Update April 2

Connie’s new home at Cortland Park

A New Transition

Connie is back in Cortland

Co-written by Mia & Luka

Mia: As always, we appreciate your patience when it comes to these posts. The in between times are slower and more stable (thank god) so when there's no news, that's good news.

The last few weeks have been a new transition. In the February meeting with Mom's care team at Cayuga, we learned that she had stopped making enough progress to continue Rehab eligibility. This jump started the logistics to move her from Cayuga to somewhere in Cortland. The news hit our family hard. This means that a full recovery isn't in the cards for Mom. The team at Cayuga Ridge helped Mom prepare for a transition to a new place. She's fully eating on her own. She continued speech therapy with her incredible therapist. And Dad began the process to move Mom to Cortland. Our dream was to have Mom at Guthrie's long-term facility, but of course the waitlist is endless. Between Dad and Luka's fortitude, Mom moved yesterday to Cortland Park on Clinton Avenue.

Having Mom in Cortland is a huge relief for our family. Dad doesn't need to make the 45 min drive to Ithaca daily. He can go be with her between errands or for shorter periods of time, if he likes. He can even go at nighttime and tuck her in if he wants. They can have better quality time together more frequently (and the rest of us don't have to worry about the long drives on Ithaca roads during unpredictable weather). Dad can also bring mom food from her favorite Cortland places. I definitely envision take-out dinner dates from Hairy Tony's, Melodyland, and Green Arch in the future.

Jake has been checking in on Dad frequently. He came home for Dad's birthday in February and went to dinner with Dad and some of the Starmer cousins at the Hollywood. He's got a few more weekends planned this spring to help break up the time. Luka and Michelle have taken extended leave to spend a few weeks in Cortland with Dad to help him get the house prepped for summer.

The last seven and a half months feel surreal. It's one of those things that you read about on a blog for someone you sort of know on facebook - but you never think you'll be writing the blog updates yourself. It certainly is a perspective shift. But we are navigating through this path we haven't traveled because of each of you. As always, the village of people who love our family have been inviting dad to coffee and dinner dates, helping him get some housework done, and driving with him to Ithaca these last few weeks to keep him company. These small gestures of love keep us all going and remind us that we're all in this together.

If you still live in Cortland - or if you plan to travel there this summer and want to see Mom, we warmly welcome you to do so! Come with a story or a memory. Share photos of your families. Tell her stories from Smith School or piano lessons or projects you've worked on. And watch those eyes. You'll see the sparkle happen when she remembers and boy that's a feeling unlike any other.

You can find Mom in room 119 at Cortland Park (193 Clinton Ave, Cortland, NY 13045).

No need to call or coordinate plans ahead. Having her "home" in Cortland means that she is far more accessible to the people who love her most and guests are welcome any time.

Sending all of you big love.

Mia

From Luka:

While we were working on figuring out where Mom would end up in Cortland, untangling crossed wires from administrators, strategizing transport, setting up new paperwork, etc, Mom’s care team at Cayuga Ridge never stopped doing everything to keep her moving and smiling. Most didn’t know that the move was actually in place until April 1st when it was time to say goodbye. Dad told me that so many of them came out to help her into the car, and many of them had tears in their eyes. It’s all just another testament to the impact Mom makes on people wherever she goes.

Dad told me he watched and witnessed Mom’s reaction throughout the drive from Tompkins County, through the rolling hills and into Cortland, a place so familiar yet so distant in the tunnels of her memories. She hasn’t really seen much in the last eight months besides her bedroom window and a VERY occasional stroll outside (it’s been a cold winter for them!). Mom’s speech is in a limited place right now; it oscillates. We’ve gotten to understand the nuances of sparkles in her eyes. Her ability to comprehend and articulate the present moment is not always clear, but it’s obvious when she’s feeling strong emotions.

Dad and I talked for a long time last night after he got home. He was so gracious to be able to spend time with her, eat lunch together, explore the new digs. He went to his house to grab a few more things she might need, and it dawned on him, he could just go right back there to bring them to Mom!

I’m just reiterating from what Mia wrote above, but being able to get two hours of driving time back in his day is going to change everything in both of their qualities of life.

So now we look forward and move onward. We need to devise the new flow keeping her active cognitively and physically. We need to lock in music therapy. We need to explore things like eastern medicines and massage therapy. I know Michelle and I can’t WAIT to be back to be with her.

We promise to keep these blogs coming. Again thanks for the patience, and thanks for the love.

Luka

Update Feb 27

A drawing of Connie at the piano I traced and shaded on my iPad. A print of it sits at her bedside. A birthday gift for my dad Feb 12.

It’s been a long time since posting here. But time is strange. January 2025 felt like the longest year of my life, and now February is over.

Right now Mom is in a delirious post-anesthesia rest after a surgery to put in a semi-permanent catheter. It’s tough for Dad to experience because she’s not awake, yet she sees and reacts to people and images in front of her closed eyes. He will sit with her as much as he can. The doctors say this will wear off.

We’ve had two meetings with the doctors in the last couple months. The first one they feigned the positive outlook at the possibility of eventual progress. But most of her specialists and people that worked with her day-to-day were not present. Some of those people don’t even work there anymore.

The next meeting we had with them, earlier in February, the team said outright that she is “plateauing;” That she’s nearing a point where she won’t make many strides. This has been tough to swallow because she’s not “herself” yet. Certainly she has aphasia, where she can’t remember words. But stranger than that, she still has many delusions and confabulations.

She doesn’t have a sense of self awareness. She’s not able to think and talk about the last six months from an objective perspective. She has memories. She will surprise you with what she can pull from the ether. And then she will tell you a made up story about going to the grocery store yesterday and the nice people she met.

It’s sad because we haven’t been able to truthfully tell her that her favorite Aunt Margie recently passed away in her 90s. We didn’t tell her when beloved Auntie Jennie passed away last month. We’re protecting her from reality, when all we want in this world is for her to be based in reality.

