Today in a nutshell

I'm not really into smooth transitions, so bear with...

The physical therapists came in today and sat Trevor on the side of the bed. He couldn't even hold up his own head. It was as if they were trying to sit an infant up for the first time but having to support him completely.

The doctors are trying to raise the level of his CSF (cerebral spinal fluid) drain in order to get him to manage it on his own without raising his ICP (inter-cranial pressure). They raised it from 10 to 15 and were going to monitor him to see if he became less alert or more tired. After doing so, he no longer responded to commands and was definitely more tired. They lowered it back down to 10. Ah, crack!

Paraphrasing my mom: Doctors also informed us that Trevor has a pool of CSF on his left frontal lobe, which can only be fixed by capping his head with a different type of synthetic bone flap. If the CSF doesn't dissolve, something else will have to be done.

He got a nasal trumpet because he's super phlegmy. His left arm was tied down so he kept lifting his right arm up as far as he could to try to fix it, getting tired, falling asleep, waking up and repeating. I'm no physical therapist but I think this might be an excellent technique to get that right arm strong and moving again.

Megan and my new favorite hobby: guessing what medical terms mean. PROM= ponies ride on moonbeams. Will need helmet= will need helmet. ETT= extra terrestrial Trevor. L Radial= his nurse sucks. No, I'm not talking smack, she literally sucks. She violently suctioned about 8 gallons of phlegm out of his nose. PLETH= prolly let 'em touch (and play with) hazardous (materials). H2O= hard to obtain (get). ICL= ice cream latte. There's a good chance the combination of fluorescent hospital lighting and lack of sleep is making me delirious...

It's funny to me how the doctors yell at Trevor because they think his hearing is the problem. It's kind of like when you're trying to talk to someone who doesn't speak English very well and you end up screaming at them. They aren't deaf. Isn't it a commonly known fact that TBI patients have increased sensitivity to their senses? Plus, he just had brain surgery and is only on Tylenol for pain. Can you say headache?

Not to rip on the wonderful staff here at the University Hospital, who I appreciate exponentially, but I just pressed the nurse call button and watched the nurse pick her nose for a good 2 minutes before responding. God forbid there be an actual emergency!

You know how when you've just taught your dog or baby a new trick and are trying to show them off to people, and they never actually do it? Yeah. The doctor came in and realized I untied Trevor's hands. I explained to him that he never tries to pull his tubes out, just likes to scratch his face every now and again. Just then, Trev reaches up and tries to pull his nasal trumpet out. Always trying to make me look bad. And yes, I think I just compared my brother to a dog...

It might be a little ludicrous to claim that my family is lucky, but I think it's true. According to the doctors, had Trevor not injured his head the first time, he wouldn't have survived this time. The portions of his frontal and parietal lobes which were removed during the last rodeo allowed for swelling room this time, and arguably saved his life. I mean, despite the fact that the first injury may have been a huge contributor to the second, I say we're pretty dang lucky. Most likely good karma because my parents adopted a Haitian child named Schneider Oscar.