Dear boys,
Just three months after Pow Pow recovered from Covid he gave us another scare. Suffering an AVM (arteriovenous malformation) rupture — more simply a type of stroke that causes bleeding in the brain — he was rushed by ambulance to Allegheny General in downtown Pittsburgh. It was the middle of the night when Gail and Elio got the dreaded call, packed a few things and hit the road. One day later we would arrive.
I really don’t know how we managed to get through this past month. So much of it is a blur. Several trips to Pittsburgh, countless sleepless nights, lots of tears and lots of prayer. But you guys seemed to manage okay. I suppose you’re better at compartmentalizing your feelings since you don’t completely understand that the loss of a loved one is not temporary, especially with someone you are close with. Although one day Cash broke down crying when we received some discouraging news. “I’m trying not to think about Pow Pow Mommy. It makes me sad. We should pray for him right now.” Moving closer to each other so we could hold hands we bowed our heads and prayed.
Turns out a whole lot of other people were praying for Pow Pow too. It was a day to day wait-and-see whether he would recover without any damage to his brain or quality of life; but while doctors were preparing us for things to go either way, Pow Pow began getting better. By the second week in the Neuro ICU his blood pressure stabilized and the bleeding in his brain had stopped. He started opening his eyes for visitors — one of the more exciting moments — eventually focusing, and speaking a few (inaudible) words. Soon he was answering the nurses questions like what year it was, his name and the names of family members. And although he’d ramble nonsensical dialogues and was often greatly confused, at least he was trying to communicate. For the first time a feeling of wondrous hope swept over us.
The neurosurgeon said that surgery was too risky for someone of Pow Pow’s advanced age. His body’s response to the removal of the shunt would be the determining factor in his recovery. Placed there when he first arrived to drain fluid and relieve pressure, its removal was one of the final tests. Because of this he’d be under close observation for 48 hours. When his body was able to adjust and do the work on its own, there was no question it was a miracle! Soon he was using a walker with assistance, sitting up in a chair, answering questions more articulately, and because he could swallow on his own, the feeding tube was removed. Before we knew it, Pow Pow was being discharged to a rehab hospital — the best possible outcome — and the darkest period had come to an end.
Because of Covid restrictions, unfortunately you weren’t able to go inside the rehab. But you were able to come up to Pow Pow’s window, at which point I’d call Daddy’s cell so you could talk through speaker phone. As Pow Pow so eloquently put it, “We were making chicken salad out of chicken shit.”
He hadn’t seen you in real life — if you can believe it — since Christmas 2019, and it meant so much to him that after you left, he couldn’t stop telling me how wonderful it was. I believe your window visits and the visits from other family members lifted his spirits and helped his recovery. He had something to look forward to each day that gave him the hope, will and inspiration to work harder.
When you and Grey headed back to the car, Pow Pow said, “That was Cash? Let me see him again.” I rapped on the window and motioned for you to come back. He wanted to see your face one more time, to encourage you to keep doing well in school and, in his playful tone, remind you to listen to your mother. There’s no question he’s making progress since those are things he has always said to you Cash. As you looked at him through the window, I could see your eyes soften and your smile widen, even with your mask on, and a sense of relief come over you. The Pow Pow you know and love was making a comeback.
Always and forever,
Mom