Fears and Retreads

In the past few weeks, I have returned to the joy of reading the local newspaper, a major source of information in my youth.

I have also sat and analysed the relationship between my father and myself, my mother and myself, and my father and my mother.

The last two sentences have given me pauses not associated with writing an app that makes Morse Code fun, exciting and optimally efficient as a modernised means of communicating.

But I digress.

No, take that back.

I regress.

I sit in front of the glowing, pixelated dots of energy one tends to call a computer monitor, although I’m not really monitoring the computer as much as I’m using its interface between myself and the wide world of webs we’ve developed as an extension of our natural need for nurturing.  [Is the computer monitoring me, then?]

That is (i.e.), for example (e.g.), ergo, ipso facto, our permanent pacifiers (as opposed to Pacific pacifists) we’ve adopted as our own.

Computers of the desktop or laptop kind.

Mobile phones.

Tablet PCs/phones.

The 21st Century version of the security blanket.

WAAAAAAAHHH!!!  Mommy, I can’t update my social media status!!!!

Who would’ve thunk it when we were two-year olds shouting, “No! No! No!,” that our two-year olds would be wailing for their touchscreen devices instead of plastic nipples to stick in their mouths?

Indeed.

My father values a toboggan like I value writing blog entries.

My mother hovers over my father like a nervous first-time parent.

Together, the last two sentences tell me a lot about myself and my only sibling, a younger sister.

I want to call 9-1-1 and make up some crazy tall tale in order to get my entry in the local newspaper column, the Police Blotter (which, of course, many local kids are calling the Po’ Sleaze Blighter), our own version of News of the Weird, which means we don’t have to syndicate the one which its author, Chuck Shepherd, has apparently grown tired of writing.

Well, well, well…time to go be nice to people in my hometown.

Laughter in Medicine

My father has always been a serious fellow around me but he has had his funny moments, too.

When I was in secondary school, my father chaperoned many an event, earning himself the nickname “Cool Dad.”

So, while I mentally compose funny bone ticklers to flesh out here in later blog entries, today’s info-stuffed minimal verbosity includes two links for those seeking silly respites despite serious riffs on ALS-related syndromes/diseases:

Repost of the day with word of the day: atelectasis (Gesundheit!)

As I continue the walk, with family and friends, down the path of my father’s health changes, here’s a repost of information pertinent to the issues we face:

Normal chest radiograph in terminal respiratory failure due to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

To the Editor: We report the case of a patient with terminal respiratory failure due to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) who had a normal chest radiograph (CXR) 13 hours before respiratory arrest and death. This case shows that a normal CXR in the setting of severe neuromuscular disease cannot be used as evidence of even short term respiratory stability.

A 48-year-old man with end-stage ALS presented with respiratory insufficiency and weight loss. Five months before his admission, he lost the ability to ambulate without assistance and he developed progressive difficulty speaking and swallowing. He subsequently lost 50 pounds and became essentially bed bound.

His height was 73 inches and his weight was 120 pounds. His respiratory rate was 18 breaths per minute and breathing was mildly labored. Oxygen saturation by digital pulse oximetry was 97% while the patient was breathing ambient air. His speech was barely audible. His cough was weak and he was tetraparetic.

A bedside frontal chest radiograph demonstrated normal lung volumes and no cardiopulmonary abnormalities. Vital capacity measured at the bedside was 400 mL. On hospital Day 1, the patient’s breathing became increasingly labored. He was placed on bi-level positive airway pressure ventilation, but his respiratory status deteriorated progressively. He developed obtundation and arrested. Per his directive, he was not resuscitated. He was pronounced dead as a result of respiratory failure 13 hours after a normal CXR.

Patients with ALS commonly die from pulmonary complications. (1) Common respiratory sequelae include atelectasis, pneumonia, copious secretions, aspiration, and obstructive sleep apnea. Chest radiographic abnormalities are frequent in end-stage ALS. Atelectasis is seen early in respiratory failure and often persists despite assisted ventilation. (2) Conversely, clinicians may be erroneously reassured by a normal CXR. To our knowledge, no study has correlated radiographic findings with the degree of respiratory muscle weakness or with the incidence of respiratory failure in ALS.

In conclusion, clinicians should not be reassured by normal chest radiographic findings when assessing a patient with ALS for possible respiratory insufficiency. Clinicians must assess other clinical indicators, including pulmonary function, symptoms and signs of respiratory insufficiency, as well as imaging studies when trying to diagnose and/or predict respiratory failure in patients with ALS. (3,4)

Christine Won, MD

Dipanjan Banerjee, MD

VA Palo Alto Health Care System and Stanford University

Palo Alto, CA

Paul Stark, MD

VA San Diego Health Care System and University of California

San Diego, CA

Ware G. Kuschner, MD

VA Palo Alto Health Care System and Stanford University

Palo Alto, CA

References

1. Lechtzin N, Rothstein J, Clawson L, et al. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis: evaluation and treatment of respiratory impairment. Amyotroph Lateral Scler Other Motor Neuron Disord 2002;3:5-13.

