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Sunday, May 4, 2003 Dear Friends,
I sit here this beautiful afternoon with the sun dappling our yard, the promises of spring fulfilled in every blooming flower, every chirping bird, every sweet breeze. I sit here trying to find words of thanks for each of you -- for your prayers, love, support, encouragement, kindness, joy. I've struggled to find these words for days and days. I have finally found peace that whatever I write will be a horribly insufficient expression of thanks. That acknowledgement at the outset gives me a certain measure of freedom. Freedom is also found in the realization that not one of you wants or needs thanks -- that like our God's love, your love for us is without condition.
For these awesome weeks, you have been -- at various points in time -- hands that have held ours in prayer, shoulders on which we've sobbed, backs that have carried us, arms that have held us. More than anything, however, you have been God's visible expression of love for us. You are what make it possible for me to say that my head is wounded but my heart is healed. Thank you, thank you, thank you with all that we have and all that we are.
Now to the general status report. I'm alive. I'm sane -- relatively speaking. I'm about as coordinated as I've ever been -- which is to say not very coordinated. Disappointingly, my mental capacity is unchanged -- I had hoped for more. And if the preliminary pathology reports reflect my brain tumor cells and not those of some chimp in a lab, I'm likely to be around for a spell.
As everyone now knows, the surgery last Wednesday was very successful. We went into surgery on Wednesday with Dr. Park predicting he'd be able to get 60 o 70 of the tumor. He met us on Thursday morning with three lemonades in hand -- I'd unsuccessfully tried to bribe them to give me some during surgery -- saying it looked like he'd extracted between 97 00
This past Sunday, Kim and I returned home. My left side was decidedly weak and highly uncoordinated -- even for me. I had trouble doing most everything I'd always taken for granted -- getting dressed, putting on shoes, tomahawk dunking a basketball, etc. It was worst late in the day when I was tired. But by midweek, there was a lot of improvement. My dunking capabilities hadn't returned, but getting dressed became largely a solo activity and I began to hold the phone in my left hand without dropping it.
Starting on Monday I began taking short walks, which were initially utterly exhausting. It was amazing to me that I had run (mostly) 26.2 miles on March 23rd but by April 28th walking around the block was taxing -- this brain surgery thing actually takes something out of a guy.
As we began to settle back into home, I was tapering off large doses of steroids they'd been giving me since surgery to control swelling in my brain -- no 'getting a big head' comments, ok? While I'm hoping these drugs won't disqualify me from the next Olympics, I do wonder about the folks who do take them for the physical benefit of them. In the words of a physician friend, they make a guy PMSy -- and knowing how well guys handle moods and emotions to begin with, you can imagine how much fun it was ramping down -- who said insomnia isn't a blast?
Day by day, things improved physically -- and Friday loomed. On Friday I was to get my staples -- yes, staples in my scalp -- removed, and we would hear the all-important preliminary pathology report. So Friday morning, we trekked to NIH. When we arrived, Laurie, a physician?s assistant we'd met during my surgery stay greeted us with, "Oh, Dr. Park is waiting for you." It was nearly an hour later before he and Dr. Fine came out to get us. During our wait, we sat in the clinic waiting room surrounded by people in various stages of suffering from brain tumors. It was hard to see these brave souls fighting and to hear their words, "I can feel the end coming." "She's losing hope." Kim was, as always, my rock -- she prayed and sang in my ear, held my hand, and gave me a Sports Illustrated.
