S-4

I spent a good part of yesterday with Della, reading aloud to her from Reader's Digest bad jokes and several "unsolved mysteries" from a Life Magazine special issue. For the most part Della was still feeling very uncomfortable - her abdomen felt like stone, and she was very tired. Five doctors associated with Dr. Lee's team came to see her around 5 PM. They assured her that she would feel better "tomorrow" (Friday). She was able to sit up for a few minutes and was able with help to use the bathroom. And she was allowed to swallow 1 fluid ounce of water every hour until she was told by the doctors last night to stop. Apparently that is complicating the problem with the abdomen. She has a room with a lovely view - getting to Montefiore and parking there is considerably easier than going across the street to Presby. The gift shops and small cafeteria are more to my liking than the ones at Presby. All in all, a small bit of progress. She is very happy to be out of Trauma ICU. So am I. One of Della's close friends told me that if I keeping reading bad jokes I will drive her out of the hospital.

Today I may get to see her for only an hour or so. Diocesan Convention begins this evening, and I have to interview a possible replacement for our secretary this morning at 10. Back to the grind. I expect to get back home this evening around 11 - then up at 5:30 AM and off to Sewickley at 6:00 to register for Convention which begins at 8:00. It will continue until 3 or thereabouts, then to the church for the 5:30 Saturday Eucharist, and then home.  I'll see Della again after the 9:30 service on Sunday. She wants me to tell all of those who have kept her in their prayers and written notes that she loves you. You mean a great deal to her.

S-3

Della spent her second day in the Trauma ICU recuperating from her first. She was alert when she wasn't dozing (the anti-pain medication and the nerve blocks were working well yesterday). She sleep during much of the nine hours I was there, though we did work together on the USA Today Crossword puzzle which we were able to complete in little less than an hour. Archbishop Duncan came by at around 3. He and Della engaged in a relatively lively conversation about archbishops, bishops, and popes before His Grace gave her his archiepiscopal blessing and left for a meeting with other important folk. Fr. Paul Sutcliffe also stopped by. Just before 6 PM, the nurses got Della out of bed and into a chair - she was supposed to remain there for an hour at least.

When I left, she had still not seen her surgeon. What we did find out from a nurse's speculations (and this may be wishful thinking), is that the spleen was probably not removed, and that only the distal section of the pancreas was taken out. This is fairly sophisticated surgery even for laparoscopic procedures. Type "distal pancreas" in Google and you'll learn what I mean. http://www.surgery.usc.edu/divisions/tumor/pancreasdiseases/web%20pages/pancreas%20resection/distal%20pancreatectomy.html

The nurse said the size of the incisions on Della's abdomen suggests there was no removal of the spleen, and that she had "heard" that Dr. Lee removed only the distal portion of the pancreas. Several of Lee's team have come to check on Della's pain, but volunteered no further information even when we asked them. When I left last night, Della was resting comfortably.

This morning, UPMC Presby called and notified me that Della was being moved to Montefiore (part of the UPMC complex) - the buildings are connected by a beautiful bridge. So when I leave here in a few minutes, I will head to Montefiore. I hope I don't have the hassle I had yesterday in finding a parking place.

UPDATE ON THE UPDATE: Della just called. She did see Dr. Lee last night. He told her they did not remove the spleen and that he had taken out the distal section of the pancreas. They are now waiting to see whether the pancreas will resume functioning in several days. As for whether the cells were malignant, the lab tests won't be complete until Tuesday or Wednesday. Della's room in 1067 N UPMC Montefiore.

S-Day 2

The surgery ended at approximately 2:30 PM. Della went to the recovery room for about an hour or so and at 3:25, I was informed that she had been moved to the Surgical ICU. Paul Sutcliffe, a priest and friend, had stopped by about an hour before, so he and I went to the ICU. Della was still floating in and out of consciousness, but she recognized Paul and said some words to him. After he left (around 4 PM), Della began to experience a great deal of discomfort, nausea, and pain in the area of her abdomen. The nausea was particularly distressing since there was nothing in her stomach. Several of the ICU nurses set her up with one of the pain medication pumps, gave her anti-nausea medication, and propped her back up with something which enabled her to lie slightly on her side. The discomfort eased, Della was able to relax a little. Around 5:20, she dozed off and slept. I left the hospital shortly after 6. I will be there this morning around 10.

At this point, neither Della nor I have any idea what was done during the surgery or what we should be planning for. Della may be in ICU for several days - after that, we don't know. Dr. Lee did not meet with me after the surgery, nor was I contacted by any of his team. I hope I can find out more. In the meantime, I hope Della got some rest last night. She cannot have have any nourishment, except that provided by the IV. Last night she pleaded for some moisture for her lips and tongue, and one nurse resisted while another immediately went for some cold water and a swab, which she used to daub Della's mouth.