My biggest disappointment is that since November when I was there, she hasn’t gone near the piano. I watched the piano reconnect pathways in her brain. I saw her use two hands and sing. But the care team told us this wasn’t “measurable.” It’s not part of their practice. And she hasn’t had the ambition, even when Dad and her bandmates ask her if she wants to play.

So since she’s on this plateau, and the rehabilitation folks have run out of tricks and ideas, the time has come to begin the process to move to 24-hour care, close to Dad, close to family, close to friends, close to the home in Cortland, New York. But she isn’t going home, so to speak. She’s going to a skilled nursing facility. The internet ratings are quite low for all of the local options. But other people I trust say they’re great places. Certainly whatever daily “rehabilitation” that’s been in her practice is going to suffer. But in exchange for more visitors. More friendly familiar faces. More family. Maybe more outings. Maybe more music.

She’s on some waiting lists. We’ll inform you when a plan is solidified.

I’ll be home with her for the month of June.

Love you all. I’ll give an update when we know what the next chapter brings. We’ll let you know when she’s more herself after this recent surgery.

-Luka

Update January 4

Grandkids playing Candyland With Gaga (Connie)

Happy New Years everyone,

Michelle and I weren’t home for the holidays this time.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad were surrounded with their loving kids and grandkids quite a lot.

My sister Mia wrote a beautiful post to catch everyone up on what’s happening with Mom. It’s still going at a one-step-forward-half-a-step-backwards pace.

The love and support around Mom and Dad are immeasurable. And hope persists.

Here’s from Mia:

Growing up, Christmas was always extra magical in the Starmer house. And it wasn't because the lights on the tree twinkled and blinked rhythmically; nor was it because Mom built a porcelain decorative snow village that grew to be so big that she contracted a 5' x 3' piece of plywood as the foundation; nor was it the cookies we'd bake or the candles we'd wrap to secretly bring over to neighbors or the thoughtful design of the outside lights. Christmas was so special because Mom would start planning her Christmas concert in September - and with it, the excitement of the holidays had a slow and momentous build! Any of us kids -- and Dad too! -- would recommend songs and help Mom think through the production of the ever-epic annual Smith School concert. Mom was the coolest music teacher. She'd pull from the Beatles, Tom Chapin, Simon and Garfunkel, and the Celtic Women (to name a few). My favorite, one year, was Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young -- and I heard it just before our flight landed in Syracuse this year. We were so lucky to grow up surrounded by harmonies and melodies, rhythm and blues. 

This December, Heidi Shelley, the current Smith School music teacher, arranged and conducted "Soup" by John McCutcheon and dedicated it to Mom before her kiddos began singing. I'm so glad Heidi shared this video clip with us (but the website is having trouble loading the video on this page. very sorry). Her student's crushed it with the same December-excitement that I remember Mom's student's having. And man, did this December smell like winter at our house, too <3 

I know you are here for the update on Mom and not the walk down memory lane, so I appreciate you humoring me until now. 

My family and I arrived in Central New York on December 11th and stayed through January 1st. We saw a lot of the highs and lows with Mom during the three weeks we were in town. Sometimes she was really chatty and full of stories and memories. Other times, she was very soft spoken and observant, taking it all in, or maybe just lost in thought. My two boys brought their Gaga some games to play at Cayuga Ridge, and we had a blast playing Candy Land early on in the trip. We had a manicure day (and my little one Everett joined in on the nail painting!). And then for Christmas, Mom's two oldest grandchildren, Ellie and Oliver, designed a basket of skin care goodies for Mom to have by her bedside. We celebrated Christmas with Mom a few days early, and she was dressed up for the occasion. She got the coziest purple blanket from Jake, Mindy, and Ellie (and she's been cuddled up in it every time we've seen her since!!). She also got an Ithaca College School of Music sweatshirt from Luka and Michelle -- one of those thick college sweatshirts that just beg to be worn when it's cold and snowy. And my favorite? Her good friend gifted her RBG socks! 

Christmas Day was a bit of an unexpected twist. Cayuga Ridge arranged for Mom to be medically transported to the Cayuga Medical Center. They were worried she had an infection -- which they were spot on. She did. And Cayuga Ridge caught it so quickly, and we were both impressed and extremely grateful. The infection needed some careful monitoring and IV antibiotics, so she spent a few days at Cayuga Medical Center and got back to Cayuga Ridge on New Years Eve, all cozy and ready to ring in 2025. 

Whenever we'd go see mom, we'd share pictures of the kids' adventures, tell her stories from our trip (we visited her hometown near Lake George!), and share memories. Sometimes she was up to talk about all of it and sometimes she just wanted to be a listener. Her medical team -- every last one of them! -- are so encouraging and helpful. They're working hard with Mom to help her build her strength, organize her thoughts, retrieve her memories, and find stable ground. And the biggest MVP of all of this is Dad, who is collecting the miles between Cortland and Ithaca to be with mom every day. They read together, listen to music, watch movies, talk about the grandkids, and even share meals (she loves tapioca pudding that dad brings her). Dad is crushing it as her rock and as ours.

Folks are asking about ways to be helpful -- and first I'll say -- on behalf of the family -- thank you thank you thank you. You ARE being helpful. The cards, the wishes, the texts, the hugs, the visits, the meals for Dad, the coffee dates, the offers to drive with him, and shoveling his driveway -- we are so grateful to have this village to support us <3  Your love languages are wrapping up our family in care and support. Thank you so, so much.

Ways to support Mom and Dad

Your "just thinking of you!!" messages are like hugs just when we need it <3 Thank you for sending those to each of us and to dad. These are more than enough, and we are so grateful you're thinking of our family.

