Hi Friends and Family,
Monday Gabriele was discharged from Cedars-Sinai hospital in Los Angeles after nearly seven weeks save for a brief two-day break that resulted in her being readmitted two days after her previous discharge. She underwent a 12-hour Whipple procedure two weeks ago which involved removing a portion of her tumor-infested small intestine, gall bladder, a portion of her pancreas, and then reattaching all her parts.
She is doing relatively well, taking oral fluids, intravenous nutrition, and direct intestinal tube feeding. She is walking, doing muscle strengthening and even a little work on her computer. Her pain is controlled with oral narcotics and a Fentanyl patch.
Once she recovers from this surgical procedure, the metastatic liver tumor will be addressed, using one of several options including radioactive pellets, radiation, high temperature therapy, liquid nitrogen therapy, and/or surgical excision. She will also receive more chemotherapy at some point.
She is touched by everyone's well-wishes, prayers, and positive energy. We look forward to being with you when she recovers.
Love, Richard
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Update from Gabriele, October 23rd, 2012
Dear all,
After a trip to hell and back and overwhelming pain, I am back home in our little guest house in Los Angeles, waited on by three daughters, a surgeon son-in-law who is now my second personal physician, and a doctor-husband who takes charge of me at night. I am grateful for the green trees, for the sun glinting off the red tile roof of the main house, and I look forward to healing.
My cat sat on my chest this morning and buried her head in my neck, which means she has forgiven me for being away for so long. Three times while I was hospitalized she peed on our bed in protest of my absence.
Pain is part of my life right now, but it will ease. The doctors and nurses marveled when all my kids would appear in my hospital room, remarking that I have an amazing family and support system. I am enjoying home-made soups, which are finally staying down, foot rubs from my daughter and son-in-law, and getting bathed in lotion and love by my grandchildren, who still think I look beautiful.
This is NOT fun, by any means, but so far it has been an incredible, if undesired, adventure. I so cherish your notes of encouragement, and I am deeply grateful for the circle of family and friends who sustain me. It is the greatest gift I can imagine.
An Exchange of Gifts
--Alden Nowlan
As long as you read this poem
I will be writing it.
I am writing it here and now
before your eyes,
although you can't see me.
Perhaps you'll dismiss this
as a verbal trick,
the joke is you're wrong;
the real trick is your pretending
this is something fixed and solid
external to us both.
I tell you better:
I will keep on
writing this poem for you
even after I am dead.
After a trip to hell and back and overwhelming pain, I am back home in our little guest house in Los Angeles, waited on by three daughters, a surgeon son-in-law who is now my second personal physician, and a doctor-husband who takes charge of me at night. I am grateful for the green trees, for the sun glinting off the red tile roof of the main house, and I look forward to healing.
My cat sat on my chest this morning and buried her head in my neck, which means she has forgiven me for being away for so long. Three times while I was hospitalized she peed on our bed in protest of my absence.
Pain is part of my life right now, but it will ease. The doctors and nurses marveled when all my kids would appear in my hospital room, remarking that I have an amazing family and support system. I am enjoying home-made soups, which are finally staying down, foot rubs from my daughter and son-in-law, and getting bathed in lotion and love by my grandchildren, who still think I look beautiful.
This is NOT fun, by any means, but so far it has been an incredible, if undesired, adventure. I so cherish your notes of encouragement, and I am deeply grateful for the circle of family and friends who sustain me. It is the greatest gift I can imagine.
An Exchange of Gifts
--Alden Nowlan
As long as you read this poem
I will be writing it.
I am writing it here and now
before your eyes,
although you can't see me.
Perhaps you'll dismiss this
as a verbal trick,
the joke is you're wrong;
the real trick is your pretending
this is something fixed and solid
external to us both.
I tell you better:
I will keep on
writing this poem for you
even after I am dead.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Update from Steph, October 20th, 2012
This update is from Stephanie. It's been a while since we've written! Thank you for your emails and calls, they are much appreciated. We are sustained by the wide-flung community of support from you all.
Mom is still in the hospital, but getting ready to leave. All the support systems are getting spooled up: home-care nursing, guest house cleaned, central line out, PICC line in, as many tubes removed as possible, monitoring of normal bowel movements (YAY! they are normal!), slow introduction of clear liquids, shift from TPN to tube feeding.