They finally escorted us into an examination room where we met doctors Fine and Park, who had just gotten off the phone with the NIH pathologist talking about my case. After about 45 seconds of mindless -- so to speak -- chit chat, I said, "So, what do we know about the path report?" The bottom line of the 30 minutes that followed was that these preliminary findings -- more tests are to be run and other pathologists consulted this week -- were "very, very good." Dr. Fine indicated that this tumor appeared to be a particularly slow growing type of tumor, that if it were to reappear it typically does so in "decades" -- far preferable to say, weeks or months. However, he also made it clear that there might be parts of the tumor that weren't as so slow growing and that they might recommend some radiation treatments targeted to the edges of where the tumor had been to "sterilize" the area. We will know even more in the next 10 days or so, but are obviously very encouraged by these preliminary reports. And just in case anyone is wondering, scalp staple removal isn't painful -- though I don't recommend trying it at home. There is a little staple remover that pries them from your scalp, just like the office ones remove ordinary staples from paper. So if you ever wondered about wounding paper, don't -- it doesn't hurt.
Kim and I left NIH overwhelmed by God?s goodness, feeling the power of every prayer, and numb at this whole experience. We drove down GW Parkway with the top down on her convertible, listening to worship music, wiping tears from our eyes. We then took a trip across Memorial Bridge and wound our way back to Rock Creek Parkway to see where this had all begun. During our stay at the NIH, Kim befriended a security guard who worked for the National Park Police for 30 years and spent much of his time patrolling Rock Creek Park. When she told him about the accident, he said wide-eyed, "Do you know what we call that stretch of the Parkway? Devil's Run. And we call that P Street overpass 'the Devil's Chair.'" Apparently, it is the most dangerous and most vulnerable part of the Parkway. Never was that clearer to us than when we drove back through it. As we did so, I marveled at the miracle that was our escape from the initial accident. To anyone who wonders about miracles, talk to us -- we've experienced quite a few these past few weeks.
By Friday night, Kim and I both felt more exhausted at every level than at any time in the past three weeks. A dear friend put it well, "You are coming out on the other side of this valley, where the shadow of death has passed close enough for you to feel the beating of its wings." We look forward now to a period of rest and recovery -- and of thanks and praise.
More tests are on the horizon, MRIs will become a way of life for the indefinite future, and I will be off the roads for at least six months -- not that I have any immediate desire to get back behind the wheel anyway, targeted radiation therapy is a possibility.
The doctors have made it abundantly clear that we are to rest, rest, and rest for the coming few weeks. We are inclined to trust them -- especially after they reiterated that i have veins in my head that were still healing after being detached during surgery. I'm against ruptured blood vessels in my brain.
We are still far too close to these events to be able to provide any grand insights -- and perhaps they won't ever come. But we can both say that we wouldn't have traded these experiences and these days for anything in the world. First, we are awed by God. He has held us close, turned loose his angels to fight for us, been with us in remarkable ways at every moment. As He always does, He came looking for us and we let him find us. Second, we have been overwhelmed by prayers, notes, calls, gifts, and love from each of you. There are truly no words to express our thanks -- but we will spend a long lifetime trying.
We will provide further updates in the days and weeks that follow and we welcome your continued prayers for recovery and for the final pathology reports to be even more positive than the preliminary ones!
We also welcome emails at our home account: johndavid.kuo@verizon.net and kim.kuo@verizon.net.
Much love,
David
Thursday, April 24, 2003 6:55 PM CDT The Miracle Surgeon
Our latest update from NIH continues with an awesome display of miracles… David’s surgery was extremely long – almost 9 hours. This is because of a massive ‘sheet’ of veins which explain why David is so smart, and also because his motor pathway took a unique turn. Therein lies our biggest miracle of this saga.
David and I worked hard to make the right choice between GW hospital, Johns Hopkins and NIH. Frankly, GW and Hopkins would have been easier choices – based on proximity and reputation. Plus, David would have to be awake during the NIH surgery- a daunting prospect for us both. Thankfully we had great peace that Dr. Fine, Dr. Park and NIH were the right choice.
