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| Mayo Clinic |
Stanley, Vanita and I embarked on our journey to Mayo Clinic
in Rochester, Minnesota with mixed emotions. We knew the outcome would probably
result in surgery to remove Vanita’s colon, but still there was the tiny hope
that some miracle drug or diet had been discovered in the premier hospital in
the nation for this chronic condition, ulcerative colitis, which my daughter
had been diagnosed with fourteen years ago. Mayo Clinic defines the disease as
“an inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) that causes long-lasting inflammation in
part of your digestive tract. Like
Crohn's disease, another common IBD, ulcerative colitis can be debilitating and
sometimes can lead to life-threatening complications.” She was getting close to the point of
“life-threatening complications,” and something had to be done.
The past
year had been the worst; a hospitalization last May, monthly IV treatments of a
drug with possible future bad side effects, steroids that made her feel
irritable and could damage her bones, and a handful of pills each day. She
tried everything the doctor told her to do, including avoiding various foods,
but nothing was working. Vanita’s health and quality of life was diminishing.
Her doctor told her it was time to consult with a surgeon. The surgeon informed her that while he felt
comfortable doing the surgery, he only did about two per year and would be glad
to refer her to Mayo Clinic if she wanted to go there. After some serious thought
and discussion, we all agreed Mayo was the place to go, and I wanted to go with
her. Fortunately, my son-in-law did not mind that I
tagged along for the ride.
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| The Top of Iowa Welcome Center and Rest Area |
On a warm Sunday morning, April 7, we headed north. We discovered all the best and a few of the
not so great bathrooms along the highway. The most interesting one was almost
in the upper edge of Iowa on Highway 35. It is called The Top of Iowa Welcome Center and Rest Area and resembles a big red
barn with a silo. A nice man who worked there gave me a Minnesota map and drew
the route to Mayo in Rochester.
We arrived at the Econo Lodge in Rochester. Our rooms were
clean and comfortable. We ate supper at the Whiskey Creek Wood Fire Grill, a
western-style restaurant close to our hotel.
Since she had an early appointment at 7:45, we turned in early.
Stan dropped us off at the door of the Goda Building in the
Mayo Clinic. These amazing glass sculptures dangled from the ceiling, and Vanita said, “That
looks like Chihuly,” and of course, the thirteen blue, green and gold huge
works of twisted interwoven glass art that made up a glowing chandelier were
designed by famed glassblower Dale Chihuly.
Pictures do not capture the enormity and beauty of the project. Mayo
incorporates art and music into medical treatment. My artist/art teacher Vanita appreciated the
many works of art as we walked the halls from appointments to medical tests,
and recognized the artist before we were close enough to read the names: Miro,
Warhol, and a huge statue by Rodin.
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| Chihuly's Glass Sculptures |
But we were there for answers not just the art show, so we
pressed on to see Dr. Faubion, a doctor with movie star looks who came highly
recommended for his expertise in the field.
His assistant reviewed Vanita’s medical history, and the progression of
her disease. We all became emotional as she described a typical day of pain,
urgency, running to the bathroom day and night (at least 12 times a day),
passing blood on a daily basis, feeling so drained that she just drug herself
to work and back home to crash on the couch.
Dr. Faubion reviewed the assistant’s information and
reaffirmed what her Columbia doctor said. There were no miracle cures at this
time, and probably not in the near future. He said they needed to ascertain for
sure that it was not Chrohn’s disease, which could not be cured by removing the
colon, and scheduled a battery of tests for that day. Dr. Faubion put it well when he said that
this would be a “surgical cure” for her disease. I held onto those words and
repeated them to myself as well as any of the family to whom I talked that day.
“Do you want us to schedule a surgery if
the tests are negative for Chrohn’s?” the assistant asked. We all nodded.
As we waited in between tests, Vanita and I walked down the
hall. She became short of breath easily, and we had to stop and rest
occasionally. In the hallway, a group of
people gathered around a gleaming black grand piano and sang songs from The Sound of Music. People of all ages,
sick and healthy, some in wheel chairs sang, raising joyful music to the high
ceilings. Then they sang an inspirational song that I remember was performed at my sister Janie's high school graduation. We were so moved by the music.
We could not help but notice two precious little girls with
their mothers; one wore a little pink hat and the other a pretty headband with
a bright flower. Their lack of hair only
accentuated their sweet round faces. Vanita became a little emotional and said,
“You know, sometimes I think it is harder on the mother than the child who is
sick. I remember when Lance was in the hospital….” I just pressed my lips firmly together,
partly to stop their trembling, but also because I agreed. I was the mother in this situation, and it
was not easy to watch my little girl go through this. The tests were
completed and Vanita had a consult appointment with a surgeon the next day at
3:30. We did not know the results of the tests yet.
