November 9, 2012 - It's All About The Smile

It's all about the smile.

We are all aware that no two days in our lives will be the same. It's impossible. Some days are okay. Some are bad. Some are fun. Some are blue. Some are outstanding. Some are emotional. And so on. Today was definitely a day filled with firsts. New parents experience those dailys with their babies. Children experience those days when they go to school. Patients experience days filled with firsts after they wake up from surgeries.

The medical team took dad off the "amnesia" drug yesterday. It has a half-life of 18 hours, which means some of the body's tissues rid themselves of the drug quicker than others, and it's not completely gone from all the tissues for quite a while. One description I've found for 'drug half life' is:
"The half life of a medication is the time it takes for half of the drug to be eliminated from the body. To make it easier to understand, the half-life of a drug is how long it takes for half of it to be eliminated from the bloodstream." With that description it will take a LONG time for dad to be totally off those drugs!

But ... Today was a good day. We didn't get to be with him for long, but we did have quality time. I got there first. 11:00 this morning. I didn't get to go back for a few minutes, but that was okay. There are some things they need to do that are better done in private. So, when I got to his room his nurse was suctioning his lungs again. That way the trach doesn't sound all gurgly when he breathes. She told him I was there and you could see his face light up from across the room. I saw a huge smile plastered across his face and my heart absolutely melted. My daddy is feeling better ... He's smiling!

I went over and stood beside his bed and held his hand. He looked at me and smiled again and tried his darnedest to say hi to me. I leaned over and kissed his cheek and he squeezed my hand. My heart nearly burst with joy! I asked him if he knew where he was. He said sort of. I told him he's in ICU at Blount Memorial Hospital and that he's been there for two weeks. The look on his face was a mixture of shock and disbelief. I told him he had been through a LOT and that I flew in over a week ago. Mom, Bill and Christy have been there much of the time, and that we have all been worried sick about him. Again, he smiled.

During the conversation I told daddy that we had seen his best friend and he had asked about him. I told him there are literally hundreds of people praying for him and asking about him daily. (If y'all could see how many texts I've been getting daily, you'd know what I mean!!) I told dad that his crossword puzzle buddy misses him and to let me know when he's ready to start working them again because we've been saving them for him. He smiled.

He looked tired, so I sat down so he could sleep. Mom came in and he slept the entire time she was there. She and I had planned on going to a Veteran's Day program at Shannondale, so we left for a while. I won't go into detail about the event, but I will say I cried. Very moving. Very emotional. I was totally surrounded by elders who fought in WWII and Vietnam and I couldn't even imagine what all they had gone through in their lives. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up with awe.

Mom and I went back this afternoon. Family friends were in the waiting room, so we went in to say hello and fill them in on dad's progress. We weren't allowed to go to dad's room yet because they were bathing him and getting rid of his 'grizzly adams' beard. (We finally remembered to bring his shaving kit!!!) We finally got to go see him at 5:00. He was all squeaky clean and ready for 'his girls' as dad's nurse, Ash, refers to us. Again, he smiled.

I spoke first with dad. I asked him if he was comfortable, he said yes. I asked him if he knew where he was, and he said yes. I kissed him and told him he looks awesome ... and he smiled. Then it was mom's turn. She talked to him for a bit and I went out to call Bill so I could fill him in and give mom and dad some privacy. When I came back in we all 'talked' for a bit and dad started yawning. I told him he needs to rest, so we'd leave so he could get some sleep. I kissed his hand, told him I love him ... and, yes ... My dad smiled.

There's just something super special about a dad's smile. Kinda has a way of melting his daughter's heart. Seeing that smile gives me confidence that he's going to fight this horrible cancer and everything will be okay. Seeing that smile reassures me that our family is on an amazing journey filled with love, strength, hope and faith.

Thank you all for being a part of this journey.

November 8, 2012 - Dad's Room

Dad's Room
I am sitting at my dad's computer in his bedroom. He isn't here, but the room has him written all over it. The briefcase he carried to work up until he retired in 1987. An old ALCOA "safety orange" umbrella he carried at work when it was raining. Several mementos from Auburn University where he graduated with a mechanical engineering degree back in 1948. Photo albums. Cough drops. His house shoes that I bought him when he was recovering from four bypasses back in 2004. His favorite pair of pajamas. An antique lamp that belonged to his mother. A laundry basket filled with his clean laundry that had been freshly folded moments before mom took him to the doctor the day he entered the hospital. And, of course, his computer.