Dr. John Park is one of the few surgeons in the country who is capable of doing tumor surgery with the patient awake. Thanks to this method, Dr. Park found that David’s motor pathway – which is typically a slanted line – took a sharp hook right. Had David not been awake to map and guide the surgeon’s work, he almost certainly would have been paralyzed in his right leg and arm. We believe the techniques suggested at Johns Hopkins and GW would have resulted in such paralysis, because there would have been no way for the surgeon to see the sharp curve in the motor pathway. That’s an awesome and frightful miracle to absorb and we are so grateful God guided us to this choice.
During the surgery David was in great spirits – playing rock, paper, scissors with the nurses. Lying in a head vice, locked on his left hip, with no food or liquids (even water to the lips) was difficult, but he didn’t experience nausea or other more serious problems.
Now for Mr. Smarty pants… entering and closing the skull / dura was extremely difficult because David had a tremendous ‘sheet’ of veins supplying a large amount of blood to the brain. Each of these had to be individually tied of off in the entry and exit phases of the surgery. Again, Dr. Park is unique in that he did all this work himself and did not pass what is usually routine prep / closing work to a resident.
After the surgery, Dr. Park was very pleased and sent David to SICU to rest. After a short post-surgery paralysis, David had great strength and mobility in his left leg an arm – which is absolutely a miracle. I sat by David’s side all night in the SICU, to watch over and take care of him. He was in more pain than we had expected and it was noisy, so neither of us got any sleep.
In the morning he got the post-surgery MRI, which showed what a tremendous job Dr. had done. Dr. Fine (head of the neurosurgery department at NIH) was raving about how absolutely excellent and astonishing Dr. Park’s success was. He estimated that 97 – 100f the tumor had been extracted.
David is exhausted and had very low points this morning – due to a mix of drugs, fatigue, lack of sleep and food. But as we gathered more strength and information, we feel very good about the success of this phase of the battle. We remain absolutely awestruck and grateful that we ended up at NIH and under Dr. Park’s fine care.
As always, the emails and messages sent by friends and family are sustaining and encouraging. All David wanted last night after surgery was for me to read him the messages and emails coming in. I thank so many of you for the food, flowers, CDs, movies and books you are sending – all of which are so deeply appreciated. And most, we cherish your prayers and support. Thank you for fighting this battle with us.
Much love
Kim
Thursday, April 24, 2003 5:10 PM CDT UPDATE FROM DAVID'S BOSS:
Hi friends. Here is a personal, verbatim message from Kim who asked Catharine to send this to each of you. She sent this yesterday at 9:09pm: "I sit by David in ICU this night. He is in a lot of pain, and all he wants to soothe it is to read the great messages, scriptures and encouragements coming in on email and web site. Thank you all so much. We cherish your prayers and support. David played rock, paper, scissors through the surgery, and now wants a good game of pda Scrabble. He is holding his marathon medal and continues to battle. Thank you all for being in the battle with us. Much love, Kim."
I am just back from a visit with David and Kim. They are extraordinary people, and are now pondering the "deep things of God" that have taken place in their lives. David looked great, all things considered, and is a real trooper. He had a sleepless night last night due to pain and the nurses constantly monitoring him in ICU. He is tired and weak and had his first meal today since Tuesday night. David had an MRI this morning and the surgeon and the doctor are extremely pleased and they feel David is doing excellently. The doctor's comments about the surgery were, according to Kim, "The surgeon did a spectacular job." Because the surgery was aggressive, David is a bit slow in the left leg and arm. He can walk around, but please pray for healing and good spirits. The pain has lessened somewhat today and they are hoping he can go home on Saturday. Kim has been by his side and maybe got an hour or two of sleep in a chair last night. She is remarkably strong and has been throughout.
They would love to see visitors throughout next week once they are home. They likely will unplug the phone in the room so David can get some much needed sleep. Kim's two top prayer requests: 1) They are sending out the tumor tissues to two top pathologists, but they won't get results for at least a week. So pray for patience and peace of mind during this waiting period, and for a good result (i.e. no malignancies). 2) Pray that there is nothing left of the tumor - it is likely they got all of the tumor but are not entirely certain. They don't think it is a good idea to have any one come visit at NIH. David is exhausted and they both have kind of hit a wall. They hope you will send messages to the web site(http://www.caringbridge.org/dc/davidkuo), and then make plans to visit when David is home. He will have weeks of recovery and I know would welcome a visit.