Mom loves a short visit and Dad appreciates knowing when someone is heading up to spend some time with her. It helps, especially, on Saturdays when Dad takes the day off from driving to take care of errands and chores around the house.

For those who are bringing Dad leftovers from your dinner or doggie bags from your favorite restaurant -- he has been fully enjoying this. Shoutout to the slices of pie and winter treats. He loves those, too. Throw away containers or aluminum foil are best so he doesn't have to figure out which tops belong to which tupperware bottoms.

Anyone have a membership to the Cortland State Student Life Center? Send Dad a text and see if he'll meet you there! He's a morning gym guy -- and likes to go around 8:30/9:00. While I was home, Dad and I were going together. It's the coolest facility, and if you are a member (or you want to check it out with Dad because he can bring a guest for $5!), send Dad a message. 

Thinking you might go to the CHS basketball game? Plans to go watch Cortland State men's hockey? Send dad a text and see if he'll go with you. We had a blast at CHS the weekend before Christmas watching Jeremy Milligan coach his team in a high-energy win against Skaneateles. Dad loved it! And Cortland has a rich sports culture for those cold winter evenings. 

As always -- Dad, Jake, Luka, and I, along with our families, are incredibly grateful for your love and help and thoughts and good energy and check-ins. We are hopeful that the chapters in 2025 will bring more highs than lows and more stability than uncertainty.

Update December 4

Mom’s puppy’s paws playing piano

Thanksgiving was a whirlwind of planes, trains, and automobiles for Michelle and Me. Comically chaotic at times (actually, I lost my cool more than once). On our way to see Mom, we were set back with an overnight delay in Denver (the silver lining: an impromptu and festive night with Cortland kin, Johnny and his wife). We were a day late and lost the chance to have Thanksgiving with Connie. But instead, we set up Dad’s Christmas tree and decorated the house for the holidays. Our Friends filled our table with all the makings of a great meal, and we were able to enjoy it with my brother Jake and his family, my dad, and more friends who are family. The whole 3-day weekend was way too short. The words below are kind of a play-by-play of our time with Mom:

Friday we finally got to visit her at Cayuga Rehab. She was seated at lunch with a happy crew of other residents. She was already full of smiles and social grace before she even saw us. Then tears of joy recognizing us. Lots of hugs and kisses and laughter.

We moved to our own table. I helped her construct perfect bite after perfect bite onto her fork (a little bit of this and that to combine the best flavors). She ate almost the whole plate.

After lunch, I casually asked if she wanted to play the piano sitting in the dining room, and she said YES! She said it almost as casually as I had asked.

I kept making the reference to Charlie Brown Christmas where Lucy asks Schroeder, “can you play Jingle Bells?” and he plays all these classical and jazzy variations, and she keeps being like, “no no, like jingle bells and deck them halls and all that stuff,” until he finally begrudgingly just plunks out the most basic melody, and she’s like, “THAT’S IT!”

So that’s the variation I started with, the real simple Jingle Bells. But, and some of you will cringe to learn this about me, I’m not very good at the piano. I kept getting to the arpeggio down that finishes the song, and I kept getting it wrong, despite Mom’s knowing smile.

She reached over, met the song right in the middle, and finished the notes I couldn’t. We laughed! I cried actually.

Then we played it a few more times. I tried to play the Peanuts theme song, one Mom’s taught to dozens of piano students over the decades.

She had it in there, alright. But her left hand is a bit weaker and less coordinated. So I played the left hand, she played the right. There’s syncopation that requires teamwork. I don’t think I held up my part of the duet very well, but we made music for sure.

We took Mom back to her room. I played for her the video Ithaca College had made upon her retirement. *See post from September 5th if you want to re-watch. She was full of tears the whole time, seeing her old classroom and the students on stage at Smith Elementary. And then at the end, her former students speak directly to her like, “Mrs. Starmer, thank you for being such an inspiration…” Her reaction was so authentic. Those messages and memories got so deep under the fog and frustration of having to relearn everything right now.

We tucked her in.

Saturday morning started with my brother heading to the emergency room in Cortland with an excruciating kidney stone. That was only like the 5th wrench we’d been thrown this weekend alone. He’s good now, and we handled it because at this point our family can handle anything. But it meant I had to go see Mom on my own.

When we were there the day before, I sorted out with the front desk at Cayuga what we needed to do to be able to bring Mom’s little doggies in to visit her (she hasn’t seen them since August). A quick phone call to the vet, and I had all the paperwork we need to bring four-legged visitors.

So on Saturday, I bundled up Willa, one of her two puppies, and we drove to Ithaca. I signed us both in, and we pranced down the hallway to find Mom. The moment they reunited was another just unbelievable wave of emotional catharsis, recognition, joy, tears. I don’t have the poetics to really recount it properly. Mom’s heart with completely full. Her son and her puppy.

Mom reunited with Willa

I also brought her one of her porcelain houses from a holiday village collection she usually puts up this time of year. She remembered it fondly. She said it reminded her of one of the houses she and Dad lived in long ago. And she remembered the names of two of her kittens they used to have. Amazing how nostalgia can dig deep in the cognitive trenches, no matter where you’re at.

The three of us ate lunch together. Willa, the dog, attracted a ton of attention from the other residents. More like she radiated happiness and twinkled it around like it was an endless fountain of magic sparkles. Lots of joy wherever we were.

Mom is really sweet with the other residents. The people there are a wide range of ages and abilities. She doesn’t look around and see geriatrics or health conditions. She greets everyone with genuine kindness and words. For her, being in a nursing rehab isn’t a depressing reminder of her own state of being. I’ve been reading a book on strokes, and loss of ego and judgement is one thing that can occur. More on that book later.

Okay, so we finished another lunch. Mom chowed pretty much the whole plate again. Again, I suggested the piano, and again no hesitation.

