something like, “I want some more time, not five years, but another year if I can get it.”

I believe that this strong desire is one critical determinant for her healing or not.

For now, I ask you to keep her in your thoughts, your consciousness, your prayers; to keep her connected to this Earth plane (as we call it sometimes here in Marin).

I fed her applesauce on Monday, after her surgery, in tearful wonder and appreciation for how life works, orchestrating a role reversal for two souls. She used to patiently, lovingly feed me like this over 45 years ago, now I can do it for her.

Thanks for listening in on this and sending Rae your love.

With some sadness, some impatience, and a lot of love for my Mom,

Jack