To anyone just passing by the window of my dad's room ... If they were to look into this room ... They'd probably think it's just another bedroom. They might even think there's some junk in this room. To me, it's a part of my dad's personality. His livelihood. His soul. And, yes, a part of me. And our family. After all, we are all in the photos in the photo albums in his bookcase. We lovingly selected the Auburn mementos as special gifts for dad for Christmas and Birthdays. We remember dad using that brief case and that umbrella and him walking down the hallway wearing those pajamas. I remember dad coughing during the night time when I was here for two weeks in September. I'd worry about him, then I'd hear the sound of the cough drop wrapper and know he would have some relief soon.

So, dad's "junk" are our treasures.

Dad seems to be doing much better. He was waking up nicely when we saw him this afternoon. We suspect by tomorrow he will be a lot cleared headed and will begin to understand what he has gone through and what's ahead. He has a long road ahead if he is to ever fully recover. He will not be sleeping in this bedroom for a long time, if ever again. Mom is 85 and has been taking care of him (mostly single handedly) for many years. 62 years, in fact. She has been keeping house, doing laundry, cooking, decorating, entertaining, raising kids and making our house a home for a very long time. Dad doesn't often tell mom how much he appreciates her efforts, but he doesn't complain much either. Mom never complained about being a homemaker because she has always known it's a very important job. A very difficult, and often thankless job.

Mom is tired and wearing down. Dad is ailing and needs more physical help than mom can give him. He's always been a large, strong man who is super smart, but stubborn as a mule when he wants to be. Dad will be needing specialized professional care for quite some time, so he will be going to a facility where he can be cared for around the clock once his stay at the hospital is done. Mom is worried that we won't find a place that will be a good "home away from home" for dad during this recovery. It's quite possible he will never get to come back to their home permanently, but he will very likely get to live in the assisted living facility that's literally right across the street.

Mom told me today that it's awful getting old. Body parts don't work like they should. It takes twice as long (or longer) to do things as it did in younger years. The memory goes. The eyes go. Hearing goes. Reaction time and reflexes slow to a crawl. I've seen it, so I know it's true.

I've decided there are a few things in life that are definitely worth putting up high on the list of priorities, if they aren't there already. In no certain order they are:
*** Live life today. Don't wait till you (insert some silly goal or chore) before you do the things you really want to do.
***Respect your elders and listen to them with an open mind and heart. Remember that they truly do know more than you do ... They've lived longer and seen more, but make a mental (or recorded) note of what they teach you because they may not remember all those important things as they age.
***Tell the people you love that you love them. Don't wait - You might not get another chance.
***Compliment more and criticize less.
***Be kind, smile more, and realize the people you meet might actually be having a worse day/week/life than you.

Basically ... Live each day as if it's your last day on earth and leave a positive footprint wherever you go. And, yes ... I am going to do my best to follow these words of advice!

Thank you all for all you do for me, my dad and our family. You do make a difference!

November 7, 2012 - Surgery

Surgery

Well, today was the day. Dad's surgery. Feeding tube. Trach. Waiting. Worrying. Hoping. Praying.

Mom and I went to the hospital this morning before 11:00. Bill and Christy came over shortly afterwards. We didn't know what time they'd take dad back for surgery, but we wanted to spend time with him, none the less.

At 2:00 we were told to go eat some lunch and they'd call my cell phone if they needed us before we got back. So we went downstairs, got our lunch out of the car, and sat in the room where the vending machines are to eat. Mom made pimiento cheese sandwiches, plus we had bananas, apples, pears, chips, and chocolate.

We returned to dad's room just before 3:00 and he was still there, and apparently, the doctors weren't ready for him. At a little before 4:30 they came for him. We each talked to dad beginning with mom, then me, then Bill, then Christy, then me again ... I felt it was important to reinforce our love and need for him by telling him ... Just one more time.

We went into the surgery waiting room where there's a digital info board that lets you know the status of your loved one's surgical process. Pre-op, Surgery, Recovery. The board showed which operating room dad was in, but the status never was updated.