The dining room was empty. I wheeled her up, and this time she reached for the different books on top of the upright. There was Mozart and some other canonic classical composers. But there was also a thick book of Christmas songs, probably 100 different songs from church songs to Frosty the Snowman and everything in between.

She flipped to the table of contents, and we picked out the first one. I don’t even know what it was, honestly, because I was flabbergasted that she just got right to it. She was instantly sight reading the melodies and sight reading the words written below as she sang along. Both hemispheres of the brain working in concert. Two hands and a voice. And I just sang along. We sang every word together.

Then she joined in her left hand. I mentioned before, the pinky and ring on her left side isn’t coordinated at this time, but she had the clever wherewithal to modify to play the root bass note with one finger when she had to.

Now I can show you the full picture that was cropped from the main picture above:

Mom and puppy. Three hands on the piano.

She played two handed. She sight read. She remembered how to follow all the codas. There were accidentals and black keys and modulations. Sure, she was playing the standard Christmas songs that we all have semi-stored for annual recall. But it was something special. And festive, given the time of year!

I think we played for like 30 minutes before Willa and I took her back to the room. She was tuckered out again. I helped her into bed. She snuggled the doggie for a while more before I turned the lights low. And Willa and I left.

My heart is pretty heavy that I can’t go do this with her every day right now. I know my presence is especially powerful. She and I share music in a very special way. And I know I have some of the keys that can unlock her cognition and memory, her inspiration and her motivation. Not that my dad doesn’t have all of the love and comfort she could ever want. And I’m not insinuating that her friends and visitors don’t bring her endless positivity and memories and courage. They’re all so important for her right now. And I’m certainly not saying that the care team isn’t doing everything tried and true. But Mom would be the first to tell you about the special kinship between a mother and her kids. I was so grateful for every short second with her last weekend.

I’m working and plotting how to be able to be there more soon. Not sure if it’s in the super near term, or as the horizons start to clear into focus, or soon as in this coming summer, but I know I will be a bigger part of this journey for her.

Before I wrap, and thanks for always reading this far down, I know it gets meandering. And honestly I’m sugar coating over some of the loops and deficits that she’s certainly experiencing, but those are all temporary. I just want to share a book I’m listening to right now. It’s called “My Stroke of Insight” by Jill Bolte Taylor. The author is a brain scientist who experienced a stroke. The book is an anecdote straight from the source of a person who recovered from a massive brain injury, and it’s written through her scientific lens of what happened. It’s helped me understand a few things in a new light. It’s helped me have more empathy, vocabulary, and wonder of how this all can be.

If you don’t have the time to read the book, give her TED talk a watch.

Thanks everyone. Talk soon.

Luka.

PS I have an idea brewing up my sleeve (how’s that for a mixed metaphor). I’ll compose it soon. I’ll be asking for all of your help and collaboration.

Update November 22

A late autumn visitor to Connie’s room

Hello friends and family,

There’s snow in Upstate New York and there’s snow in the Sierra Nevada. Blustery as can be.

But I come here to warm your hearts with good updates on the Connie front.

We had a (virtual) family meeting with her care team today at Cayuga Nursing and Rehab. Mom is doing HOURS of rehab every day. She’s starting to walk on her own (sometimes with help). She’s also working on the treadmill and other more intensive workouts in short bursts. Her PT, Doctor Manoj Sharma, said, “I love working with Connie.” He share’s our belief that she can work her way to full independence, no matter the distance.

He told us that there is a man who comes to play the piano at the rehab. Mom joyfully listens every time. My dad said Connie even sat down at the piano and played part of a sonata from memory. However, she hasn’t really felt like playing the piano much. It might be just too tough to address at this point, given that before this whole ordeal, she was working VERY hard and playing VERY often and was at such a high level of musicality. (I mean that with no exaggeration). But again, there were moments when we weren’t sure what level of dexterity she would ever regain, so plunking a sonata from memory feels like a big achievement.

*As an aside, Michelle and I are getting a piano at our house in Reno. We both want to work to play new songs (or old!) for Mom whenever we see her forever forward.

Next up on the list of achievements: eating! Connie has begun to eat “mechanically softened foods.” Not puréed like from a blender, but just squished enough with a fork to make it easier. Sweet potatoes, pudding, chopped up meat balls were a few things thrown on the list. She’s regaining her appetite, slowly. This is all still VERY new, but promising, according to Mia who talked to her nutritionist. Michelle and I will be home to Cortland next week for Thanksgiving with Jake and Mindy and Ellie, too. We’ll bring her some yummy stuff. Part of connecting her brain to her stomach is the practice of eating together. We take that for granted all the time. (I know I do, and I’m accusing you, too.) So try to take a break and look across the table from whomever you’re eating with next to soak in that moment — tastes, sounds, good company, chewing, table settings and table wares. So much coordination involved. So much happening voluntarily and involuntarily; cognitively but on autopilot. lol Every bite you eat is a damn miracle.

Mom’s cognition is still a little all over the place. She can get off track or off topic easily. She mixes up words. Some things that are easy, if she thinks too hard about it, she can’t do it. Some things that are difficult, she will surprise you with and do it just like she’s done for 70 years. She’s come so far in the last few weeks. The doctors say there is a really recognizable amount of progress that will happen in the first four to six months. We say, keep the progress coming

I’ve talked to her on the phone a few times. There are moments were are communicating with perfect clarity. Sounds and feels like any phone call we’ve ever had. And then there are whole moments lost to abstraction and streaming consciousness.

She has mood swings. Not everyone has witnessed them. She’s always full of joy and gratitude when she has her visitors. But the nurses have seen them. The specialists have seen hints of them. Dad has seen them, certainly. Traumatic brain injuries are a trip, man. Just a metaphor to anything. Some things and nothing make sense at the same time…

What else — OH I wanted to share some moments that happened in the last month with past students of Mrs. Starmer:

Most recently, former student Adam Decker, sang the national anthem at the Cortaca Jug Game. He’s had an illustrious music career, but when I told Mom about him singing it she perked up the way she always does when she hears the successes of former students. Mom is an Ithaca College Alum (as am I, as is Adam!) Dad’s a Cortland faculty alum. Mom taught at C-State, too for that matter. It wasn’t a great day to be a Bomber this year.

