A Bittersweet Thanksgiving

This post was originally published on Corrina’s Caringbridge site:
https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/corrina

I often look forward to writing these journal entries. I find the process to be incredibly cathartic. There's something about putting all the hurt, anger, confusion, frustration, successes and joys of our experience into words that makes me feel like we're on top of all this. We can control our words. We own our words. So when our path is verbalized, it feels (to me) like the mountain gets put behind us and we're on to a new present.

Knowing that has made me want to write. I think I'm subconsciously aware of the potential release even before I sit down in front of my laptop.

This one, however, is a different story. Maybe it's exhaustion. Maybe it's the overwhelming sadness I feel. Maybe it's the numbness through which I currently look out at the world around me. Maybe it's the holiday. But I don't think I can write this one away. I've been reticent to post this update for a few days, but I know I have to.

Corrina recovering following the emergency craniotomy which saved her life.

First of all, a HUGE thank you to Barbara Ruzansky, the staff and teachers at WHY, and all of you who contributed, whether by organizing, attending or donating, to make Corrina's fundraiser such a massively successful event. It took our breath away to see how many people lovingly support Corrina and that itself is a reflection of how many lives she's touched in one way or another. Thank you all for being a part of that event and for channeling such incredible life force her way. Although she couldn't attend, Corrina was watching from her bed at St. Francis, practicing right along side us.

As I mentioned in my last post, Corrina went into the ER last Wednesday (one week ago) due to deficits in her speech and right side of her body. This was fairly quickly identified to be the result of an infection at the entry point of the biopsy and not a stroke, though her symptoms seemed characteristic. To treat, she was put on several varieties of antibiotics and while certain areas improved, other areas did not to a point which became very concerning.

CT scans over multiple days revealed an air pocket in her brain which was developing in size and pushing against the motor cortex and actually shifting the midline, resulting in loss of speech and right-side mobility. The bacteria of the infection was off-gassing in such a way to create this growing pocket and was not responding to antibiotics.

On Tuesday evening (everything fucking bad seems to happen on Tuesdays), Dr. Bruce Chozick from neurosurgery (himself a former brain surgery patient) arrived with a gravity and sense of urgency we hadn't yet been confronted with us. I speak for the whole family in appreciation of Chozick's direct candor. The consensus among the medical staff was that emergency surgery was going to be required to relieve the growing pressure from the air pocket. If we didn't operate, Corrina would decline fast. So, after a final decision by Corrina herself, our angel was rushed into emergency surgery on Tuesday evening, within 90 minutes of our being presented with the option. A craniotomy was performed to release the air pocket and reduce the swelling in Corrina's brain. The procedure was a success and both we and Dr. Chozick felt like the right decision was made.

Corrina spent Wednesday post-op in the ICU and is now recovering in a non-intensive care unit of St. Francis. Her speech and mobility are slowly coming back, but we all know it is going to take time to heal. This is the long road of which we were told.

One of the hardest parts of this whole journey is the speed and intensity with which changes have occurred.  And unfortunately, it's only the bad things which happen quickly and with marked definition. The curveballs come fast and are incredibly jarring, while the positive improvements are subtle and take so long. It's so frustrating, especially considering all the progress Corrina had made up through last week. SHE WAS DRIVING!

And now here we are on Thanksgiving. A strong part of me wants to default to the fact that there’s not much to be thankful for on this day but I can't go there. Corrina is doing better than yesterday and that is everything. Today was a good day. She wasn't in pain. She was comfortable. We laughed. We were together. There is the ability to be thankful for life even in the midst of suffering. Cancer feeds on despair. Life thrives on gratitude. This is just how life looks now. We are living.

And for that, I am truly thankful.