Walter Trout Update Via: Marie Trout Today marks three weeks since Walter and I arrived in Nebraska. I wish I had better news to report. Walter is reaching a state of encephalopathy that is unnerving. He is confused, tired, nauseous and uncomfortable. It is due to very high levels of ammonia in his bloodstream. Since the liver is not doing its job filtering the impurities, they go into his blood and therefore also to his brain. It will go away when they insert that new liver! Today was a day of spending time in his presence but not really making much contact. He was frustrated and sad, because he could tell that he could not communicate much, and felt powerless. I ended up doing what I often do in those kinds of situations: I climbed in bed with him and just held him. I rocked him gently. We fell asleep like that, and holding his frail body was the best way of connecting today. We both felt better. Our bodies communicated where words could not: the love between us nurtured us. I study his back in those moments, and I can see every vertebra in his spine, the contour of his shoulder blades, and the tendons in his neck. I watch each labored breath, and I feel his body cling to life in spite of all it is going through. I am not anxious. I feel at peace knowing we both do everything we can. I feel love for him and that is what I concentrate on. Yesterday, we decided that instead of being frustrated about the long wait, we would simply refer to the operation as happening tomorrow. Always tomorrow! And thus assume that it is right around the corner. When tomorrow comes and no liver is available yet, we will still refer to it as “tomorrow”. Much like in the movie, Groundhog Day, where learning to make the most of what is, breaks the spell. Time stands still for us until “tomorrow” actually does arrive with that liver. One day, it WILL be tomorrow and the surgery will take place. And we will not get any further ahead of ourselves than “tomorrow”. And maybe that magical tomorrow will be soon. I have a feeling that we are getting closer. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens when I am LA over the weekend! Yes, that is right….. The doctors have assured me that it is OK, and Walter insisted a few days ago that I get the ticket to go. I will leave Friday and come back early Sunday. Here is the reason: our middle son, Mike, who is an excellent drummer, has his final show in the Academy of the Performing Arts before he graduates High School in a month. He has been in this program for four years, and the final show is significant--a rite of passage-- for the seniors. Walter and I could not imagine not being there for that. Mike will be performing throughout the show each night this weekend. I am working to shake the feeling that I let down one of my loves no matter what I do. It is the final show for Mike. And it could be surgery time for Walter without me there. However, Walter’s doctor assured us that it is OK that I go. He feels that no matter what, the staff at the hospital has everything under control, and even if the surgery happens while I am gone, they got it covered. I don’t know…. Walter’s point of view is: What if you sit here all weekend, and the surgery doesn’t happen? Then you will kick yourself for not being there for Mike. It is true. I wish I could clone myself to be in two places. And we will see. I am still very torn about it. I made another visit to the grocery store today. Buying staple foods, cooking, and writing is my new therapy; glimmers of normalcy. And as alone as I feel at times, I am covered in the love that you send my way. When you read what I write here; I feel that you surround us with a protective sense of calm. I watched a boy about Dylan’s age play in the rain on my way back from the grocery store today. He was wearing red shorts and a yellow shirt that sat tight around his bulging belly. He seemed a bit clumsy and insecure. He was somebody’s son. And that somebody might not even realize how lucky they are to have him in their lives. No matter how far my loves are from me; one in Denmark, two in California, one with me here in Nebraska – they are on my mind all the time. And I never ever will take any of them for granted for a second again. And by extension, life in general! I marvel at the life force; the hawk that flew over the river this morning, the blossoms on the cherry trees, the wind in my hair, the rain on my cheeks. Why is it I spent so much of my time previously concerned with the shortcomings of my life or of my loved ones, when each breath and each encounter, even with perfect strangers, each look, each smile, each telling sigh, each drop of rain, each flower, each moment is a magnificent gift? I knew that before – yet I didn’t have a clue!
Posted on: Thu, 01 May 2014 13:42:34 +0000
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