Yesterday morning, I attended the Catholic Mass at the Montefiore Chapel. The Scripture readings were consoling, and it meant a great deal just to be able to pray for Della while she was undergoing the surgery. Lunch at the Presbyterian Cafeteria, a Tuscan salad, was adequate, but nothing worth blogging about. Bob Lytle, Sr., the deacon at my church, stopped by for several hours, but had to leave before the surgery was completed.

Yesterday, in the PreOp area, several Hasidic Jewish men, clothed in black hats, suits and overcoats, with heavy beards and the dreadlocks, were gathered around someone, praying. Later that morning, I saw them in the Montefiore lobby, seated at a table and saying their noonday prayers.

S-Day

Around 4 this morning I drove Della to UPMC Presby for her surgery. From our entrance into the hospital to her being taken to the OR, everything was done with clinical precision and efficiency. The surgical center has planned for every contingency: from lockers for families to parking vouchers to directions to various shops and eating places in the hospital complex to the ritual which surrounds the patient from the time she enters the pre-op area until the completion of her time in the recovery area. We entered pre-op at around 5:45 - a nurse came to take Della's medical history and ask her questions about medications taken or not taken in the past week. (This routine with the same questions was repreated by the nurse anesthetist, the physician anesthetists, and the nurse who came in to prepare Della's IV.) After the initial interrogation, Della changed into her hospital garb, packed her belongings in the bag she brought with her (this was promptly whisked away and put in a locker to accompany her to the ICU after surgery), put on her hospital socks and hair net. We had some time for talking with one another. At 6:15, began a steady stream of medical personnel: nurses and anesthetists to install a catheter for a nerve block. They gave a long detailed explanation to Della of what they would be using to "put her under". and asked me to leave for a "few minutes". The young resident anesthetist assured me that I would be able to see her before they took her to the OR to "say your goodbyes" - about as unfelicitous a use of words Della and I could have heard given the circumstances. He's young - someday he'll learn. I should mention that the senior anesthetist actually came to me while I was waiting and asked me how I was doing. I told him I was ok - I wasn't so sure about Della. But when I finally did get to spend about five minutes with her, she said she was feeling "relaxed but a little anxious" too. When they first took her blood pressure, it was a bit high. By the time they took her to the OR it had dropped back to her usual healthy level.

So now I wait. It's 10:30 AM, and I am typing this at the Family Lounge computer. No word yet. On the big scoreboard next to her number are the words: Still In Surgery.

A word about breakfast at the UPMC cafeteria. There was a time 17 years ago during my CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) at Children's when eating at the Children's or Preby cafeterias was a treat. The quality has declined substantially. This morning I had the "special" - the eggs were fresh is about all I can say about it.

In the meantime, I have been reading a chapter in the book I use for my Sunday morning education class, and sitting at the computer.

Love you, honey.

The Past Week

This past Tuesday Della and I were asked to appear at the preliminary hearing for the man who had stabbed Doug. The  police sergeant who called told us we might have to testify during the hearing. This surprised us since neither of us had actually witnessed the stabbing, but the sergeant thought we might have something to add to the proceedings. So Wednesday, the 30th of September, at 1 PM we appeared at the West Deer District Court. I've had business with the court before, so I was not surprised at the crowd in the corridor/waiting room. It is one of the sleaziest court buildings of any sort that I have been it. The floors are dirty, the walls need painting, the rest room (unisex) is indescribable. Lawyers are milling around with their clients and clients' families. They tended to be short, with pinstripe suits and shiny hair, and most appeared to be chewing gum or breath mints. They carried attache cases and grasped sheets of paper in in finely manicured hands. Their clients dressed in jeans and work clothes. One woman had black nail polish, black clothes, tattoos, piercings and black boots. Quite a few people in the waiting rooms had tattoos they made no attempt to conceal.  

Della and I stood for nearly twenty minutes in the corridor before the police sergeant brought us to a "room" adjacent to the courtroom. There were chairs for us to sit on - right next to Doug and his wife Leanne. Doug had gone through a fairly extensive surgery, but was discharged from the hospital two days after the stabbing. He seemed in good spirits. He told us that he might lose permanently the use of his right hand - the muscle and tendons in the arm were cut so badly. He was worried that the stabber's attorney might claim that the man stabbed Doug in self-defense. Apparently, Doug had placed his hand on the man's truck door. The four of us talked about the day's events and speculated what we might have to do in the courtroom. Obviously, Doug would have to testify.

The sergeant had informed us we were last on the court docket, and it was two hours before we were called to the courtroom. The district court's courtroom is small, and very crowded. There is really no place for spectators. Witnesses, district attorneys and defense attorneys, complainants, defendants, witnesses, constables, and court reporters fill the room. The judge, a woman who recently won reelection, sat on the bench. Her hair sprang from her head like spiky fronds. The bench where she sat was raised about three inches above the other tables and chairs in the court room. Once she got through the preliminary organizational matters with the attorneys, the judge asked the district attorney who Della and I were. He said we were witnesses. She told us to stand, swore us in, and then asked us to return to the waiting room. We might be called, she said. We waited about twenty minutes before Doug and his wife came out. He took the two of us aside and told us that the stabber was going to stand trial: he pleaded not guilty to the serious felony charges against him. No trial date was set and apparently, bail was granted. The defendant would most likely be on the streets again in one or two days. One of the policemen told us he expected the man to jump bail and head back to California where he came from. He has a lengthy "rap sheet", including a fairly substantial amount of time served for a manslaughter conviction.

