Mom had her second surgery in early September, shortly after labor day. She received an artificial graft of her thoraco-abdominal aortic aneurysm (aka TAAA) in open surgical repair. From her aortic arch down to her illiac arterie. Here’s an illustration of something similar. Her aneurysm was over 6.2 centimeters in diameter in places, extended the full length at varying diameters, and included at least one dissection.
Her surgeon for this one had two key traits you want in your surgeons in general–cockiness and meticulousness. My informal survey of CVSU nurses agreed as to these traits being desirable. That is in addition to the kind of things you can look up on healthgrades and the like with respect to number of procedures, survival rates, and so forth.
Mom has gotten tinier over the course of all this, which brings up the question: how the hell did she have room for over two feet of enlarged artery?
She was hospitalized for about 10 days, and then lived with Shaggy and me again for an additional five weeks or so. Dad’s leg had recovered, but after round one, we determined that it would best if she stayed with me again. We had routines for bathing, language for helping her move around, and so forth.
The pain for this procedure is brutal. The incision went from her shoulder blade and spiraled around to her pubic bone. And, as one of the CVSU staff pointed out, not only are there issues with protecting her spine, protecting her renal system,they basically have to get a bunch of pesky other organs out of the way.
She’s still improving–has followup with her internist next week, where I’m sure the encouragement for dietary reform will -become serious. On the other hand, thanks to a cardiac rehab facility and program, she’s exercising more deliberately in years, and I am 99% certain she no longer smokes.
My sister and I like to remind her of one excellent motivator to continue to improve her health, including pursuing the harder to implement lifestyle items:
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- this kid loves her cereal
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- My mom feeds her granddaughter
She still describes the night we went to the ER as a catastrophe. We like to remind her of what one of her CVSU nurses called it: Her Lucky Day. Ours too.
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