Cindy Shepard came up to see us for a bit. Cindy is like my sister. We have known each other forever, and we know each other almost as well (maybe more, in some ways!) as our spouses! I walked her down to the front door and watched her drive away. She brought forms to us to fill out to get dad's medals. She has done SOOOOOO much to help us get them for dad!

As I walked towards the waiting room door I saw Dr. Reiser walking towards me. We walked in together and he told us about his portion of dad' surgery ... All good. He told us Dr. Adham was in there doing his magic! Once he was finished, he came in to tell us how everything went. We asked a few questions and he gave us answers. He told us we could go see dad, but it would be thirty minutes or so, so we moved into the ICU waiting room so they could find us when it was okay for us to go on back.

Bill and Christy stepped out for a few minutes to make a few phone calls and I looked up and saw a very welcome familiar face ... Rick Carver! Throughout this entire ordeal Rick has been posting on my updates that he's praying for us. I had no idea that he's a respiratory therapist until he sent me a PM a week or so ago. Rick's visit was totally awesome and VERY welcome! He made us all feel so much better about what all dad is going through. His information is priceless!! So many details, gray areas, and unknown territories have been brought into the clear now. Perhaps that's because the surgery was over and now we could concentrate on what's next. Perhaps it's because Rick has a great way of relating to us and sharing his personal experiences with us. Perhaps it's because he sensed fear in my posts. Perhaps it's because he truly knows how being faced with something like this is difficult to deal with and hearing it from an old friend is the best way to handle it. Whatever the case ... Rick, our family thanks you from the bottom of our hearts!

So, the next step was visiting dad. Seeing the new devises that will make his life easier during the upcoming months. We haven't been in dad's room much after the shift changes, so the night nurses were mostly new to us. We learned that dad's nurse tonight will be Brianna. We met her. She talked to us about dad. She showed us the feeding tube and the trach. She explained how they work and what to expect. We alerted her to dad's extreme sensitivity to noise. She said she'd put up a sign so the other nurses would know to be extra quiet. Just because he's 88 years old doesn't mean he's hard of hearing ... Far from it, actually!

So, we all walked out of the hospital, got into our cars and drove home. Dinner. Texts. Phone calls. IPad. The news. Next? Bed!

Throughout the day and into the evening I checked my emails, texts, and Facebook posts. I shared your comments, well wishes, prayers, and love with my family. We are in awe at how much love and support you all have given us! Please know that we notice and appreciate everything! From a simple one word post ...  to "praying" to "thinking of you" to the food and offering to sit with dad to give us a break to the visits ... Every single gesture means the world to us!

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is the day my father discovers his life (our lives!!) has changed forever. Mom is worried about how dad will take all of this and I keep telling her, "We are a family. We make decisions together. We made this decision in the best interest of dad. Mom, you are not to blame. We decided to do the absolutely best option available for dad. We will get through this together." Tomorrow morning the Cotton's/Blickenstorfer's new journey begins.

We hope that you all will continue to be a part of our journey. Our lives. Our family. We invite you to celebrate a part of Mercer Cotton's life that you all had a big part in helping make possible. Without your help we never would have made it this far.

Thank you,
Mercer and Effie Cotton
Bill and Christy Cotton
Conrad and Carol Cotton Blickenstorfer

