What Daddy Had, What Dad Needs

Intracerebral Hemorrhagic Stroke. Such big words, such intimidating statistics. According to the National Stroke Association, hemorrhagic strokes account for about fifteen percent of all stroke cases, but account for more than 30 percent of all stroke-related deaths. Truly, dad's recovery and progress is nothing short of miraculous. In fact, dad's doctors have said that this is a second lease on life. "Not many people survive this," Dr Javier, his attending physician, told us.

As we go into the rehabilitation phase of his recovery, Dad's needs have changed. Surprisingly, he knows everything, down to the PIN number of his ATM card, down to the last word document he typed out with regard to his latest business venture. While his internal timeline is a bit off (not surprising; if you've been lying down in the hospital for four weeks and if so much drugs are being pushed into your system, your timeline would be a bit off too), it is certainly improving. He is already aware what day it is; in fact, he remembered that it was our driver's wife's birthday tomorrow.

For now, he needs sleep--that is how the brain recovers. He also needs laughter and a stress-free environment. "There are some people I just want to kick out," he sometimes says, in jest, about certain visitors. He needs prayers, as he continues on his greatest journey yet. You will all be pleased to know that he is a cooperative patient, in terms of therapy and diet. He is truly determined to get better. His therapists, too, marvel at his daily progress: every day, he gets stronger, takes one extra step, uses more of his left (weaker) side, etc.

Of course, he may argue on what he needs for now: tapsilog; crispy pata; pretty nurses to look at; blah, blah, blah. So yes, to those who know him, you could say that he is "still Manolo."

Stroke Victims Support

As you already know, my father, Manolo Aquino, suffered a stroke last October 23, 2009. If you know of an expert/ support group/ network on Stroke Victims, or anyone who can give us valuable insights/ advice on how to cope, as well as rehab and treatment, please let me know.

By the way, both my brother and I are Internet-savvy; we know you mean well when you say, "look it up in Google," but believe me, we already have. We just want to exhaust all means possible.

Thank you very much.

What's the Latest?

They say the worst is over, and it certainly feels like it is. More than anything, my dad, my brother and I are absolutely thankful for the prayers and well wishes everyone has been sending our way. We are also grateful for the wild and crazy family that showers us with support, humor, and shoulders to lean on during this time of uncertainty.

Dad has been recovering well. He made me laugh today when one of the nurses introduced herself, and Papa, under his breath, whispered to me, "Now take off your clothes." Baliw na lalake. And yes, Tita Chrisine, I have been on the lookout for the local version of McDreamy/ McSteamy/ Alex Karev. So far, none yet. Boo!

Papa has definitely progressed. He can now take water and is on a clear liquid diet. We are weaning him off the feeding tube. He has already been cleared of the breathing tube, the catheter, and the insulin drip (it's now shots). I think back to the time that we came in just 12 days ago and I am truly thankful for this progress. I am also truly thankful that, throughout this time, he has been absolutely lucid and conscious.

People have been telling me to relax and look for non-hospital related things to think about. In time, we all will. However, for now, this dominates our lives. As my brother goes back to work, he texts me non-stop on dad's condition. I dream about sitting in my dad's ICU room, giving instructions to the nurse. On the side, I DO look out for McSteamy (WALA BA TALAGANG SINGLE NA GWAPONG DOKTOR DITO?); we eat the Filipino rice at Floating Island (yum); I text friends to take me out for lunch or dinner.

On a side note--here are some pieces of unsolicited advice:

1.) Invest in medical insurance. It's something you never want to use, but it'll save your loved ones a ton of headache. Thank God Dad thought of this way in advance!

2.) Do the "if the worst should happen" talk with your kids. I am not joking. Dad gave me this talk a few months ago and it has made me a bit aware of what to do. Thankfully, the worst hasn't happened, but at least I know that I'm covered.

3.) Never wear heels to the hospital. Fashionwise, comfort and layers is key. But always try to look your best, even if you're a bleary-eyed zombie walking around at 2 am. You never know who might be around! :-D