There is still a lot of pain; Mom's incision is an impressive peace sign across her abdomen, and she is quite distended from the accumulation of free fluid from the long 12-hour surgery. The distention makes her a little short of breath, and it is uncomfortable always. But a CT scan shows that she is healing, and the doctors are happy with her progress, even though the pain makes Mom feel discouraged.
On the up side, Mom is able to get in and out of bed with relative ease and no help, her GI tract is working well, and she is walking all over the hospital a couple times a day. She has started with working out with weights and bands in her bed, and she is looking much more her normal self.
I'll post again once Mom is home, I hope on Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, I want to thank all of you for your love, energy, support, well-wishes, and positive energy streaming towards my mom. She is such a very special person, always ready to help others in need, and her support of us kids has been a mainstay in our lives. One of Mom's friends, Christiane Ledakis, summed this up in a beautiful image I want to share with you all.
Gabriele,
Sending you prayers and loving wishes, from Spain still, where the white figs are ripening.
The blackbirds own exclusive rights to the top of the crown of the flourishing tree, to its upper, unreachable branches; they leave the low-hanging wealth untouched.
The figs are plump from the summer sun, and from prayers they overheard traveling on the breeze, and lines of poetry mumbled and scribbled across white pages, whiter than the skin of the figs that is a delicate pale green, their white undergarments shimmering through where the outer robe starts to split and crackle from the abundance they hold. Sometimes they overflow and a drop oozes out and dangles like a dewdrop longing for the tip of a tongue to catch it. Once in a while an impatient fig, unable to hold its loving sweetness, bursts open, bares its shockingly blood-red heart, and is transformed into a bizarre, luxuriant flower, large, juicy three petals spread wide.
The blackbirds turn this living sweetness into song; the poet turns it into words; the friend into fervent well wishes; the angel into blessings.
It's sweetness, Gabriele, traveling your way: your own lovingness, returning.
With love to all,
Stephanie
Mom is still in the hospital, but getting ready to leave. All the support systems are getting spooled up: home-care nursing, guest house cleaned, central line out, PICC line in, as many tubes removed as possible, monitoring of normal bowel movements (YAY! they are normal!), slow introduction of clear liquids, shift from TPN to tube feeding.
There is still a lot of pain; Mom's incision is an impressive peace sign across her abdomen, and she is quite distended from the accumulation of free fluid from the long 12-hour surgery. The distention makes her a little short of breath, and it is uncomfortable always. But a CT scan shows that she is healing, and the doctors are happy with her progress, even though the pain makes Mom feel discouraged.
On the up side, Mom is able to get in and out of bed with relative ease and no help, her GI tract is working well, and she is walking all over the hospital a couple times a day. She has started with working out with weights and bands in her bed, and she is looking much more her normal self.
I'll post again once Mom is home, I hope on Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, I want to thank all of you for your love, energy, support, well-wishes, and positive energy streaming towards my mom. She is such a very special person, always ready to help others in need, and her support of us kids has been a mainstay in our lives. One of Mom's friends, Christiane Ledakis, summed this up in a beautiful image I want to share with you all.
Gabriele,
Sending you prayers and loving wishes, from Spain still, where the white figs are ripening.
The blackbirds own exclusive rights to the top of the crown of the flourishing tree, to its upper, unreachable branches; they leave the low-hanging wealth untouched.
The figs are plump from the summer sun, and from prayers they overheard traveling on the breeze, and lines of poetry mumbled and scribbled across white pages, whiter than the skin of the figs that is a delicate pale green, their white undergarments shimmering through where the outer robe starts to split and crackle from the abundance they hold. Sometimes they overflow and a drop oozes out and dangles like a dewdrop longing for the tip of a tongue to catch it. Once in a while an impatient fig, unable to hold its loving sweetness, bursts open, bares its shockingly blood-red heart, and is transformed into a bizarre, luxuriant flower, large, juicy three petals spread wide.
The blackbirds turn this living sweetness into song; the poet turns it into words; the friend into fervent well wishes; the angel into blessings.
It's sweetness, Gabriele, traveling your way: your own lovingness, returning.
With love to all,
Stephanie
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Update from Rich, October 11th, 2012
Dear Friends and Family,
Gabriele is doing very well following a 13-hour Whipple procedure yesterday which involved removing the intestinal tumor, part of the pancreas, the gall bladder, and reattaching everything back up. Our surgeon was quite pleased; the solitary liver tumor options will be addressed later. We continue to be grateful for your prayers, concern, and well wishes. Gabriele and I also look forward to celebrating with you her return to a much more healthy status.
