Hydrocephalus is a condition in which you retain excessive fluids in the cavities in brain. Generally your skull provides excellent support and protection to your brain, but it can work against you in a hydrocephalus condition. The built-up pressure of the fluid has nowhere to go, starts compressing your brain and interfering with brain function.
And that is what is happening to my father. Several days ago he started snoring abnormally, and his response worsened. He has difficulty breathing. Yesterday they used a brain scanner and figured out what is going on.
Currently we are observing carefully.
Until early 2002, my father was running a small construction company in Japan. After the economic bubble burst and in the following turmoil, it was not an easy task. It was then when he had his first stroke. Someone found him collapsed on the floor of a parking lot, and called 911. The stroke left him half-paralyzed.
My relatives were busy closing down his company. As a small-sized company with about 10 employees, there was no way continuing it without him. I flew back to Japan and did what I could for 3 weeks.
Afterwards, he and my mother started living in a city apartment. The place is barrier free and better equipped with wheelchair-friendly things.Their lives changed quite a bit. He enrolled in a rehabilitation program, and was showing a certain degree of recovery.
On 2006 summer, he had another stroke at night. When my mother woke up in the morning, he was drenched in sweat. It was serious, and most relatives and doctors believed he wouldn't make it. I flew back, thinking that I would have to take care of his funeral as his first born son.
When I got to Narita airport 3 days after the first phone call, I was surprised to know he was still hanging on. I took a bullet train and arrived at hospital.
I went to his bedside in the Intensive Care Unit and met him. Until then, his condition was a mess. The stroke near his brain stem badly affected his ability to automatically regulate basic body functions such as breathing and maintaining body temperature and heart rate. His heart rate was keeping around 180-200/minute, alarmingly tough on the heart.
Then something unforgettable happened. When I called him, he cried. Tears came down from his closed eyes. His rough breathing suddenly turned calmer, and his heart rate decreased to an acceptable rate. And he slipped into a calmer sleep.
Everyone thought he had been waiting for my arrival. It was one of the most emotional moments in my life.
His condition fluctuated wildly during following weeks. It was emotionally tough on my mother, and physically tough on him. After another 3 weeks, I left there to get back to work.
The 2006 stroke took away his ability to move around completely, so we needed to leave him in the hospital. It was far beyond my mother's ability for care. Communication was severely limited. We were uncertain whether he was recognizing us.
Last year, on 2011 autumn, I got married and traveled to Japan . I went to see him once again. When I called him with my new wife, he responded. Much clearer than usual. He shook his right hand as hard as he could. His eyes seemed focused. We were certain that he heard us. I am glad that I could show him my wife.
Now his response is down. To relieve hydrocephalus, usually they surgically insert shunts and drain the fluid. But doctors and my mother are reluctant to perform the operation concerning whether such an invasive operation is beneficial at this stage. We are resorting to the use of internal medicine and observing, leaving it to God business.
His story is not over yet. Like Frodo and Sam said in the Lord of the Rings, his story is a part of bigger story that continues. I don't know how the story goes. Such is life.