A tribute to Constance Starmer from Lisa Frare

Another former student and life-long friend of our family, Lisa Frare, sent this photo she added to a dia de los muertos ofrenda at a symphony concert (I assume San Francisco Symphony, but Lisa travels the world, so it could be any symphony, honestly). Lisa is a great musician, singer, and has great taste. She took piano from Connie from 4th grade onward. To this day and long before Mom’s aneurysm she gives Connie so much genuine love and gratitude, laughs and great banter. I mean, how are all these people still so connected to their elementary music teacher? Obviously Lisa and I are forever friends, but the strength of connection, founded on music, between my mother and so many of her students over the years never ceases to give me pause.

And one more former student and gem of a human being is Caleb Wright. Caleb and his whole family are some standouts in my Mom’s long music career. Just ask her.

Caleb has reached out a bunch about my Mom since August.

He sent me the photo above with the following message on November 4: “Hey man! I hope all is well. I have a friend who does tattoos and I got this tattoo of a music note on my hand in honor of your mom and all that she means to me! She brought outa confidence in my music talents and simply just a love for music I never knew I could have! I had no idea today was her birthday so that's actually so cool! Happy birthday to your mom!”

I’ve enjoyed being in touch with Caleb. This man is an athlete, a coach, an author, a podcaster, more... I know he’s impacting another generation with his leadership and empathy the way his mentors and role models have helped shape him. And the fact that he has time to reflect on my mom … His messages have given me the chills multiple times. Look up his book!

Alright folks. That’s a lot of typing. I’ve sorta had this blog open for the last few days and just keep sitting down and trying to hit publish, but then I get a little further. but then I get distracted… Thank you all for your well wishes. They’re constant, they’re heartfelt.

The next writing will be from some in-person observations for the first time since September! We’re going bring her motivation and music, stories and laughter, and pie…

Happy Thanksgiving yall. Hug each other tightly. Tight as you can. A second or two longer than last time you hugged this person. And then do it to the next. Lots of eye contact that the dinner table. lol. Hang your politics on the coat hanger at the door (I don’t have to remind you). And no shoes on the carpet.

Cheers,

Luka

Oh one more anecdote from this week: Our good friend Jeff Connor is an extremely talent musician, song writer, performer — the whole package. He lives in South Lake Tahoe (kinda. he’s on the road these days), but he’s from Skaneateles, New York. My parents caught one of his shows a couple summers ago. The show was memorable for them. For all of us.

This week he performed in Reno at this intimate living room gathering that happens monthly at another friend’s house. He barely knew anyone else in the room besides us, and he knocked everyone’s socks off (HEY, what did I tell you about the shoes on the carpet?!)

A couple songs in, he dedicated a song to my mom— One he'‘s written. It’s a song from a boy to his mother. It brought a few people to tears. Mostly me. The power of music, man.

I asked Jeff to record it into a voice memo so I can play it for Connie when we get to her. And tell her this story.

Update October 30

A hot air balloon in Central New York on my Dad’s way home from visiting Mom

Hi yall,

Woof. Been a while since I’ve gotten to write here. Michelle and I have been all over the place lately. I think Connie calls it “galavanting.” (I have a different blog if you want to keep up with the galavanting. It’s called instagram lol.) But you wanna hear about Connie, and boy do I have some improvements to share.

When I last left you, Mom was at “squeeze-if-you-can-hear-me” level of communication.

A couple weeks ago I was at home in Reno at my lunchtime. Dad Facetimed me out of the blue to say hi to Mom. She was alert, responsive, receptive. I was wearing my apron and chopping vegetables, and I said into the phone, “Mom, we’re making white chicken chili.” And she said, “Mmm. White Chicken Chili.” My Dad’s hat almost popped off in his jolt of surprise.

So for a short while her vocabulary was “Yes,” “No,” and “White chicken chili.”

Throughout October, she’s had wonderful visits from her friends Dina, and Tracy, and John, and Jody, and others. My brother, Jake, has been there multiple times in the last few weeks bringing her lots of love and encouragement.

As a family, we met with the entire care team (this was a little while back). They had oodles positivity to bring to the zoom meeting. Maybe they were just trying to match the uppity… (no, I mean UPLIFTING!) level of work-from-home etiquette displayed by my sister who was managing the online meeting ordeal. My dad was at first a little suspicious that maybe the care team were all laying it on too thick. Maybe they were celebrating mom’s small improvements a little too voraciously. I mean, she could barley get out of bed with the help of 3 people and walk a couple steps before nearly collapsing. But her care team sees EVERY step as a milestone.

When he was there, Jake witnessed her on the recumbent bike as part of her PT and walking using parallel bars. Recently she’s level’d up to using a walker and is pushing herself all the way down the hallway. Dad said she has a big smile the whole time.

I’ve facetimed with her the last two days in a row. She has a LOT of vocabulary now (compared to earlier in October, at least). She has all of our names. She says “I love you.” She can track the entire conversation. She doesn’t drive the conversation… yet.

Dad’s been taking her outside in the sunshine. They’re reading together every day. I know that when she has her people around her, she’s motivated to work the on the parts of her recovery that are hardest.

