Fluoroscopy

Mum looked so forlorn and so afraid when I left her. I patted her legs, and before the assistant covered her body with a blanket, I held her hand. Tightly, reassuringly, warmly, not letting go, even though her grip was so weak it was almost non-existent.

I didn't say anything, for the assistant was explaining the procedure and trying to calm mum down. I would have said: "Hang on there, I'll be right outside! I'm here with you." I can only hope the grip of my hand, and the smile I flashed her told her so much.

I could have missed her completely before she went into the fluoroscopy room. I was running an errand and went to the post office to mail mum's doctor's notes to my sister-in-law, just in case she or my brother would need it. When I returned to mum's room, the bed was gone, the room was empty. I was afraid of not being there before mum conducted the NJ tube insertion procedure. I imagined that mum would be frightened, for this is a resort she never did really warm up to, and I wanted to be by her side. The nurse who tends to her confirmed that mum had already gone down to have the tube inserted.

I ran down the stairs, 9 floors down to the second floor. Waiting for the lift, and most likely needing to stop on every floor, would have been excruciatingly long.

Is there such a thing as fate? Were things somehow destined to be, for is arcane knowledge and aimless wanderings around the hospital not so aimless and not so arcane after all? I had done some prior research online about how an NJ tube works and how it is inserted. I know from my browsings that a fluoroscopy (sort of xray) is needed to ensure that the long, long tubing is directed into the correct passage once it goes down the nostril. One wrong move, and it could go into the air duct, and down into the lungs, causing severe damage. And by pure coincidence, the other night as I took some time alone to walk around a bit after dinner, I wandered into the area of the hospital where fluoroscopy is conducted. Coincidence? Or meant to be?

Mum is inside now, hard to imagine that she and I are separates by a mere few metres. What anxieties is she feeling? What discomforts? What sense of loss of dignity and powerlessness as she watches with wide open eyes as a very invasive and long tube is inserted down her nose?
I cannot imagine her fears, I cannot imagine how she is feeling. I cannot imagine how I would be feeling. I cannot imagine how I could comfort her, reassure her afterwards, when I see her with a tube hanging out of her nostril, that things are still normal. I cannot know how she will feel, how I will feel. Such fears, such unknown fears, such crippling fears!

We had a hectic morning. The main Colonrectal surgeon came early, around sevenish, and I had a chance to ask him about mum's condition in more detail. He said he fears that the NJ tube may not be able to pass through the blockage, for the tumour may have completely blocked off the opening into the intestines. This may explain mum's severe, and increasingly severe, vomiting of stomach fluids, because there may simply be no way down.

Surgery is a possibility, but one the surgeon wants mum and the relatives to decide. He cannot and did not say we have to do it. He was honest and frank in the way he presented the facts and risks, like a true, moral doctor would. I know that the situation inside is not pleasant, that there are multiple growths in the intestines and colon even, from the images I've seen. But the doctor cannot say for sure how (bad?) the situation is until they go inside. It could be that the linings of the intestines are festering with cancerous cells, which will make healing after surgery very difficult, if not impossible. The surgery may not kill mum, even in her state of health, but the question is whether mum can survive the recovery and rehabilitation after surgery. Just the spinal surgery took her close to two months to recover (though, it is hard to tell, for in the mean time, she began CyberKnife and also began to vomit...).
How would an intestinal bypass affect her body and overall wellbeing, both physical and mental?

My aunts (mum's youngest sister and mum's first brother's wife) were outside the fluoroscopy room, and another aunt (mum's second brother's wife) and a friend of mum's have arrived since mum entered.

Five people all waiting, all hoping, all ready to rally around mum as soon as she exits from this very invasive procedure.

Around this brave heroine, who fights and struggles, who preserves and rarely flinches or cries, there is a group of loved ones and precious supporters who will be there till the end...