Doug has a long period of physical rehab facing him. His wife seems very supportive - she is a registered nurse who has worked at Passavant Hospital in the North Hills of Pittsburgh for the past twenty years. The trial may take place nine or ten months from now. We left the courthouse about 3:45 and retired to Edwards' Ice Cream for well-deserved treats.

Tom

In the past several days, we have heard that Tom is still alive and continuing to live in the Flagstaff area. I am grateful to Anne and Tommy Crawford for passing on the e-mails between Martine Lepany and and the Sheriff's Office and the US Forest Service. Tom will not talk about his family, nor will he talk about his past, according to Jon Nelson of the Forest Service.

I am especially thankful to Martine, Justin and Irene for their persistence in trying to locate and establish contact with Tom. Merci, merci beaucoup. Perhaps some day . . .

Violence - In West Deer Township?

This past Thursday morning, Della and I went to Kress Tire on Route 910 about two miles from the house to have a new set of tires put on her Taurus. I've used Kress for the past seven years to have flats repaired and new tires installed. The person who has often been around to help me is a man named Doug, a tall, fairly mild-mannered middle-aged man.  We usually talk about sports, children and grandchildren and railroads. On the walls of the office and waiting area hang pictures of classic locomotives and the latest Union Pacific calendar. These days the calendar is small and features black and white photos. (I remember when Dad brought the Union Pacific calendar home every year - it had magnificent photos of the American West, usually resort areas that the Union Pacific carried passengers to - the calendar today is a pale shadow of what it once was.)

Thursday morning, Della and I were sitting in the waiting room. It was a fairly pleasant morning - actually partly sunny and relatively dry. Doug was at his usual place in the room when a short man with a pretty dramatic partial goatee and wearing a cap (similar to an imam's head covering) opened the door from the outside and began talking to another man in the waiting room. He then told Doug that he was mad at Kress Tire because they charged his dad $30.00 to fix a flat tire. Doug said he'd never charged anyone $30.00 to fix a flat (I've had at least 10 flats and leaky tires taken care of at Kress and was never charged more that $19.00). The man insisted that Kress had overcharged his father and he was pretty pissed about it. In fact, he was "[f-bomb] mad". Doug again denied he had ever done that and that it was Kress' policy not to charge that much. (While all of this was going on, I was reading the sports page of the Tribune-Review and Della was working on a crossroad puzzle.) The man turned and left but not before he repeated that he was still "[f-bomb] mad". Doug got up and followed the man outside. He said, "Hey, wait a minute. You owe the lady an apology." There was a short pause and suddenly we heard a man screaming "I've been stabbed".

The three of us in the waiting room ran outside. Doug was on his back on the ground, blood was everywhere. He was clutching his arm, but the way he was holding it led me to think he had been stabbed in the abdomen or the groin. Others arrived, one started to make a tourniquet, another called 911, another actually flagged down a police car on 910. Some others tried to stop the stabber, but he was in a small pickup and sped out of the parking lot onto the highway. Five minutes later the ambulance arrived and I got a good glimpse of the wound: the man had cut through the muscle of the lower arm, almost to the bone. As I said, blood was everywhere. It had spattered on Doug's face and his glasses. The EMTs were trying to keep Doug from going into shock. By this time, four more policemen arrived in four separate cars. Once Doug had been taken to the hospital, the police began to take statements from all of us. This happened between 11:30 and 11:45. By 12:15 Della and I were writing a description of what we had witnessed to submit to the police. Then we stood around another 15 minutes talking to the others there. We finally got around to paying for the tires and left.

We have subsequently learned that Doug will most likely not be able to use his right hand. The damage to the tendons and muscle was so severe it apparently cannot be repaired. I heard third-hand that the man had recently been released from prison for murdering another man. Who knows? The man he spoke to in the waiting room knew him, and described him as "crazy". Some of the Kress workers copied down the license number of the man's truck. He stabbed Doug with a "razor knife". The stabber was apprehended later that afternoon.A young policeman (he couldn't have been more than 22 or 23) kept telling us that "this doesn't happen" in West Deer. He either didn't know or didn't want us to know that five years ago a man stabbed his wife to death in West Deer and tried to hide the body. He was arrested and is spending the rest of his life in one of PA's penal institutions.

Needless to say, Della and I were pretty upset about this. Prior to this the most violent thing I ever witnessed was a NYC demolition derby involving a taxi and several other vehicles near St. Patrick's Cathedral in the early 60s.