Swallow Follow Up
It appears Mom's body healed itself. This was possibly due to finally having sufficient rest for her throat muscles, or due to some undetectable neurologic progress, or due to some combination of the two.
When Mom broke her hip, on May 28, all therapy designed to improve her swallowing stopped, and remained stopped right up to her second Barium swallow test, on approximately June 4. That swallow test revealed her to be swallowing everything perfectly. The doctor reading it said
"I don't know who had a bug up their behind about her swallowing, but she is fine."
Yet Mom had not been fine in her previous swallow tests. In addition, one speech therapist after another, upon examining Mom, had cluck clucked about her apparent swallowing problems, and about the likelihood of aspiration. In the one or two days before the second Barium swallow test, Mom's voice volume suddenly increased a good bit. I suspect this was an indication that the strength of her throat muscles had imperceptibly taken a step forward.
This is a micro example of the unknowableness, and the unpredictability, of Mom's recovery. Every brain patient recovers at their own rate. It's possible that different parts of the brain, and even different tiny bits of the brain, recover somewhat independently from each other. If neuro-surgeons understand it, they refuse to admit so. They refuse to predict the speed, or the eventual degree, of any recovery.
As a family member, or as a friend, we are left in a state of "not knowing." This is so frustrating. As humans, we want to know. We really, really want to know. Yet we are denied. Personally, I at least want to know odds of various recovery scenarios. I really, really want to know. Yet I am denied.
The only peace I can find is to look upon "not knowing" as a sign of God's all-knowingness, and as a reminder of my place in His universe. God knows and understands far beyond my capabilities. I can only look upon His creations with wonder. I can only look upon the human brain, and upon the body's ability to heal itself, with wonder. Some things cannot be understood. They are wonders.
When Mom broke her hip, on May 28, all therapy designed to improve her swallowing stopped, and remained stopped right up to her second Barium swallow test, on approximately June 4. That swallow test revealed her to be swallowing everything perfectly. The doctor reading it said
"I don't know who had a bug up their behind about her swallowing, but she is fine."
Yet Mom had not been fine in her previous swallow tests. In addition, one speech therapist after another, upon examining Mom, had cluck clucked about her apparent swallowing problems, and about the likelihood of aspiration. In the one or two days before the second Barium swallow test, Mom's voice volume suddenly increased a good bit. I suspect this was an indication that the strength of her throat muscles had imperceptibly taken a step forward.
This is a micro example of the unknowableness, and the unpredictability, of Mom's recovery. Every brain patient recovers at their own rate. It's possible that different parts of the brain, and even different tiny bits of the brain, recover somewhat independently from each other. If neuro-surgeons understand it, they refuse to admit so. They refuse to predict the speed, or the eventual degree, of any recovery.
As a family member, or as a friend, we are left in a state of "not knowing." This is so frustrating. As humans, we want to know. We really, really want to know. Yet we are denied. Personally, I at least want to know odds of various recovery scenarios. I really, really want to know. Yet I am denied.
The only peace I can find is to look upon "not knowing" as a sign of God's all-knowingness, and as a reminder of my place in His universe. God knows and understands far beyond my capabilities. I can only look upon His creations with wonder. I can only look upon the human brain, and upon the body's ability to heal itself, with wonder. Some things cannot be understood. They are wonders.
posted by gcotharn at 2:03 PM
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