HER BIRTHDAY is coming up. November 4th! Dad has decided to decorate the heck out of her room. If anyone has any little decorative this or that, feel free to send it over to her before next Monday. Flowers, garlands, photos, plants, whatever will add some color and memory to her room. I pasted the new address below:

Cayuga Rehab and Nursing

Connie Starmer Room 127

1229 Trumansburg road

Ithaca, NY 14850

My busy life doesn’t show any signs of slowing down (I wish it would), but Michelle and I are making plans to be back in Upstate New York for Thanksgiving. The speech pathologist said Mom might be eating solid food by then. Michelle would love to make her a pie. Mom loves pie. And the only one who can make a pie almost as good as Connie is Michelle.

So yeah, the care team is probably laying on the positivity pretty thick. But just look at the amount of progress from one blog update to the next. The road isn’t getting any shorter, but every step is a step forward.

Love to you all.

Luka

Update October 7

Mums and October decorations for Connie’s room at Cayuga Medical

Hi Everybody,

This update is full of a flurry of micro improvements for Connie,

Mom is settled into her new digs at Cayuga Nursing and Rehab. Dad has her digital frame up and running. The specialists there say it’s important to decorate her room with photos and items that she remembers. Nostalgia and memory are really important for the brain.

He’s also reading to her when he’s there — books of hilarity and one’s she’s read before. I think the Harry Potter series is in progress.

Her responsiveness has been slow, but it’s happening. Last week during individual Facetime calls with all three of her kids, she woke up and recognized who was on the video line. There was a unmistakable sparkle in her eyes, and the faintest of smiles. She even tried to whisper something in response to all the love and adoration I was sending her. We were each texting and calling each other afterwards like, “guess what just happened!” That improvement alone has been so heartening for us.

Dad said he’s even tried out a few of his jokes on her. She raised her eye brows half in surprise and half in disapproval, which is what she usually does when he has bad jokes, so it’s good to know that hasn’t changed.

Her friend, Jody Creeden, has been bringing her flowers and gifts, including natural essential oil perfumes. Olfactory sensory experiences are powerful to wake up the deep compartments of the mind.

When I called on Sunday, Jody was in there with my dad. I was on speaker phone, and Jody kept asking mom to squeeze her hand if she recognized my voice or understood parts of my stories, and every time she would give Jody a big squeeze.

This week she will continue her PT, OT, and speech. They are working with her to get her upright and in the wheelchair so she can get outside to enjoy sights and smells of peak autumn atmosphere in the Finger Lakes. She’s doing lots of activities and exercises to start to sharpen her responses, thinking, speaking, etc.

It’s a long road, but we’re on it. We’re movin’.

I’ve been sending my dad recordings of my mom playing piano that we’ve done over the years. He said she’s recognizing her piano playing and the songs. Here is one below of mom playing on stage at Ithaca College on May 29, 2019.

Thank you all again for staying in tune with Connie’s recovery. The love and support from all her family and friends are going to continue motivating and encouraging her every single day. She’s always had discipline and determination, practice and work ethic. Those are important traits more than ever.

With love,

Luka

PS Jody and I were talking about how dogs feel always feel comfortable and cozy with Connie. So below are a couple images of Mom getting loved on by big dogs.

Update September 27

Cayuga Nursing and Rehabilitation

Hi all,

Thanks for your patience in the long space between writings. In my life, so many things have happened that the last ten days have felt like a blink of an eye. I’ve already been married a week, for goodness sake. In short, the wedding ceremony was beautiful, and we threw a music festival in the high desert of deep eastern Nevada where my wife grew up. We were able to include my Dad and my brother, Jake and his family, and a few other family members via video feed. It’s been surreal experiencing the duality of the greatest joy in my life simultaneously as the most devastating sadness and worry.

But there are some big updates to share with you all on Connie’s front:

As of today, Mom is being transported to Cayuga Nursing and Rehabilitation in Ithaca, New York. It was a scramble to decide where she was going to end up because Upstate Medical didn’t have a bed for her and was ready to discharge her.

The drain in her brain is out, she’s stable, and she no longer needs to be in the ICU.

My sister Mia was able to correspond with Jeffrey Penoyer, a former student of mom, an Ithaca College alum, the son of mom’s long time colleague at Smith School, and gracefully, the Chief Operating Officer at Cayuga Medical Associates. That’s some awesome happenstance. That’s the power of a strong community.

He pointed us to folks at Cayuga Nursing and Rehab who have already provided our family with care and empathy, information and knowledge that this will be the best place for her right now as she begins subacute rehabilitation.

So today opens the next chapter in this recovery. As of writing this, she is being geared up to transport over there.

The facilities there are beautiful. The rehabilitation equipment is comprehensive. The campus is located with views of Cayuga Lake. The welcome packet said even her beloved puppies can come visit her eventually.

Moms condition right now is much different than when I visited her in late August. The seizures and strokes that complicated her ICU visit have left her without very much mobility. She isn’t able to speak currently. There are moments of tracking and recognition, but she has a long ways to go to regain her sharp cognition, motor function, and independence.

Yesterday I spoke with my favorite nurse at the Upstate ICU. She said Mom was tracking her. She said she saw mom react to music and photos from my wedding. Those are big strides from where she was upon first waking up from her sedation after the strokes and seizures. They will miss her.

We are going to continue on our path with trust and belief that she will regain the capacity to live a happy, loving, fulfilling life for many years to come.

I will give more updates on her new routine and condition as things unfold.

Loving you all.

Luka

PS we aren’t going to publish her room for cards and gifts just yet. You can share messages here and coordinate visits with my Dad until we’re familiar with the way things work at Cayuga.

Update September 17

Ron and Con at a CState Football Game a few years ago

I’m keeping this one short because it’s sad.

Mom has taken another set of steps backwards. She’s having more seizures. They’re going to put her under heavy sedation again to see if the medicine will work. She was extubated earlier this week, but now they’re going to have to intubate her again. They are going to have to perform a surgery to help her get her nutrition through her stomach. And the latest MRI is actually now indicating that she’s going to have some level of physical or cognitive deficit. No way to know until she wakes up.