November 6, 2012 - Election Night

Election Night

It's 9:00 PM on Election Night. First time I ever remember my dad not sitting glued to the TV. Not this year. By the time the election votes have been tallied, my dad will have just been taken off his feeding tube in preparation for his surgery tomorrow afternoon. 
Election Night. Mom and I are watching TV to keep our minds busy so we don't worry about dad's surgery tomorrow. We have decided to pack lunch for all four family members who will be spending the day in the waiting room. Mom makes a mean pimento cheese, so that's what we will have, along with apples, bananas, chips and chocolate.
Chocolate. Isn't that one of the four major food groups? I'm sure it is ... Conrad, mom and dad will beg to differ with you if you say otherwise. Either way, I hear its one of the best comfort foods, so we will all take advantage of its effects tomorrow. Mmmmm, chocolate.
The nurses in ICU are absolutely amazing. Katelyn, Karen, Ash, Amy ... You all are Godsends! You most definitely have all found your calling! Nothing we can say or do could ever come close to the gratitude we owe you. We have been able to sleep because we know you all are taking care of Dad. We know he will be in your excellent care for a while longer after his surgery tomorrow.
Tomorrow. The day we have been waiting for. Dad will go under the knife and have a couple of new additions to his body. Not human additions, but man-made additions to make his life more comfortable during the next few months while he undergoes treatments. He will have a trach in this throat. He will have a feeding tube in his stomach. These things scare us because we know nothing about them. We are hoping to understand them quickly, so we can help dad with this journey.
Family: Mercer, Effie, Bill, Christy, Conrad and Carol. (I wont include grandchildren and great grandchildren's names here.) Our family is unique. Our journey is unique. Our thoughts and conversations are often chaotic in nature, at least to outsiders, but we totally understand each other. Have you ever sat and listened to an orchestra as they warm up before a concert? That's us. We are an ensemble of harmony, atonal, dissonance, expressionism, impromptu, fugue, obbligato, polyphonic, staccato, and often a lot of stretto. However, when it comes down to the wire, we pull it all together and produce a magnificent symphony. (Or so it seems to us!)
Tomorrow. The day of our performance. We will be scared. We will be excited. We will be nervous. We will be confident. We will be strong. We will be family. Our family isn't complete without Mercer. Tomorrow morning we will tell him how much we love him. We will tell him how much we need him. He will hear us, and he will fight for his life.
Please continue to pray. You all are the notes, the staff, the clef, the key, the cord, the measures, and the pitch that help us make our symphony happen. Much love to you all.

November 5, 2012 - Voting

Voting 

Early this year my dad got a letter notifying him that he had to have a photo ID to vote. He asked me to take him to the DVM to have his photo added to his drivers license. We didn't make it over there during that trip, but Conrad and I made a point to take him when we were here in September. That was quite an experience. Took about an hour with a crowded room of people getting their license, etc., but it was well worth our time. The gentleman who took dad's photo asked me if he served in the military. I said yes, he was at Normandy in Patton's command. He was in awe. I told him dad received the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star, among several other medals. He asked my dad to come over to his counter. He saluted my dad, shook his hand, and thanked him for all he has done and for all he has sacrificed for our country. That guy has no idea how much my dad sacrificed. He was seriously injured by mortar. He suffered permanent nerve damage from frostbite. Shell shock. Depression. Anxiety. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 
I included this in my posts about my dad because its relevant to what we are dealing with currently. He never applied for Benefits or pensions. He never asked the VA for help in any way. He never received his medals. He never talks about his time in the military. Conrad has asked him questions about it and he answers, but he never gives more information than what is asked.
I post this on the Eve of the election because it is important to remember those who have given much to protect our country. Our freedom. Our home. Remember that a veteran who has served in a foreign conflict has given a huge part of their lives that they can never get back. Many have lost their lives protecting this great country. Many have lost limbs, or senses. All of them, dead or alive, have given more than most of us will ever imagine to make sure we are all safe at night when we sleep. Our children are safe as they attend school. We live in a free country. Don't forget their spouses, children, siblings and parents. They are all effected. 
Tomorrow is Election Day. Go vote. Please vote. Do the right thing. I gave up my ability to vote in this election by flying to Tennessee to take care of one elderly veteran. Am I upset my voting voice won't count this time? Absolutely! Would I do it again for my dad? Absolutely! He fought to protect this country so his unborn children, grandchildren and great grandson would have a safe place to live. My dad is my hero.
Everything has been decided about the plan of attack for his surgery and his treatment that follows. Tomorrow we do last minute errands to ready ourselves for dad's surgery. We will rest. We will eat properly. We will sleep. We will pray singly. We will pray as a family. We will be ready Wednesday for what God has in store for our family. Please continue to pray. Pray for dad's strength to make it through surgery. Pray for clear minds, strong eyes, and steady hands of the surgeons who will work their magic/miracles on dad. Pray for us to stay strong and have faith as we wait.

November 4, 2012 - Decisions, Decisions

Decisions, Decisions ...

