Another Week from Hell

Since Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), life has been one crisis after another, and I'm not talking about broken fingernails or failed classes, although we've had those, too.

Let's see ... Mother has been hospitalized three times, twice at my own local West Hills Hospital and once at UCLA, each time with a different complaint. First, she had an obstructed colon, and we were afraid we were going to lose her over that one. Fortunately, it resolved itself without surgery. She was left pretty much unable to walk, so I found a nice rehab center for her just up the street from my house. Next, she had crushing chest pain that sounded like a heart attack, except that her vital signs were all normal. The rehab center called an ambulance, but because her vitals were normal, they didn't consider it an emergency, so it took two hours before the ambulance got there. When it did, the ambulance attendants were alarmed by her symptoms and raced off to the hospital with lights and sirens. I had to laugh. She stayed over a week and underwent numerous tests that indicated no sign of a heart attack. After she was sent back to the rehab center, she still suffered from pain in her side, and it finally occurred to me that she might have post-herpetic neuralgia from last summer's attack of shingles. I mentioned this to her charge nurse and the doctor at the center, and they both agreed it was the likeliest diagnosis.

Most recently, I took Mother to see her neurologist at the stroke clinic at UCLA, and he was sufficiently alarmed by her condition that he hospitalized her for diagnostic tests. She had blood tests, an ultrasound of her legs (which apparently showed nothing out of the ordinary) and a marathon MRI session. Fortunately, she had been given Ativan and slept through the procedure. She had two brain scans (MRI and MRV [for stroke]), scans of her cervical spine and of her lumbar spine, and then a repeat of each of the three MRI scans with gadolinium contrast. It took a good hour and a half, and I was with her the whole time. I didn't have to do much. There were a couple of times she got restless, but I didn't have to hold her hands down the way I did in January at West Hills. I got lucky in encountering her attending neurologist shortly before she was discharged yesterday and got a pretty thorough briefing from him. I memorized the pertinent buzzwords so I could look them up when I got home to fill in details he missed or I forgot. Here's my summary:

She has a Parkinson's-like disorder (no tremor), so he is trying her on
Sinemet, a Levodopa-Carbidopa combo that you might like to research for
yourselves. He also has her on Neurontin and Lidoderm patches for the
post-herpetic neuralgia, and that seems to be working wonders for her pain.
He still wants to get an EMG test to see how the nerves respond and if there
is actual damage - there is spinal stenosis and considerable foraminal
narrowing in the lumbar spine in the region of the 4th and 5th vertebrae.
Among all the blood tests, which you will no doubt hear Mother complain of,
only one came back abnormal, and that was the antinuclear antibody panel
(ANA). This may be indicative of an autoimmune disorder like lupus or
rheumatoid arthritis, so further evaluation needs to be done there, as well.

At any rate, she's now back at Generations Canyon Oaks Rehab Center, and I hope that the combination of new medications and the elimination of morphine and Vicodin from her system will help her get her walking ability back. Every time she is hospitalized, she comes out less able to walk than when she went in. The signals just don't seem to get to her legs.

While all of this has been going on, I've also had both of the kids' cars into the body shop for work. When Evan's car's front end was being repaired, he borrowed Glen's car to take to the nearest commuter bus stop so he could get to school and had an unfortunate encounter with a parked truck. Neither incident resulted in an insurance claim, since Evan has a propensity for immolating his vehicle on SUVs and trucks. I keep reminding myself that Evan is still in the first year of having his driver's license, and my friends' sons did much worse. One totaled his car on a light pole, another was fined for driving his truck on a Little League Ball field and backed into his brother's car, and a third was convicted of vehicular manslaughter for running a light and killing a woman. In our case, it's only money. And time and aggravation.

Then, two weeks ago, Evan was arrested and jailed because he had a brain tumor as a child. He got pulled over for making a left turn in front of a California Highway Patrol cruiser, and the officers were convinced he was Driving Under the Influence. Here's Evan's account from his blog:

A little bit of background for those who don't know. I had a brain tumor. I had two surgeries to remove that tumor. While it's been well over ten years since I had any surgery, I still have problems because of the tumor. I hardly have any coordination, so I have issues with balance.

Onto Sunday night/Monday, I was watching the Oscars with my friends Ben and Nick. We all drink some beer at around 4. I only have one which was a Sam Adams Winter Ale.

At around 9 or so, we decided to have some food. I drive over to El Pollo Loco to get the food. After I picked up the food, I drive back to my friend Ben's place. On the drive back, I was turning left on Sawtelle and I cut off a CHP cruiser. Now, I was driving down Exposition and the CHP was right behind me and his lights were flashing. At first, I thought they might've been chasing someone else. It wasn’t until I heard: 'Find a place to park!’ I parked in an alleyway literally right outside of my friend’s apartment.

"Turn off the car and roll down your window" the officer said. I kill the engine, try to open the windows (power windows), so I open the door. The cop didn't appreciate that. I close the door, turn on the engine, and open the driver side window. He asked to see my license and insurance papers. I show that to him. He asks me to step out of the car. I get out of the car.