God bless you, Jim Towey
Wednesday, April 23, 2003 Here's the late evening update from David's office. We are in a state of cautious joy here in the Faith-based office! The surgery today appears to have been a success and David
appears to be on the road to full recovery! I say, "appears to be" because
David remains in ICU and will have one-on-one supervision all night to make sure no complications arise from today's surgery. But we are all breathing a big sigh of relief that the news from Kim, which she just received from Dr. Park, is so far, so, so good.
Kim and David are grateful beyond words for the tremendous outpouring of prayers and love that have been showered in their direction these turbulent days. It is not possible to look at David's condition ten days ago when he had his first seizure while driving a car at 50 mph, and how he and Kim miraculously survived the ensuing crash, and then how they learned he had a brain tumor, and then the surgery today, and not see the unmistakable hand - and mercy - of God at work.
Kim's update from NIH 8:00 p.m. The surgery began at 8 this morning and lasted for 8 and 1/2 hours. David had to be awake throughout the surgery, and the procedure began, with the surgeon, Dr. Park, isolating the seizure area of the brain. Then they proceeded to extract as much of the tumor as they could without doing permanent damage. Because the tumor was pressing against his motor pathway, David had to respond and move as requested by the surgeon so that they could get the maximum amount of the tumor out while not cutting into anything important. The surgeon told Kim that the tumor was positioned at a turn in the motor pathway and so they constantly tested David's motor skills as they extracted tumor tissue. A pathologist was consulted and looked at some of the tissue extracted and said that there were no "obvious malignancies, " which is also good news (they won't know for certain for 1-2 weeks as they do further testing to determine whether there were any malignancies or not). David was in great spirits throughout the surgery - he remained relatively comfortable, although he was still the entire day, with his head in a device that prohibited the slightest head movement. He was not permitted to eat or drink anything, and thankfully, David coped with that and did not have any nausea. It took the surgeon two hours to close David up, and David slept for a little bit of the time at the end. Initially after
the surgery, David showed signs of paralysis on his left side, but Dr. Park reported that this changed and he recovered feeling within a short time. Apparently that happens sometimes when brain surgery occurs near a motor pathway. Now there is some weakness on his left side, and that appears to be all.
David is awake right now, and thankful beyond words. He was a star today. So was brave Kim. David will be visited by Kim shortly and that will probably be the only visitor he has tonight.
We continue to have much to pray for on David's and Kim's behalf. We all are very relieved and will surely say prayers of thanks tonight for Dr. Park and all that transpired today, but we know that our prayers continue to be needed in the important days ahead. Don't let up!
David and Kim would love to have visitors tomorrow, and he will be returned to the room he was in last night at some point tomorrow, perhaps as early as 11. Also, you may want to pass on this site.
Kim wants every one to know how deeply touching and inspiring your expressions of friendship and endeavors in prayer have been. God bless you all. We will keep you informed of any new developments. Thanks again for your faithfulness.
Here's the 2:00 pm update from NIH. David is mid surgery and is doing well. They have isolated the tumor and the place of seizure. Right now Dr. Park is removing the tumor. We expect 2 more hours of surgery. He is awake, in good spirits and is bored to tears! He has so far beat the nurses in one game of rock, paper, scissors! Keep praying. Pray for Kim too. Updated by Heidi and Dan.
David has had a wonderful evening at NIH praying with many friends who have stopped by to support him. Later this evening, David had another seizure. In the morning we trust there will be an end to the seizures.
Pray for David as he undergoes surgery at 8:00 am on 4/23. Pray the doctor is able to get every bit of the tumor. Pray for David to have complete peace as he will be awake throughout the operation. Pray for Dr. Park. Pray for Kim and the family. Thanks, the David Kuo Support Team.
