Motherhood

Narcan?!?!?!

Published on June 17, 2024June 18, 2024 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

We got home from the hospital late Friday of last week. After 5 days and 4 nights-her longest hospital stay since she was a toddler, we trekked from Long Island to Staten Island, a 35-mile journey that even at a carefully selected 8PM still took us 90 minutes.

I’m certain we were navigated through every single pothole on the traffic-filled trip. I dodged every self-absorbed speeding lunatic while doing my best to keep from jostling the car too much. I teetered between fervent prayer and fierce anger that I took out in a few temper tantrums at my steering wheel. My knuckles were white (and a little bruised) when we finally arrived home.

While we got her washed off, and I took the most necessary shower of my life, I let a few things sink in.

The week began to replay in my mind and I started to grasp the gravity of what we were in the middle of.

Somewhere between The Waiting Place and Agony I left out that incident in the recovery room. The one after she woke up screaming, they gave her some IV pain medication and something happened. Her monitors are never comforting, as something is always beeping, but I instinctively got Ella out of the way as I watched her oxygen saturation start to dive and hit the 70s. Four of the most authoritative badass women I’ve ever seen moved in a way that assured me they had done this before. They had the oxygen out and there was water and something about making it moist. To be honest I don’t care enough to even look it up. All I know is within seconds of them arriving things went back in the right direction. She slept for another few hours in an oxygen mask and I stared at that monitor like it was my job. That entire incident could not have been more than 30 seconds – but I can tell you everything about that tiny area in the post-op unit. I can feel myself standing there… watching… terrified.

It wasn’t the first scary thing that happened.

The amount of narcotics it took to keep the pain at bay was flat-out disturbing. That, combined with a baseline of POTS which keeps her blood pressure often low and her heart rate often high, caused chaos every single time someone came in to take her vitals. My notes have her 6/5 early AM pressures at 68/37, 74/41… her high that day came in at 91/57. This meant that every single time someone came in, the patient care aide would take the pressure twice. Then they would look very concerned. And when her pulse ox showed at a very unimpressive 94-96 they would get the nurse. The nurse would then take her pressure and page the doctor/ and or the pain management team. Ultimately they would wake her, shake their heads, and repeat the same cycle. Every 4 hours. For days.

There is no solid reason yet as to why her pressures were so low. Like so many other things in Meghan’s life, eventually, people just shrug their shoulders.

That hospital room, with the hum of machines alternating with wails of pain, it was a lot. And I was happy to wash some of it off in that shower.

It is good I can recover quickly after a shower because I am glad I was awake when I set up to review the 7 medications we left the hospital with. It was at that moment I processed why the nurse had asked me if I knew how to use Narcan. I had answered her so matter of factly, she must’ve thought I knew more than what I had seen on a random television show, and she was comfortable when I said “one spray up each nostril.” I guess I was in a haze. I remember asking if it could hurt her, and she said, when in doubt give it. Like the EpiPen training we get annually at my elementary school I had thought, trying to normalize the fact that I was about to drive 90 minutes with my child so drugged up that I was now carrying medicine in case of an overdose.

I laid everything out by my computer and did what I always do when I’m nervous… I organized it into a table. This was likely the most important table of my life. I felt alarmingly unqualified and flat-out terrified.

It didn’t stay nearly this neat as I planned out how to alternate prescription acetaminophen with ibuprofen while separating hydromorphone (every 4 hours) with diazepam (every 6 hours) by at least an hour because both can lower her already low blood pressure. That’s where the Narcan came in. The methocarbamol was for breakthrough muscle spasms but no more than every 12 hours. The Zofran… well because narcotics and nausea…

The first few nights there was something at least every 2 hours. I got into an every 3 hour routine soon after but it definitely was the worst math word problem I have ever solved.

Every simple task was a hurdle. Walking on the crutches when she was so drugged up was flat-out dangerous. Laying on her back with a 3-inch incision on the back of her thigh was virtually impossible. Sitting was not an option as the hip is not allowed to go to a 90-degree angle. The brace created to help with the hip was a poorly designed disaster. But, in fairness, this tumor was rather uncommon.

These last two weeks have left me speechless more times than I care to count.

The day after we got home when I went through the mail, the formal denial of any post-operative stay arrived at my house. Years of experience with this caused me to barely flinch. I three-hole punched and filed it. Today in the mail came this notice, the one they sent after reviewing her POST operative file. If you have any history with hospitals you know this speaks VOLUMES…

Sometimes in the night when she is asleep next to me in the bed, I just stare in awe of all she has endured and continues to endure. I pray for guidance to keep her heart soft and her will strong. I talk to every single angel we have and beg them for signs they are watching.

And then, when I still can’t sleep I remember that her story, this crazy, often flat-out unfair and unreal story will somewhere in her future serve her as she brings her whole life of experiences with her into her own professional life as a physician assistant.

There is increasing time between the terrifying spasms. That’s what I’ve got for today. That and some photos of a really cute Ella who kicked some major butt for 5 days and 4 nights… yeppp she stayed with us!