We’re devastated. This is obviously on-going, and we’ll need to just see if the seizures can stop before we have any more idea about what will happen next. Dad is next to her today and as much as he can be right now. Reading to her, holding her hand, telling her how much we love her over and over. She’s in there. She knows it.

Also, this has been very excruciating for us, but this weekend Michelle and I are getting married out in Eureka, Nevada. Mom was obviously very excited to be part of it.

We’re going to go thru with the wedding because we’re already this far along, and honestly it’s just a frivolous party. I’ll be thinking of her and my Dad in every in-between moment, wishing I was hugging and holding them. But Mom’s already witnessed the love Michelle and I have for each other and our family. She knows we love her to the moon. We’ll do something extra special another time — for her and the others in our family who can’t make it all the way out to the middle of nowhereNevada to see it go down.

Anyway. I know you all are praying and hoping for Connie. Keep it going more than ever.

The updates will be light for the next week or so. I’m hoping I’ll have better news next time.

Loving you all.

Luka

Update September 13

The past week my sister Mia has been in Cortland with our dad. She’s done a ton for his health and his regiment. She is a powerhouse of momentum and motivation. I know it’s been a little while since I last posted about Mom’s condition. She has written a beautiful update

ICU: Day 26 (September 13)

Forward is a pace.

It's been a quiet week with little nibbles of progress, but forward is a pace, and we will take it. 

All last week (Sept 3-7), Mom continued to have seizures. They exhausted her, so when they would finish, she was sleepy and confused and would need to rest. That's where the last update on Sept 5th left off. 

Things didn't improve through the weekend. In essence, the anti-seizure meds were not working. On Sept 8th, her medical team decided to give her body and her brain time to rest. They intubated her and gave her a 48-hour ketamine drip. This therapy intended to give her brain a reset which would, they hoped, stop the seizures and set the conditions for her brain to respond to the anti-seizure meds. On Tuesday (9/10), the ketamine infusion concluded, and they weaned her off. She was still intubated and sedated, so they began the process of slowly pulling her out of sedation enough to get her to take over breathing on her own so they could pull out the intubation. As of last night (9/12), she was still intubated but had taken over breathing on her own. She also started to move her arm, which means she was coming out of sedation! And, even better news, the ketamine seemed to work; we haven't had any reports of seizures. So, like we said, forward is a pace, and we hope that our update later this weekend will have more good news!

I flew in on Monday (9/10) and spent the week helping Dad recharge and refresh. 

This is a marathon toward healing, not a sprint. Our focus with Dad is good sleep, healthy meals, and body movement to fuel his body, energy, and spirit so he can continue supporting Mom.

So many folks have brought over meals and cookies (he loves the cookies!) and cards. and they are all bundled with love. We are forever grateful to each of you for your outpouring of support for our family. As folks wonder what we might need, we ask you to think of our priorities with dad:  good sleep, healthy meals, and body movement. Asking Dad to breakfast or seeing if you can stop by after dinner for a cool autumn chat in the backyard or perhaps a walk around the block will refill his cup with good conversation and friendship. That's what he needs from all of us to provide balance and calm and healthy distraction. 

If you are wanting to bring food over for dad, we ask that you consider just sharing a portion of what you are already making for yourself that evening.  As general guidelines, if you want to bring over a dinner for Dad, we are respectfully asking the following:

- High protein and veg meals (we love the pastas, but he's gotten so much! Plus, the protein and veg fuel the body better for this endurance stuff!)

- One individual serving, or at most two 

- Delivered in a disposable container so he can toss it when it's done

If you want any more guidelines or to chat about what sorts of things he might enjoy, don't hesitate to reach out to me (mia.reisweber@gmail.com) and I will coordinate the best day to bring it over. 

Jake heads to Cortland mid next week to spend some time with Dad, and help us plan for the next phase, whenever Mom enters it.

Thank you for your continued love and thoughts and messages. We are so grateful to be part of such a global family.

Mia Riesweber

Update September 4

A moment from an impromptu recital we set up at Connie’s alma mater, Ithaca College.

It’s going to get worse before it get’s better.

That’s what they told us from the beginning. But honestly we’d seen nothing but progress so far — The assertion that she doesn’t have physical deficits ; The memory and speech being strong; The happiness she experiences having her family and friends around her.

Michelle and I witnessed a lot of good when we were there last week and through the labor day weekend.

As of now, she’s been in the ICU for 17 days. The minimum time in the ICU is 21 days. But it’s looking like she’s going to be there past that. And it’s not clear yet what’s next for her care.

This isn’t going to feel great to read, but this week Mom had a seizure during one of her PT sessions. She’s had a couple since then. The seizures have left her very weak and tired. She’s in what is called a postictal state, or the symptoms after the seizure, and it comes with confusion, drowsiness, hypertension, headache, nausea, etc.

Her eating is being assisted and her brain is being monitored by EEG. She still has the ventricular drain. My dad’s been by her side, and I know it’s really tough to see her like this. And he’s exhausted.

I talked with the nurse tonight. When Mom’s awake, she’s still able to follow commands like squeezing and wiggling toes. But she’s not speaking very much.

I’ve been waiting to get a call back from her doctor. I need more detailed answers on the results of her latest MRI and CT scans. Dad was told there’s likely no major brain damage as a result of the initial ruptured aneurysm. But without a doubt this week has felt like a setback.

The good news is she’s not having vasospasms in her brain which is what they’ve been concerned about, but these seizures are likely just a different set of issues related to everything.

Ugh. I wish I had a positive note to end on here. I just have to keep reminding myself and everyone that we were told it’s typical that things get worse before they get better.

I’ll write again as things start to turn around.

She’s been composing a lot of music lately, before all this. I think she’d be the first to tell you music isn’t always triumphant major chords. Right now we’re hearing the tension and dissonance in the bridge before the song resolves. Something like that.