Monday, April 21, 2003 So many dear friends and family have sent messages, beautiful flowers, food, movies and books. You visited us in the hospital and shown amazing love and support. You bought us groceries, ran our errands and brought us dinner. We are both overwhelmed and so grateful for such amazing friends. Since we can’t share our hearts with cards and return messages, we just say thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We will emote more on this later, but we are most amazed by the outpouring of love and support and hope you all know how sustaining that is for us right now. Thank you. Love, Kim.
A Miracle of Safety – Saturday, April 12
I know many of you haven’t heard firsthand this amazing story of our car wreck last Saturday night, so I’ll post it here…
I remember a year ago David and I were speaking with a dear friend, asking why God didn’t do great ‘burning bush’ miracles anymore. She said, He does, but we just don’t believe them. Well, this is the greatest miracle I’ve ever witnessed or been a part of.
Saturday afternoon we returned from a trip to Nashville, rushed to a dear friend’s bridal shower and then off to a charity banquet. At 11:30, we jumped in the car exhausted and headed down Rock Creek Parkway. Somewhere north of P Street, David hollered ‘there’s something wrong with my leg!!! Kim! Kim!’ Our 45-mile per hour pace was quickly rising. David’s left leg had clenched back and his right leg locked the accelerator to the floor. By the time I looked up from my daze, we were heading at a 45-degree angle for the right stone retaining wall. So, I wrenched the steering wheel to the left – and although I thought we actually scraped against the wall we avoided it completely. I then jammed the car into neutral and tried to push his iron-locked leg off the accelerator.
By the time I looked up again, we were hurling down the wrong side of the road, into the oncoming lane of traffic, at least 70 to 80 miles per hour. David screamed another horrific “Kim!” or two, knowing full well he was causing this catastrophe but having no control over his body. I wrenched the steering wheel to the right (circling around a taxi that we would have otherwise rear-ended). The wheel felt as if someone were pulling against me, but I successfully veered the car off the right side of the road, through the middle of the P Street on / off ramp. Thankfully, no other cars were nearby or at the stop sign. When we hit the median, it launched the car airborne and we landed on the far side, near the sidewalk. I jammed the car into park and got us stopped. Miraculously, the airbags didn’t go off or it would have smashed my arms or possible knocked me out since I was driving from the passenger side.
I dumped my purse and was dialing 9-1-1 from my cell phone as I ran around to David. He had long since gone silent, and was seizing horribly for another 2 –3 minutes. His jaw was locked, blood and saliva pouring from his mouth, eyes rolled back, arms and legs gripped. Of course, I didn’t know if he was having a stroke or what was happening. So I flagged a taxi and unlocked his jaw. We got a pencil wedged in his mouth so he would bite his tongue and held him until it was over. Then he went limp.
The taxi passenger was a chiropractor, so he held David’s head upright. David’s eyes were glassy and he was incoherent, head limp and mouth dangling open. That lasted until the paramedics came 10 minutes later. After they got David’s neck into a brace, they began yelling to relax him and explain what had happened. He had totally blacked out and was asking where we were and what happened. After they searched the car for drugs, I followed the ambulance in a police car to the hospital.
Most of you know that between 2 and 4 a.m. we found through various tests that David had some kind of tumor on the top right part of his brain. But the miracle of walking away from this car wreck, and that no one else was hurt by an out-of-control SUV speeding along at 70 to 80 miles an hour, is worth dwelling on.
Blessings,
Kim
Thursday, April 17, 2003 10:37 AM CDT As many of you know, last week David Kuo had a seizure due to a brain tumor in the front part of his brain.
He checked out of the hospital two days ago to go home to rest and to think about his surgical options. Since then he has had another seizure which he was not expecting but that the doctors did not find to be abnormal. Please pray today that David will not have any more seizures again.
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