"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.”
---Eleanor Roosevelt
If my mother were alive, you would not be reading this. Without the time, or permission, I would not be writing it. Born in 1925, Momma would be 98 years old. Having lost her most unexpectedly in 2011 --- she was at our dear friend Margie's Beauty Shop three days before her death, making a hair appointment for the following week --- I often reflect on the last eleven years that we had together. A miracle, if you ask me. As my Cousin Margaret Magee Joffrion recently told me, those last eleven years were a gift. That, I knew.
The Baptist preacher at my father's funeral described my parents as private people. Among their World War II generation, it was pretty typical to keep things close to the vest. So, penning this piece, I know that I'm overstepping my bounds. But considering the cost/benefit, I think putting this down on paper --- or in the paper in this case --- is worth it. At my urging, Momma had gone for a routine screening colonoscopy in May of 2000, 23 years ago last week. And for her, that was almost the end of the line.
Back then, our family had no concept of the assumed risk associated with a colonoscopy, but the risk, while rare, is real. The day following the procedure, Momma fell ill at Margie's Beauty Shop where she was a regular. Close friend Margie Passman rendered aid on her iconic blueish green settee. After we returned to Mandeville, Momma drove herself to the hospital while I picked up my daughter from school. I had no other option. But as I later learned, time was of the essence. We had no idea what was unfolding.
In a tragic sequence of events, following emergency surgery that evening, Momma spiraled downward until near death. The prognosis was grim. But God's will and the strength He gave Momma pulled her through, after 71 arduous days in the hospitals. During his hospital career, my dad often opined that if a patient is hospitalized too long, he's unlikely to come out (alive). I couldn't get his long-ago warning out of my head. Yet, in one fell swoop, Momma suffered and survived a host of conditions --- pulmonary embolus, paradoxical cerebral embolus, adult respiratory distress syndrome, myocardial infarction, and more. For the reason already enumerated, I hesitate to expound, but that Momma had not been expected to live is not understandable otherwise.
In fact, my daughter, now an Internal Medicine doctor specializing in Pulmonary and Critical Care --- that is not a coincidence --- maintains that her MiMi was one in a million. Apparently, all these conditions together --- the perfect storm in a seventy-five-year-old --- are often not survivable. Yet, with the expertise and persistence of Dr. Richard Casey and his team, Momma pulled through, coming off the ventilator after nearly three weeks, an extraordinarily long time to survive on the vent. I will never forget that day.
Many of you were with us, during these dark days --- my mother's family and our devoted friends sustained us. A treasured note from friend Peggy (Mrs. Bill) Bateman perhaps said it best, "Dear Cecily, I continue to keep you and your loved ones in my prayers. Through Doris (Bernstein) & others I keep up with your Mom's progress and was happy to hear that she is a tiny bit improved and was either off or hoping to be off the respirator and heavy sedation. Last year, I lost my mom. We were very close, talked at length every day sometimes more. Although she lived in N.O. in her little cottage, we still managed to get together. I keep wanting to call her & I guess I always will. I tell you this only because I can truly empathize with you….Love, Peggy"
Colonoscopies are indeed life-saving. Colon cancer is curable with early detection, and colonoscopies are the gold standard, in screening. In addition, complications are rare. I recently had my own, having begun them at age thirty-six.
But every single time, I am a basket case. One would have to endure what we did, all those years ago, to understand. For me, it's like it was yesterday. And for others, it is. I just heard from a family friend about a lovely woman in Baton Rouge who recently suffered the same complication post-colonoscopy as my mother. Apparently she, too, was at death's door.
So, here's my personal plan, for what it's worth -- an outstanding doctor with an impeccable record is a must. I didn't do my homework 23 years ago. Now, while I try not to rankle, I ask lots of questions. It's appalling that, unbeknownst to us, the doctor who performed my mother's procedure had perforated other patients, several from Washington Parish. So, it doesn't hurt to interview the physician. We have a multitude of great gastroenterologists to choose from.
Another important consideration --- a reputable, safe facility where the procedure is routinely done. Patient's choice, limited by personal circumstances and insurance of course. The daughter of a hospital CEO, I personally prefer the hospital but to each his own. I have, in the past, opted for self-standing facilities.
Post-procedure --- I am vigilant, watching for anything out of the ordinary including, but not limited to, fever, pain, weakness, fainting, general malaise. Any of these would set off alarms such that I would race to the nearest emergency room for the tell-tale x-ray. Seconds count. Note: I have zero medical training. The doctor/facility provides professional instructions.
We are blessed to have superb physicians to see today. And we also did, back then. Dr. James "Jim" Cody of Franklinton, now retired, was one of the finest surgeons around. I wish Momma had seen him. I wish I had known more, this time 23 years ago.