Thanks everyone again for the cards and notes and gifts and positivity and prayers and love.

Luka

To give you something to smile about, the video below was made by Ithaca College when mom retired from 34 years teaching music. Such a wonderful career to look back on. The nurse tonight (one I hadn’t met yet) echoed all the other nurses — that she’s her favorite patient. She continues to have a positive impact on everyone who meets her.

Update August 30

All mom’s get-well cards and her digital frame of family pictures

We’re here!

Michelle and I flew in over night on Wednesday and came straight to Upstate Thursday morning. Mom was overjoyed to see us. The nurses said she kept asking when we were going to show up.

We found out from her nurses that she’s rather a celebrity on this floor. The team fight amongst themselves to be the one to be with her. They all know and love her personality and her stories.

We spent all morning with her, and then Daddyo showed up. Family around her is the best medicine.

We’ve known this, but we were able to witness it in-person: When her blood pressure is high and it’s pushing through her brain, that’s when her memory and cognition are the sharpest. Then mid day, they have her take a medication that stops the contractions of the blood vessels. This medication causes her blood pressure to drop, and so does her ability to stay focused.

When she tries to fall asleep, which she needs badly, they wake her up every hour to check her. This leads to delirium and exhaustion. Brutal cycle.

TODAY, August 30th I read her all of the notes of every get well card on her table. Pure joy. We brought mom her digital picture frame that rotates through thousands of photos we’ve all loaded on there. There’s pictures of the grandkids, the doggies and puppies, old pictures and new pictures, vacations and travels. She watches it and remembers all the stories around the photos and people.

I was there when her physical therapist came in. This lady was no bullshit. She needed to be a little stern to get Mom to focus and not watch the picture frame. But get this: I watched Mom sit up. I watched her stand up. I watched her move to a new chair in her room. I watched her stand up again. I watched her take steps forward. I watched her take steps backwards. I watched her stand on her tippie toes. I watched her take deep breaths and raise her hands above her head.

The PT said she has no significant weaknesses on either side of her body. She needs to walk! And walk she will. Walking will be a big part of next week, and from here on out.

Then the music therapist, Sierra, came in and played the guitar. Mom sang and remembered the word to Beatles songs with her. Like she IMMEDIATELY started singing and humming. And smiling so big. We obviously bragged about mom’s career as a music teacher. We showed Sierra some of the recorded songs that Mom played on piano at a recital she did in 2019 at Ithaca College. Sierra is going to come back with the choir on Tuesday. I told her to come by this room as often as she is here.

Anddd then a bunch of nurses and doctors came in. There was music, and bleeps and bloops, people talking over each other — a regular Friday party.

When they were gone. Things quieted down. Mom talked to Mia on the phone and gave her a very thorough round up of her busy day.

I talked to her case manager. We started thinking about all the different scenarios that will happen over the next few weeks. Lot’s of possibilities. We’re staying very positive.

Jake will be here tomorrow to bring her even more encouragement.

I’ll write again soon. Love to all of you.

- Luka and Michelle

Update August 26

Mom and her good friend Heidi Wesdyk-Shelley from 2019 (via facebook)

I hope everyone had a nice weekend,

It’s the end of the first full week of Connie in the ICU. Time files when it’s standing still.

I’m going to slow these updates down a little; trying to emphasize major milestones (and hopefully no setbacks).

Due to some blood pressure instability, Mom has been sleeping pretty often, which can be concerning…

But on Sunday she got a visit from her longtime colleague and friend, Heidi Wesdyk-Shelley.

“She had a big smile when I walked in and was able to tell the nurse who I was and how we know each other,” Heidi told my sister, Mia.

Heidi witnessed some of what Dad and the rest of us have been seeing which are moments of very clear memory and personality but veering off into spurts of tangents of whatever else is on her mind. The nurses continue to say this is normal.

There are more visitors lined up for this week, and I know they each bring her encouragement and comfort.

I talked to mom on the phone on Sunday. When she calls me, she’s always in good form, so I’m not totally privy to what is like when her blood pressure is off and she’s much weaker. Instead, she was full of happiness. We made plans to go to the Saratoga Racetrack next year. She remembered a crepe shop in Saratoga that she was already craving. And she landed a few funny one-liner’s that made me laugh.

I keep reminding her that I’ll be there first thing on Thursday morning with my partner, Michelle. My sister, Mia, has plans to get there in early September. Mom loves to hear this, and I know she’s counting the days.

If all continues to improve, Mom will be out of the ICU wing in 14ish more days. There will be more time in the hospital, but I think being able to get out of the room full of bleeps and bloops and hourly neurochecks will give her a little more time to rest and start looking towards life back home in Cortland with her puppies and her husband.

I’ll write again soon, certainly once I can see her in-person and talk to the doctors and nurses I’ve made friends with on the phone so far.

Have a good Monday.

Luka

“One last thing… The nurses there are amazing and seem to be taking wonderful care of her.” - Heidi Wesdyk-Shelley

Update August 24

Roses from Dad are quarantined lol. That won’t stop them from being beautiful.

Oops I got a day behind. Trying my best to stay on top of this blog.

Talked to Mom and her nurses last night (Friday). There’s still a few things they don’t have perfect with her blood pressure, and they’ve had to do a couple minor procedures to try to get it where they want. (I don’t have my notes next to me right now, so excuse my lack of medical vocabulary). More to monitor on that front.

Mom was happy and upbeat on the phone, as she’s been with me. The nurse use the word “outstanding” for her cognitive function. Love to hear that. She’s not answering every question perfectly, but she’s answering them with confidence lol.

Dad visited up there with her friend Tracy yesterday, and he’s there solo again today. He brought her flowers, but they wont let her keep the flowers in her room. She told me she could see them through the window in the ICU room.

Mia is tracking visits and gifts and keeping that tidy. Our team is strong. