My mother celebrates two birthdays.
The first on December 7, the day she was born. The second on July 15th, the day she came back to life. Because my mother had no intention of leaving so early. And she fought, with all the odds she had, without giving up. She had to give up many things in life, but she didn't give up on living!
My mother underwent two open heart surgeries. She was always tired, without strength, she was dizzy and out of breath at the slightest effort. After months of visits and various analyzes, we discovered that she had severe mitral failure. The cardiac surgeon said that with a routine minimally invasive operation, the valve can be repaired. And so we left, me and she, towards the hospital where we had to stay for 10 maximum 15 days.
She stayed there for 5 months.
The first intervention, the minimally invasive valve plastic, turns into a replacement of the valve with a type of mechanic. According to the doctors, everything was fine, and she had to "exclusively" live with an anticoagulant for the rest of her life.
The recovery was very difficult, it was as if her body began to fall apart. With great difficulty she managed to get out of intensive care and return to the ward. But things didn't improve much. She was always tired, she was not well physically and above all psychologically. She had audiovisual hallucinations, she didn't collaborate with the physiotherapist, she didn't improve. After about three weeks from hospitalization, the doctors decided to discharge her in order to continue rehabilitative physiotherapy in an institution closer to home. We had everything ready to finally leave the hospital, but they decided not to discharge her, because that morning her platelets were too low and she risked internal bleeding. The ordeal was not over, indeed it had yet to begin.
On July 13 she begins to fail to breathe independently and the kidneys were not functioning. That night they bring her back to semi-intensive, and she seemed to improve. On the night of July 14 the worst situation, saturation collapses and they decide to intubate and transfer her to resuscitation. At dawn on July 15, they do an ultrasound through the esophagus. The valve positioned about a month ago is detached, it hangs for a few points.
My mother is dying.
They made me seated in an office, and it's never a good sign, they explain the whole situation to me and the options are foreseen: either we operate in urgency, with 90% chance of failure, or we expect the inevitable.
"Let's try, at least we have to try," I thought.
In resuscitation my mother was already ready for the operating room, anesthetized, intubated and full of threads. They told me to say goodbye. Every time I whispered to her, she raised her eyebrows and I am convinced that a part of her was listening to me.
The surgery lasted seven and a half hours. The cardiac surgeon said that it had gone well but obviously the situation was critical. It was going to be a long night. The following morning we went to the hospital very early, my mother was still alive. Since then every day in life was a blessing. It took a long time for her to recover. She remained 62 days in intensive care.
But after all that suffering she was still alive. She had to learn to move again, to eat alone and to walk. Her muscles had atrophied and she was completely paralyzed.
But she didn't give up.
No doctor thought she would get up in such a short time, but she did. She wanted to go back to being independent, the strong and independent woman she had always been.
After 5 months of hospitalization, two open heart surgeries and dozens of complications, she returned home tired, with 20 kg less and without hair (she had lost them due to the enormous stress).
But alive.
Few people in the world can tell such a story.
Only a mother was able to face such a tough test: because their strength is immense, inexhaustible.
Moms presented life. And life always wins.
Thanks mà
The first on December 7, the day she was born. The second on July 15th, the day she came back to life. Because my mother had no intention of leaving so early. And she fought, with all the odds she had, without giving up. She had to give up many things in life, but she didn't give up on living!
My mother underwent two open heart surgeries. She was always tired, without strength, she was dizzy and out of breath at the slightest effort. After months of visits and various analyzes, we discovered that she had severe mitral failure. The cardiac surgeon said that with a routine minimally invasive operation, the valve can be repaired. And so we left, me and she, towards the hospital where we had to stay for 10 maximum 15 days.
She stayed there for 5 months.
The first intervention, the minimally invasive valve plastic, turns into a replacement of the valve with a type of mechanic. According to the doctors, everything was fine, and she had to "exclusively" live with an anticoagulant for the rest of her life.
The recovery was very difficult, it was as if her body began to fall apart. With great difficulty she managed to get out of intensive care and return to the ward. But things didn't improve much. She was always tired, she was not well physically and above all psychologically. She had audiovisual hallucinations, she didn't collaborate with the physiotherapist, she didn't improve. After about three weeks from hospitalization, the doctors decided to discharge her in order to continue rehabilitative physiotherapy in an institution closer to home. We had everything ready to finally leave the hospital, but they decided not to discharge her, because that morning her platelets were too low and she risked internal bleeding. The ordeal was not over, indeed it had yet to begin.
On July 13 she begins to fail to breathe independently and the kidneys were not functioning. That night they bring her back to semi-intensive, and she seemed to improve. On the night of July 14 the worst situation, saturation collapses and they decide to intubate and transfer her to resuscitation. At dawn on July 15, they do an ultrasound through the esophagus. The valve positioned about a month ago is detached, it hangs for a few points.
My mother is dying.
They made me seated in an office, and it's never a good sign, they explain the whole situation to me and the options are foreseen: either we operate in urgency, with 90% chance of failure, or we expect the inevitable.
"Let's try, at least we have to try," I thought.
In resuscitation my mother was already ready for the operating room, anesthetized, intubated and full of threads. They told me to say goodbye. Every time I whispered to her, she raised her eyebrows and I am convinced that a part of her was listening to me.
The surgery lasted seven and a half hours. The cardiac surgeon said that it had gone well but obviously the situation was critical. It was going to be a long night. The following morning we went to the hospital very early, my mother was still alive. Since then every day in life was a blessing. It took a long time for her to recover. She remained 62 days in intensive care.
But after all that suffering she was still alive. She had to learn to move again, to eat alone and to walk. Her muscles had atrophied and she was completely paralyzed.
But she didn't give up.
No doctor thought she would get up in such a short time, but she did. She wanted to go back to being independent, the strong and independent woman she had always been.
After 5 months of hospitalization, two open heart surgeries and dozens of complications, she returned home tired, with 20 kg less and without hair (she had lost them due to the enormous stress).
But alive.
Few people in the world can tell such a story.
Only a mother was able to face such a tough test: because their strength is immense, inexhaustible.
Moms presented life. And life always wins.
Thanks mà
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