'How much have you been drinking?'

'A beer'

'What kind?

'Sam Adams'

'when?'

'at about...4 or 4:30'

'pm?'

'pm'

I take a breathalyzer test, twice. Both times it showed a BAC of nothing.

I then take the field sobriety test. I have trouble maintaining my balance.
One officer comments to the other about my dilated pupils (mind you, it was 9:30 at night).
'Personally, I don't think it's alcohol It's drugs. I've been certified by the state of California in the area of substance abuse. So, you might as well come clean about it NOW.'
'I've not done drugs'
'So, you want to play games, eh? That's your prerogative.'

While this is happening, the other officer searches through my car. Looking for drugs. Didn't find any, but the car was impounded. (Thank god I wasn't in Rampart, or they would've 'found' something)
They took away my keys, my license, my watch, and my jacket.
He makes me do the field sobriety test again. Once again, I loose my balance. I explain about the brain tumor and the difficulties I have because of it.
During this whole ordeal, my friend Ben tries to get a hold of me. I'm not allowed to answer.

I get handcuffed; take a ride to West LA CHP office. I do the field sobriety test again and again and again. Each with similar results. He takes my blood pressure. It was a bit high (I wonder why?). He takes my temperature. It's low (they took my jacket and I was in an air-conditioned room).

'I think I know what drug you're on. So, you should confess. Stop lying. My parents would've kicked my ass if I lied to a cop.'
'What drug am I on?'
'A stimulant, like Cocaine. So, what drugs have you taken today?'
'...'
'Fine. Be that way. Urine or blood test?'
'Blood'

I get back into handcuffs and drives us to Van Nuys Station. It turns out that’s the only station in LA County that does blood tests. At least I was closer to home.

We get in. I get handcuffed to a bench in a waiting room area. A female inmates chats with me who was unmistakably drunk. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had more then '4 or 5'.

I was let into another room. Put my hands against the wall. I was patted down. Then I took my shoes and socks off. The officer inspected those. I put those back on without the shoelaces. I surrendered my cell phone and wallet (as well as the laces) to the jail.

I go in for the blood test. The nurses check my temperature and blood pressure. I was still cold and had a high blood pressure reading (141). The blood was drawn.
'Do you think those results will be different then what I've been telling you?'
'Yes'

Before I was admitted, I was asked if I needed any numbers from my phone. I told that officer that I memorized all the numbers I needed. I was able to call my Mom and tell her what was going on. Later I realized I didn't have Ben's number, so I couldn't contact him (I'm really really sorry).

The last thing, the officer who arrested me said was 'Whatever you’re on you better quit now.' I didn't say anything. It was sooo tempting to roll my eyes.

I got, maybe, a grand total of an hour of sleep during my 12 hour stay. Finally got out at 2 Monday afternoon. I got my cell, my laces, and my wallet back. I was issued a temporary license. The first thing I did after I got out was to call people and listen to the zillion messages I had on my phone.

The car was towed to a lot in Culver City. Mom and I drove down there after she got me. It was at least an hour each way.

The results from the blood test should be ready sometime next week.

Evan called me a little after midnight from Van Nuys, and I immediately threw some clothes on and went to see about bailing him out. Unfortunately, I couldn't get $5000 cash in the middle of the night without paying a bail bondsman $500 for the loan. The bail bondsman assured me that Evan was likely to be out of jail the next day in any event, besides which, if he wasn't, I could get the money out of savings and not have to spend the $500.

Instead of rushing up immediately to get my kid out of jail the next morning, I had to go to the rehab center to talk to the director of nursing and the head of therapy, however. Mother was threatening to leave if she didn't get certain things taken care of. Actually, she demanded that I come up to see what we needed to do to get her out, but I didn't think she was ready, and I knew I wasn't. By the time I got that straightened out and was ready to go to the credit union to get the bail money, it had gotten to be afternoon, and Evan called to ask me to pick him up.

He's got a court date of March 19, but the attorney Evan's driving instructor referred us to predicted that the prosecutor will not choose to make a case of it. We'll probably get downtown only to discover that Evan is not on the docket, and that will be the end of the DUI business. Then he's got a telephone hearing with Driver Saftey a week and a half later, but if the DUI falls through, that should get resolved with no problem. If there are problems anywhere along the line, Evan does have an attorney who so far has cost nothing. Interestingly, Evan got literally dozens of letters from legal offices wanting to represent him. I was glad we had a personal referral.

Even if everything works out okay, we've still spent $185 to get the car out of impound, and Evan had to spend a night in jail without knowing why I hadn't bailed him out after all. The attorney did advise us to write a letter of complaint to the CHP office, and a pediatric brain tumor support group has referred me to a disability rights defense legal group that will probably take this on as a cause. We've also been asked if Evan would be willing to share his story with the TV news, but I haven't had much time to discuss this with him. I think he should, since a DUI arrest is something that could happen again to him and to others with brain damage.

Maybe this week will be better.