Well, every day is a new day with different obstacles, paths and decisions to be made. Today was one of the more difficult days. Luckily, our day was filled with new information, surrounded by positive medical personnel. What has been very foggy for us all seems clear now. We do have options, but one of them shined bright above all the others.
Yes, dad was sedated today to keep him from pulling tubes out, but he seemed very much with us. While doctors were in the room with us Christy and I monitored dad's expressions and his blood pressure and both of us felt like he was listening closely to what was being said.
We received a lot of information from his ENT doctor, then even more from the radiation doctor. Once terms were defined, procedures explained, his condition confirmed, treatments discussed, and a ballpark timeline was discussed, we all saw the correct path before us.
We all have a fear if the unknown. Medical terminology is intimidating. The word "surgery" is scary. Radiation. Tracheotomy. Targeted therapy. What's not scary about that?

Our entire family is impressed with these doctors. We are impressed with their willingness to treat an 88 year old man. Maybe it was because our family was all present when they showed up. Maybe it was because the nurses told them how much we love dad. Maybe they just knew ...

So, tomorrow we work on details and rescheduling appointments, etc. I feel like we are on the correct path. It's a long, long road, but we are all committed to carry dad through this journey. With the amazing help of God, friends and family we will succeed. Thank you all for all you do. We truly do feel your healing hands holding us together and up.

***Something I didn't mention earlier*** I got the opportunity to be alone with my dad for a while this afternoon. I told him lots of things I always wanted to say, but never had the chance. I put his hand in mine while I talked to him. I told him what a wonderful father he has always been and that I could not imagine ever having anyone else as my dad. I told him we are doing everything in our power to save his life. I told him he's my hero ... At that point I saw a tear roll down his cheek and he tightened his fingers around mine. Now tell me a sedated person cannot hear you ...

We got a lot of positive feedback from the doctors yesterday. I think it was what our family needed to hear, especially for Effie. She was asking the doctors all the questions that she had concerns about. After the doctor answered all her questions with a positive answer, her face lit up with a big smile. That put a smile on all our faces, because we knew the relief that she felt. Effie said they had been married for 62 years and she was not ready to give him up anytime soon. I know Mercer heard that and he was thinking I am not ready to give up either.

November 3, 2012 - The "C" Word

The "C" Word

Well, it has been a long day. We received word today that the biopsy came back positive for cancer ... Squamous-cell carcinoma. Not what we wanted to hear, but not the worst kind of cancer either. Most cases of SCC are skin cancer, and the most common cases are men over 45 years of age who have had skin cancer. Oftentimes these cases are drinkers and/or smokers, but not always. Dad did both in his younger years, but not in excess. SCC can be caused by poisons and toxins which are mostly ingested in food. Apparently high levels of arsenic can be found in fish, chicken, mushrooms and rice ... Who knew?!

So, now that we know what it is, we have to wait to find out how bad it is. Once we find that out we find out options for treatment, or if there even are any. Oh, there are, but for an 88 year old man with Alzheimer's and diabetes? We absolutely LOVE the nurses who are caring for dad, and the doctors we have talked to are wonderful ... Well, all but one doctor and a nurse practitioner ... But I'm firing those two!!

The reason I mentioned dad's age is because it is becoming increasingly difficult for older people to receive proper health care, and God only knows how much worse it will get before it gets better. Insurance has become either too expensive, impossible to get, or too much red tape to get procedures approved. I hope things get straightened out before I am old!! I certainly don't blame the doctors. They work long hours, are often not appreciated, and must pay high insurance premiums to keep the ambulance chasers at bay.

Sorry ... I'll get off my soapbox now ... My brain hurts. My eyes hurt. My hair hurts. My body is numb. I have no appetite. I'd think I might be dehydrated, but I've been drinking water and tea all day. I cannot sleep. I cannot think about anything but my dad. And my mom. And my brother. Christy. Conrad. ... Okay, my family and how difficult the upcoming decisions might be ... But mostly, my dad.

You all ... My precious friends ... Have been holding us all up in prayer and we definitely feel it. We all appreciate it more than you know. Please continue to pray. Pray that the medical/surgical team will say they can do surgery to remove more of the tumor to make dad's airway more passable so he can breathe without a trach. Please pray for him to be strong enough to make it through the surgery. It's going to be a long road, but with you all helping to hold us up, perhaps we won't feel every bump.

Thank you, dear friends. Much love to you all.