2. Schmidt-Nowara WW, Altman AR, Atelectasis and neuromuscular respiratory failure. Chest 1984;85:792-795.

3. Rabinstein AA. Wijdicks EF. Warning signs of imminent respiratory failure in neurological patients. Semin Neurol 2003;23:97-104.

4. Similowski T, Attali V, Bensimon G, et al. Diaphragmatic dysfunction and dyspnoea in amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Eur Respir J 2000;15:332-337.

Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all.
--Sam Ewing
COPYRIGHT 2006 Southern Medical Association
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2006, Gale Group. All rights reserved. Gale Group is a Thomson Corporation Company.

A friend recommended…

A newfound friend some of you are familiar with, Claire Lynch, challenged me to write an app that would make communicating by Morse Code faster than texting.

Claire, I never imagined you’d influence my dreams.

I woke up from a night of coding in my subconscious — experimenting with the length of time that designates a pause and when it’s a pause, exactly what kind (space between words, space between sentences, etc.), as well as the definition of dots and dashes when one is “clicking” a touchscreen device like a mobile phone or tablet PC.

Of course, I haven’t got out to any Android or Apple app store to see if the app in question already exists.  Create mine first and let the competition wait with bated breath.

Lost in Allemagne

Whatever it may be, it is what it is.  I no longer have a mind, or semilogical thought set.

Where is the guy who can spin off cantankerous cacophonies of kaka like it’s nobody’s business?

A new list of names to add to the list of names of people to thank for being people.

Can I be too tired right now to name them?

Where is the amateur professional amateur when I need him to stand in my stead and mount the steed like an Android tablet that suddenly displays a need to find the mount drive named something like /mnt/, which amounts to mountains of rubble and gibberish rubbish to the noncomputersavvy.  Savvy?

Of course not.

My father is dying, dying, dying and I’m past the point of pain, pretending to pretend my father is there in some form of his old capacity while pretending in pretense, past tense, tension (the hyper kind), that he’s like a newborn child all over again, like adopting an autistic child with no clue which clues to the child’s nonclues indicates the child’s needs without pretending.

Is my father clueless or stubborn?  Is he ignoring or is he tired?

He never liked dwelling on discussions about his health, his PRIVATE health, with strangers.

But he loved talking.

Now he grunts, coughing out sounds we interpret as “yes” or “no” to the best of our ability until he indicates we were wrong.

He is weak, getting weaker, never the weakest this week.  Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.

To have these moments with him in his time of indiscernable thought patterns.

To read much, little or nothing in his eyes, from when he chooses to look back with a blank stare.

Not even a smile.

Is it worth writing about the shriveled hands, the sunken cheeks and hollowed-out eye sockets?

When the family chooses to put in the feeding tube, the PEG line, these are the consequences we get to face.

It is up to me to serve as a warning to the rest of you — resist the temptation.

I don’t want the last memories of my father to be these moments of diminished capacity, well beyond the twilight zone of believability.

I believe I have no choice.

Suffer the insufferable.

Go with the flow.  It’s all relative — many have suffered worst fates with friends and family.

And yet, not so.

Time to revise my living will — there will be no PEG line for me, no stretching my life into wide-eyed stares with no productive, contributory communication to give back.

Let me die in strength.

Let me fight the good fight while I have the capacity to say no.

While I have the fingers to type or, at the very least, the ability to dictate via brain probes.

Something…anything but this.

I am beyond crying.

I am tired of being tired of being tired.

If my thoughts aren’t worth reading, plop me in a wheelchair and push me into the woods.

That’s the joy of having no children.

Let me feed wildlife with my set of states of energy in entropic flux.

Where labels have no meaning to an ecosystem designed to eat the weak and the dying in an effort to convert energy into the ebb and flow of species sets of states of energy in regenerative reproductive mode.

Auf wiedersehen, Vati!

More People to Thank…

Thanks to Judy, Robin, Shawn, Amy, Lisa W, Marla, Carol, Ethan, Heather, Courtney (did I already thank Jeff Gulley and Andy of Ambulance Service of Bristol?); Food City, Marie; Miss Bea’s; Pal’s; Amis Mill Eatery, Tanima; El Paraiso, Lucy; Big Lots, Juanita, Lana, Tori; Advance Auto, Aryonna; Healing Grounds coffee shop, Brandy (barista); Zoomerz 69; Cupboard/BP; VA/CLC, Heidi; Col. Heights Presbyterian church staff and parishioners, neighbours providing food/emotional support; MassMutual, Christine; more to follow…