August 24, 2017
Firstly, I want to apologize (maybe that’s the wrong word here, but best I can come up with on minimal sleep); I so wanted to be at the Mission on the Bay fundraiser yesterday, and Abby really, really, wanted me to go. What you all didn’t know, was that Abby was having surgery at MGH Boston while the event was happening. She went into ICU there on Sunday, which I promise to explain later in this post, and we’ve had a couple of scary, rough days. I honestly did not want the event to have a pall cast over it by delivering this sobering news when everyone was gathered for an event inspired to help, share, care, laugh a little (hopefully), mingle, and relax a bit. I can’t say thank you enough to everyone involved; Mission on the Bay who has been unworldly generous to us; Marlene Conroy, Terri Jill, Julie Rainer Cummings, the WIN committee, Lynn Chamber of Commerce (and Leslie Gould) and forgive me, as I know there were so many people involved that helped and donated that I can’t remember and don’t have space here for. I’m sure I’m forgetting people in words, but not in my heart. Thank you everyone, we are so fortunate in so many ways even as this sh*t swirls around us. Now, please let me fill you in on the what where and why. I've started 3 posts in the last 3 days- posts submitted: zero. So much has happened that every time I was about to pick up where I left off the post was already outdated and irrelevant. Stale newspaper - wrap your fish in it. So here I go again, deep deep breathe, long exhale, might as well start from the Top 'o the Mornin to ‘Ya (great House of Pain song btw).
Sunday Bloody Sunday. I hope you don't find that tasteless as I recount what happened at home yesterday, but there is just no other way for me to begin this.
After a fairly fitful night sleep for both of us, Abby Trotter Grant woke up around 8am Sunday, pretty chipper and in good spirits; it was really nice to see her smile and seem herself. At about 11am, I was in my office which is next to our bedroom and she began ringing "the bell", which I had given her when we first got home so I could hear it from anywhere in the house in an emergency. It was used a bit too often in the beginning, probably because every situation strange, uncomfortable, or what-have-you precipitated it's ringing (and yes, it got annoying). But it's use had been greatly diminished to the point where I hadn't heard it in well over a week, if not more. So when I did hear it, I raced into the bedroom to see Abby sitting there, with a lot of blood in and around her mouth, and her trach tube.
"***Disturbing Grossness Alert***" I kid you not- if you are eating, or squeamish in any way, please skip this part (really and truly- you've been warned as this is hard for me to even relay).
I froze and stared for the briefest of moments then said "we need to go to the emergency room" and Abby nodded her head. The blood then began to pour out of her mouth, faucet-like. And then from her trach tube. It would slow then, and as my mind was telling my hand to dial 911, it would start again; puddles of blood pooling in her lap, on our bed, in her hands, onto my hands trying to catch it (why did I do that?). “Calling 911” I said, fairly calmly. We actually were both fairly calm- I can’t for the life of me explain how, or why. The blood continued to pour out along with what looked like tissue, maybe blood clots too; I was on hold with 911, being transferred around a bit so they could get me to the right place; I started throwing some of her clothes into a bag that I kept handy; using a towel now to help with the blood while I held the phone between my chin and shoulder; trying all-the-while to make sure Abby was still alert and with me- she was- and hoping the bleeding was stopping- it wasn’t. What I’ve noticed during moments of crisis: time freezes a bit. Slo-mo style. I (think I) quickly ran downstairs to open the door for whoever showed up first; corralled the dogs and got them outside before the impending fracas; ran back upstairs because I didn’t want Abby to be alone; opened Aliza’s door to confirm that indeed she was fortunately at work already; gathered Abby’s phone, her bag/purse and listened as the sirens got closer then heard Swampscott Fire and Swampscott Police (thank you thank you) and the EMTs (thank you thank you) all urgently but calmly coming up the stairs. Then lots of questions, lots of action, lots of people, equipment, jostling, talk and medical chatter about how much blood they thought she had lost. Did I hear 2 pints, then 3 pints, though I think they were then talking in milliliters? Whatever it was, it was a lot.
I wanted them to take her to Boston, but the EMT rightly said that he thought she had lost too much blood, and we should go to Salem/NSMC (I will now leave many details out here, so to condense this and move it along). I followed in our car, walked/half-jogged into the ER entrance, and asked for her. No record yet- they thought maybe I had beaten the ambulance. No way I thought, unless they had to stop, which would be bad. Stop thinking like that Craig- they are here, and you should know by now that there is considerable lag between when the ambulance arrives and the ER desk gets a patient’s info. Sure enough, her name popped up on the screen, and I was asked to have a seat in the waiting room. Anxious anxious anxious waiting. Looking around at the other people in the ER room. They did not look anxious. A toe injury there. Unknown injury over there. Family waiting, laughing a bit, so nothing serious over there. Was glad for them all, really.
After about 15 minutes, “Mr. Grant” someone yelled, walking into the area with my visitor badge. “Yup- here” I answered, like I was in a classroom- pavlovian response I guess. They brought me back to Abby- she looked pale, a bit bloodied like she had gone a couple of rounds with someone, but generally considering, ok. Again, condensing condensing here: many doctors, several theories, CT scans; crux of it was it was beyond their scope there, and as soon as she was able to, we needed to go the MGH Boston. Aaaaaahehhhmen. Sitting in the front of the ambulance, sirens on (first time I got to ride to someplace “hot”), we made it to MGH in about 20-25 mins. The rest of the traffic, I would say conservatively, made it to Boston in an hour and a half. WTF was going on- the traffic was sooo bad for a Sunday at noon. But we got there expressly, checked in and then I waited again in a new waiting area, for them to settle her into an ER room. Condensing condensing again here. What they think that happened: the tumor looked like it had shrunk and parts of it were dying and sloughing off. So she may have actually coughed some of it up. Sounded good kind of, except that tumors feed by attaching/attracting blood vessels to feed it, so when it denigrates it can pull away blood vessels or worse, creating a dangerous situation. A dangerous situation was what we had here, we learned. Condensing condensing… more docs conferring over CT scans, some more somber news that they could only monitor things for now and that there could be a major artery involved (bad, very bad). Some tears and fear from Abby- I just somehow choked mine back and kept telling her positive things. Now out of ER and in ICU, playing the waiting game. More docs, more talks. Then a spot of good news- intervention radiology thinks they can go in through her groin (yes) area into arteries from there, and essentially use dye to find the blood leaks and potentially cap them in one of three ways. Condensing here again: so, a three-hour surgery later- yes while many of you were at Mission on the Bay with our kids, Ben Grant and Aliza Grant, Marge Hancock (Abby’s mom) Matt Iron (Abby’s bro) they brought us good news- they were able to cap 3 of the 4 vessels that were bleeding, leaving one attached to the tumor so it didn’t die, which would be bad, because it could decompose in her body. Very bad folks. My medical knowledge is expanding, just not quite fast enough to keep up.
So here we are, back to the start. Ending here, so I can get back into MGH with the kids. Will try and keep you all updated. We are remaining strong, exhausted, weary, teary, but strong. I hope you understand why we didn’t share this last night. So today is a new day- and hopefully there will be positive things today. What you all have done for us is nothing short of amazing and I know I said this before, but what you do and say helps keep me/us moving/plodding(?) forward, and we really, really, couldn’t do this without you all. And though I’m not a gamer or gambler, I really really hope one of you wins the Powerball, though you all deserve to.
Much love- The Grants
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