Yesterday the PTs got Karlton up in a special apparatus that supports him as he stands. He stood for about 5 to 7 minutes. Then they put him in a chair. The PTs weren’t even out of the room until the speech therapist and OT were trying to get at him.
The OT comes around with sheets of multiple-choice responses that he can point to. She checks his awareness of time and place. One sheet has “2002, 1982, and 1996” on it. She asks him what year it is and waits for him to point. When she asked him his age, he didn’t point to “22”. Instead, he indicated that he was 23 years old. True to form, he regards the whole exercise as pretty much a waste of time. It’s hard to get him to understand the relevance of the task and cooperate.
The speech therapist worked on his swallowing. First, she felt his throat muscles as he swallowed the saliva in his mouth. Next, she put some blue food coloring in his mouth and had him swallow that. After a wee wait, she had the RN suction his trach to see if there were any traces of blue, indicating that the dye hadn’t completely gone into his stomach. He passed that test all right.
Next, came orange juice thickened to the consistency of honey. The speech therapist put blue food coloring into that too. She tried to give him a few spoonfuls, but he kept his teeth clamped tightly. Then Choy-Lang took over, coaxing him in Japanese. He took several spoonfuls that way, then grabbed the cup and tried to pour it down his throat. That got everybody’s attention very quickly. They want patients to do things slowly–one step at a time–so everything is controlled and they can get things back on track if they go astray. But that’s never been Karlton’s way. He wants to run before he learns to walk.
When no blue showed up in this trach this time, the nursing staff ordered up some pureed fruit. It took forever to get it to him (he’d been without feeding all night long, and it was already past noon), but eventually it came up. Again they put blue coloring into the food, and again Choy-Lang feed him. Once again, Karlton took things into his own hand. He grabbed the spoon and started shoveling the fruit into his mouth. Unfortunately, we had to take it away from him. It was just too dangerous for him to gobble it down like that.
During the 2:00 to 4:00p rest period, an Ear, Nose, & Throat specialist used a scope to reinsert a naso-gastric tube. Once the X-rays came back showing that it was inserted correctly into his stomach, they started him on liquid nutrients again. He must have been starved by that time.
Since he pulled out the naso-gastric tube once, the RNs wanted to restrict his hands. They tied his right hand up with cloths and tape. But he wriggled out of the mitt twice. Then they reverted to the “witches fingers”–the long strips of tape to 3 of his fingers so they can tie the ends of the strips to the bed rail. But during the evening, he managed to work his knee into the slack and pull hard enough to break the strips. In the end, they put a stiff wrap around his elbow. Without bending his arm, he can’t get at the naso-gastric tube. He had that on this morning when we returned to the ward.
His lungs continue to cause problems. The thinking right now is that he did get some food into his right lung. The PT was in early today to do some pounding on his lungs, hoping to work some phlegm loose enough for him to cough it up. It was reminiscent of his infancy in Germany when a physiotherapist did the same. It worked well then, but he’s really sore inside now from suctioning, coughing, and all kinds of poking and stabbing. He just wants to be left alone.
The miracle for today is that Karlton can talk! Not fully audibly, but nearly. The RN explained that he manages to get “a wee bit of” air past the trach and through the vocal chords. But just as with his writing, we’re having difficulty understanding what he means. I did understand when he said, “I’m going home,” and I assured him that we were eager to take him there.
To date, we see little movement on his left side. But we’re told that that is dependent on the swelling going down in the brain. It could take months for that to occur. So we remain hopeful.
So many cards and email wishes have come through. We’ve run into a few technological snags, but we read the messages to him every day. Jenn, Alec, and Alexa keep prodding us with strategies for stimulating him–like speaking to him in Spanish and showing him family photos. They’re a great team!
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