The next morning, Logan, who was working four hours away in
South Dakota, said he was coming to be with his mama! It was already freezing
rain where he was, and it turned out they had a blizzard in the next few days
while he was with us. Vanita was feeling
better this morning. She received a phone call that she had a meeting with a
“stoma nurse” at 1:30. While we had not been told she was having surgery for
sure, that appointment was the first clue that she was. Logan arrived at 1:00; we were in the vehicle
ready to go, he jumped in, and we made her appointment right on time. The nurse
asked, “You are having surgery tomorrow?”
We kind of laughed nervously and said we had not met with the surgeon
yet. The nurse explained all about the equipment Vanita would be using for the
next six months after the ileostomy procedure. I was impressed by my daughter’s
strength, as she went through the step-by-step procedure. She had already
researched the procedure a great deal and was prepared for the outcome.
We met with the surgeon, Dr. Boostrum, a confident young
woman who explained they felt it would be best to do the procedure in three
steps. Step one would be to remove the colon and fashion the stoma. If you are
like me and do not know what that is, they actually bring the end of the small
intestine up through an opening in the side and sew it to the stomach, making a
“bud” through which waste is emitted into a bag. Step two would follow three months later and
fashion a j-pouch to take the place of her colon, and the final step is the
“take down” to reconnect everything and get rid of the external bag. The first surgery would be performed the next
day at the Rochester Methodist Hospital, which is part of the Mayo Clinic.
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| Logan did his best to keep us laughing! |
Logan took us out to Outback for supper. Vanita had no
restrictions on what she could eat, although she had not been able to eat more
than a few bites of food at a time for several weeks. We ordered the Bloomin’
Onion, and she and I shared a meal of shrimp and steak. Having Logan there helped all of our moods,
because we enjoyed visiting with him. He tried lobster for the first time, and
graciously shared it with us. Neither
Vanita nor I slept much at all that night. We were not worried, because we were
both confident it was the right thing to do, but we just could not relax enough
to sleep.
Check in time for surgery was at 8:45. Logan and I kissed
her and went to the waiting room, while Stan was able to stay with her a little
longer. They took her back to prepare for surgery at 10, but the surgery did
not begin until 1:00, and they finished at 4:30. She was in recovery from 5
o’clock until 7. Finally, we were able to see her. They had done a spinal in
addition to the other anesthesia, so she was not in much pain at that time. She
was just very tired. Stanley said he would stay, and Logan and I returned to
the hotel. I slept well that night, relieved that the surgery was over.
Amazingly, the day after the surgery, Vanita ate breakfast.
Logan and I explored the underground shops and the skywalks connecting Mayo to
shops and hotels in the area. The locals explained that the winters are so bad
that it is better to be inside.
The spinal wore off, and Vanita was in severe
pain in the evening. Since the surgeon
had warned us about the intestines wrapping around the stoma area after laparoscopic
surgery, we were concerned she might be headed back into surgery. The thought
made me light-headed, and I sat down. I remember Vanita saying, “Are you going
to pass out?” Logan fanned me until the
color came back to my face. I was embarrassed, because my job was to be strong
for her! A doctor on call came and looked at her and calmed our fears. The pain meds just did not keep the pain
down, even though they tried different combinations. I spent the night at the
hospital to let Stan rest.
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| Happy the surgery is over. |
The next morning the pain was better, but she was
nauseated. Dr. Boostrum and her entourage
of about six people came to check on Vanita. They said things like, “What a
beautiful stoma!” and “It is already working!” Vanita quipped that everyone
else at the hospital was much happier with the evidence it was working than she
was. As they were all admiring the doctor’s work, Vanita became emotional and
admitted it was a lot to take in. Later,
after another visit from the stoma nurse, I told Vanita that they needed an
advocate who had actually been through the experience to talk to her. That
afternoon, what Oprah would call a “God Moment” occurred. One of Dr. Boostrum’s
assistants, a young, attractive blonde woman, came back to Vanita’s room. She
sat on the bed and said, “I just want you to know that everything you are going
through now is worth it, and it will be alright. I know this because I had the
same procedure 12 years ago when I was 13 years old.” She confided that she
felt moved to come in and talk to Vanita after seeing she was so upset. Her
message was what we all needed to hear.
On Saturday, we were both hopeful and a little apprehensive
about going home. The doctor visited and said she could go. We packed up and
wheeled her outside in the cold morning air, anxious to go home. Logan said his
goodbyes and headed back to South Dakota. On the way home, Vanita said, “I feel like
I’ve had my guts ripped out……Oh, yeah, I have!”
Stan and I laughed, happy to be able to make light of a serious
operation. We left snowy Minnesota and returned to the green, green grass of
Missouri.
Vanita was touched by the generous acts of kindness by
family, friends, co-workers and the Atlanta church community, which included
prayers, cards, flowers, food, phone calls and text messages. While first week
and a half was the toughest physically, just two weeks later she was able to
attend Lance’s Prom Grand March. She
looked healthy and beautiful!
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| Before Surgery |
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| After Surgery - And she wondered why people kept telling her how good she looks! |
