Caitlin was, honestly, a bit of an art history genius. She found her calling in an AP Art History class at St. Mark’s School —-looking at slides in the dark, there was nothing better, she always said. At BC, she received the Art History award, and graduated magna cum laude. She would have loved to have gone on to further study in New York or London or Paris, but her health had already started restricting her.
Here she is, immortalized in Pittsburgh, earlier this summer, at the Andy Warhol Museum. I love how she takes off her oxygen at 3:47.
The team just rounded. A chest tube on Caitlin’s left side is draining a bit more than Dr. D’Cunha likes. “She’s not unstable but I need to take a look. Clean her out.”
Last night, he said she would have a standing slot in the OR, every day for a while, in case they need to go in like this.
Thanks, Syd, for this. Made me laugh.
She’s still critical and will be for a while. In the red zone, as Andrew says.
We all feel the prayers, the intentions, the healing energy, the Buddhist chants, the love, all of it. All of it. Thank you, thank you.
Caitlin came back from her trip to the OR. Her surgeon and his fellow thoroughly searched for anything that could be causing the high lactate levels. The good news was that they did a deep and thorough search and everything looked good. No dead tissue to be seen. The liver is likely the problem, because it is swollen, still recovering from deep trauma and the blood pressure meds it had to process. But it’s working; it is not dead. So it looks like it needs some time to heal from the shock her body’s been through. We have to hold tight. Be patient. Remain positive.
Some good news was that her chest had stopped bleeding. The surgeon was very happy about that. Also, the left leg looks okay, like it’s not the source of the lactate trouble, but they will be keeping a close eye on everything, of course.
Friends, this is going to be a slow and atypical recovery, and we are going to have to learn to live with that—-with uncertainty and worry and relief and more worry and hopefully, a final blast of relief.
Honestly, it all feels like a game of whack-a-mole.
But….. Dr. D’Cunha really made us feel okay tonight. As we’ve learned in Boston, there are so many doctors in a teaching hospital that you learn to be careful who you listen to. One guy said something really stupid over Caitlin today, in front of Nick. (“Might have to amputate that leg.”)
Nick dealt with him.
Dr. D’Cunha, referring to that, said, “Caitlin has two doctors—-me and her (pointing to the wonderful Lara, his right-hand fellow). “We’re the only two you listen to, and when she’s talking, she’s talking for me, okay?”
Okay! Happy to have her in his good, life-saving hands.
I also put a sign above Caitlin’s bed: Positive Talk ONLY Around Caitlin, Please !!!
Thank you, all, for all of your continued prayers and light and love. What a blessed holiday season this has been for us, and, I hope, for all of you.
FEROCIOUS POSITIVITY CONTINUES
–Maryanne, with Nick, Andrew, Jess
PS: In the spirit of the season, I think Caitlin would be really happy if I posted this picture of Henry for a little dramatic relief.
Caitlin has new working lungs, but the rest of her is struggling, and she needs all the energetic help she can get, along with everything her incredible doctors are giving her.
1. Her liver is still in tough shape, but the numbers were slightly better this morning.
2. She’s producing a lot of lactate, which generally indicates lack of tissue oxygenation, but they are not sure from where. We need to get that number down, and ensure adequate tissue oxygenation.
3. On ECMO, a patient’s pulses are checked constantly. They’ve lost detection of a pulse in her left leg/foot, which is her non-ECMO leg, but it is too risky to bring her back to the OR to try and figure out what is happening here.
Normally, transplant patients are forced out of bed, even in pain, right away, to get them moving, but that’s impossible right now. We have to take it one hour at a time.
That’s our update. We’re so thankful we are on the other side of this battle, but she’s been dropped right back into the trenches, immobile and very beaten up.
Caitlin has come out of the OR to her room at the ICU where the team is working to keep her stable. Right now, her biggest problem is her liver. It’s not functioning and needs support. The liver can take a lot of trauma and turn around so we have to hope that’s going to happen here. We can’t have a failing liver, or she will fail.
Her chest is open and covered with a rubber membrane because of the swelling. In a few hours, they will take her back to the OR to clean this area up a bit.
She’s got a lot of swelling and bruising.
So, lungs, heart, kidneys are okay and manageable.
Dr. D’Cunha just came in and said she’ll be going back to the ICU in about half an hour. The bleeding has slowed down, turned to oozing. They are still concerned about the liver. She’s going back on full ECMO so that’s an issue. One thing at a time.
The small tiger is recovering in the right direction.
Dr. Jonathan D’Cunha–a man who has worked tirelessly for more than 36 hours now, to organize and execute a plan to save our daughter’s life.
It’s past midnight, and all are still working on Caitlin, and that is still happening in the OR. We haven’t had an update in well over two hours when one of the surgeons reported that they were trying to stop the bleeding in her chest wall. They were thinking that it was her liver causing that.
Technically, the surgery is done, but they’re having trouble getting Caitlin off the heart/lung bypass. Her body needs to start up again on its own, generate blood pressure. They’re setting up multiple dialysis machines to try and help her transition off the heart/lung support back to ECMO.
We got word that the lungs arrived safely to the OR at noon, and just recently got word that the right lung is already in. It was a perfect fit, with no trimming needed. This is what you hope for.
Her left lower lobe was removed when she was 11, so there is a lot of scar tissue on that side. That will be more of an issue, but it’s very very good news that the right lung went in so easily. I am overcome to know that our wonderful Caitlin now has a healthy lung inside of her! Google transplanted lungs and you will see what these people have been trying to live on for so long.
Thank you, thank you, dear donor and family.
A tribute to donors, along “the bridge.”
Late yesterday afternoon, I brought Jess over to the “bridge,” which connects Presby Hospital to Montefiore Hospital. It’s the prettiest part of the complex here, with lots of glass windows, and walls lined with photos of bridges across the world. (Pittsburgh is called the City of Bridges). It’s been hard for me to go over there these past ten days, because I associate it with Caitlin, but I wanted Jess to see it. We walked along and looked at all the photographs, and talked about Caitlin, and how brave she has always been. For example, in 2012, she packed all of her oxygen equipment and medicines into a suitcase almost as large as she was, and rented an apartment for two weeks, alone, in Paris. As hard as that was to do, she knew time was running out for her to do it at all. Indeed, 2013 was the year she finally crashed and began to use oxygen 24/7.
After crossing the bridge, Jess and I went into the Meditation Room/Chapel and sat quietly. I wrote a request in the Prayer Request book. Jess said, “Can I add something?”
“Of course,” I said.
She wrote, today.
Our friends MJ and Scott Hamilton told us about someone who is waiting for sainthood, but needs another miracle, so we added him, too. He died on Groundhog Day in 1921, and February 2 has always been an auspicious day for our family.
At 8:30 am, Caitlin was taken to the OR. At 9:30, we got word that the blessed donor lungs are good and that surgery will begin as these lungs make their way to Caitlin. (It’s a carefully timed and choreographed surgical dance.)
This will be a long day, with few updates. It’s an extremely high risk surgery at this point, and we can only hold tight. This is usually a 12-hour or so surgery, but it can go for up to 20 hours, or even more.
I’ll update, during the day, with what I know and with little stories about how this all went down.
THANK YOU, ALL, for your prayers and love and light for our beloved Caitlin, and for the donor family and their holiday loss. I am holding them in my heart.
9 Lives Notes 