#beatingcowdens…

“Cancerversary- a celebration of life BEYOND cancer”

Published on March 5, 2015 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

To some people the idea of celebrating a “cancerversary,” or the anniversary of the day you became a “survivor,” is silly. But, to someone who is date obsessed, it makes sense to celebrate the victory. It’s not about remembering the bad. It’s all about celebrating the good. The reality of the here and now.

This morning my daughter handed me this letter – typed from her computer by her own hand. I am sharing it – as it was written – with her permission.

Dear Mom,

I love you with to infinity and back. You are the best mom I could ever ask for and I am so glad that you found the breast cancer early. I could never imagine a life without you. You have always stood by my side, and protected me. Even when I say, or do some stuff, I hope you know that that does not change what I feel towards you. Love. Compassion. You have been my guardian angel in small ways and big. You make sure my shoes don’t get eaten!, you hold me tight and talk me through tough nights, and you are always there for me when I am in pain. When I am in the hospital you are there when I can’t walk, when I cry out in pain, and when too many thoughts come rushing into my head. You have this unique ability to just make people smile, and you are the most pure-hearted person I know. You do for others, even though often you never get a thank you, or some king of acknowledgment. You are kind to a fault. Mom, you have made such a big impact on my life, I would not be me without you. You know what, if I kept going on, it’d be the year 3001! Anyway, back to the point. I love you more than you could know, and I am so grateful to have you as my mom.

I love you mom,

my guardian angel

Meghan

Really? What more could I want? Except for a LOT more “cancerversaries” to watch her grow up and change the world…

Published on May 11, 2014 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

MOTHERHOOD

I’ve only been a mother for less than 11 years, but I have been shaped and molded by some of the best around.

At 40+ years old, I can still boast THREE Grandmas that have all been a huge factor in my life.

I have my Mom – my hero.

And, I am friends with some of the best Moms in the business.

Not to mention – I parent a pretty darn smart 10-year-old – who has shared many life lessons with me.

So in honor of Mother’s Day – a most unusual one for me – I thought I’d try to reflect on some things I’ve been taught, and some things I’ve learned all by myself.

1. Motherhood is messy. Despite the best laid plans, no matter how your child, or children have been brought into this world it is a messy job. Things don’t go according to plan. Ever. So stop planning and stick your fingers in the mess of it all. Heck – jump right in and play. Your kids will remember your smile more than your polished table, organized closet or streak free windows. (I’m still working on that one!)

2. Motherhood is exhausting. Just when you think you have it – something will throw you into a new stratosphere. You will be tired for the rest of your natural life. Eat as well as you can. Take care of yourself. Try to give up caffeine. Splurge on under eye concealer. Then get in the car and head to swim practice, doctor’s appointments, shopping, therapy. While you are in the car – TALK. Children in the car are a captive audience. You can have some of your most important conversations there. Plus – it’s illegal to text and drive.

3. Motherhood is different for everyone. Comparisons are just not a good idea. As a matter of fact – make a habit of NOT comparing. There is no need to justify having one child, or claim you’re more exhausted with three. Each one, however the child became yours is a gift to be cherished. They are not potato chips, and having one doesn’t make it “easy” any more than having 3 or 4 makes it “hard.” Avoid telling anyone how much tougher it is to have a boy, or a girl. Avoid generalizing and making excuses. Just love your child.

4. Motherhood involves paying attention. Stop texting. Put down your cell phone. LISTEN to them. TALK to them. You may be very impressed by what they have to say if you get to know them.

5. Children are unique. Let them learn early to embrace their individuality. Create an atmosphere of unconditional love. Build their confidence, and keep them grounded enough not to become arrogant. Develop gracious losers, and equally gracious winners.

6. Motherhood is like being on stage. All day. All the time. And they watch EVERY thing you do. If you wonder how they learned that habit – good or bad – look at yourself. They want to be just like you. And chances are good they will. BE someone you want them to be.

7. Motherhood involves worry in a way you’ve never ever thought of before. That little heart beating outside of your body – no matter how old they become – will always and forever be more important than your own. You will worry about sniffles, and scraped knees, and heartache, and doctor’s appointments, and surgery, and pain, and healing. You will worry about doing too much, and doing too little.

8. No matter what you do, and how hard you try, you’ll never have it quite right. So always do the best you can with what you have where you are. That way you can rest your head peacefully every night.

9. Teach compassion. They won’t learn it unless you do. Teach them that “everyone has something.” No matter where you go or what you do or who you meet each day – EVERYONE is struggling with something. Whether it’s physical, mental, emotional, financial, greet every person with the knowledge they are bearing a burden. Try to frame all of your interactions with everyone around that knowledge.

10. Motherhood involves NEVER GIVING UP! Tenacity like you never imagined is necessary to do it well. When they are down and out and done, look at them and reassure them. Hold them. Support them. Forgive them. Love them with all your heart. The returns you get on the best investment of your life are immeasurable.

So as we sit tonight in the hospital, waiting, wondering, and worrying – we are still thankful. We have so many blessings in our lives.

Take a look at some of the women who helped make me who I am today – and enjoy what’s left of your Mother’s Day.