Love,
Richard
http://walkingpapers.wordpress.com/category/gabriele-rico/
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Update from Steph, October 9th, 2012
Hi everyone,
I wanted to add to Mom's recent post. She is restless in the hospital, the ups and downs of this illness taking a thousand tiny bites out of her morale and her energy, but with her typical resilience, she rebounds and models for us yet again how to live a full life. She is, in short, quite amazing.
Mom landed back in the hospital a week ago Monday after being discharged the previous Friday. Looking back, it began with an infection in her bile duct caused by a blood clot on the tumor, followed by insufficient hydration and her extreme willingness to exercise even in hot weather! She recovered beautifully, but the doctors wanted to keep her for observation until her surgery.
We are scheduled for surgery this Wednesday. The procedure she needs is called a Whipple, which entails taking out the bottom of the stomach, the head of the pancreas, the gallbladder, and the duodenum (top part of the small intestine) where the main tumor is located. It is a long surgery with lots of fine sewing: reattaching the stomach to the lower part of the jejeunum (second part of the intestine), sewing in the common bile duct to the jejeunum, and reattaching the pancreas nearby. Our surgeon is very proficient at this operation in particular.
Please think of us tomorrow as we go with our mom through this big operation. Her whole family is surrounding her, and she feels enveloped in the love and great energy that all of you are sending her.
Love, Steph
I wanted to add to Mom's recent post. She is restless in the hospital, the ups and downs of this illness taking a thousand tiny bites out of her morale and her energy, but with her typical resilience, she rebounds and models for us yet again how to live a full life. She is, in short, quite amazing.
Mom landed back in the hospital a week ago Monday after being discharged the previous Friday. Looking back, it began with an infection in her bile duct caused by a blood clot on the tumor, followed by insufficient hydration and her extreme willingness to exercise even in hot weather! She recovered beautifully, but the doctors wanted to keep her for observation until her surgery.
We are scheduled for surgery this Wednesday. The procedure she needs is called a Whipple, which entails taking out the bottom of the stomach, the head of the pancreas, the gallbladder, and the duodenum (top part of the small intestine) where the main tumor is located. It is a long surgery with lots of fine sewing: reattaching the stomach to the lower part of the jejeunum (second part of the intestine), sewing in the common bile duct to the jejeunum, and reattaching the pancreas nearby. Our surgeon is very proficient at this operation in particular.
Please think of us tomorrow as we go with our mom through this big operation. Her whole family is surrounding her, and she feels enveloped in the love and great energy that all of you are sending her.
Love, Steph
Friday, October 5, 2012
Update from Gabriele, October 5th, 2012
Pain is greedy. I’m back at Cedars Sinai, waiting for the go ahead to have
major surgery. After a month in
the hospital, the hour by hour, minute by minute wait to move forward into the
biggest—and most dangerous—leg of this adventure is taking its toll—pain
stealing the motivation to use the computer, to engage in conversation, to
exercise my hurt body, which is necessary for success.
At this point, the amazing doctors have decided to operate
next week, which, from my vantage point in this hospital bed, seems eons away. I have so much to say to all of you,
but pain keeps shutting me down.
Pain –by Emily Dickenson
Pain -- has an Element of Blank --
It cannot recollect
When it begun -- or if there were
A time when it was not --
It has no Future -- but itself --
Its Infinite contain
Its Past -- enlightened to perceive
New Periods -- of Pain.
It cannot recollect
When it begun -- or if there were
A time when it was not --
It has no Future -- but itself --
Its Infinite contain
Its Past -- enlightened to perceive
New Periods -- of Pain.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Update from Rich, September 29, 2012
This is an update from Rich:
Hello Friends and Family,
Thank you again for all your prayers, well wishes, and healing thoughts. Gabriele was discharged from Cedars-Sinai Hospital two days ago and is adjusting to not being awakened to have her blood pressure taken or blood drawn. Her spirits remain very good and she looks forward to having the tumors surgically removed in a couple of weeks at Cedars-Sinai. Now, she has tubes in her stomach to drain fluids that can’t pass the obstruction and another tube in her small intestines to give her nutrition. She has lost some weight, and we are trying to fatten her up for the surgical procedure. She walked nearly a mile yesterday and a little less this morning; she also lifts weights and uses stretch bands daily.
Gabriele is touched by everyone’s support; she wishes she could respond to everyone.
Love,
Richard
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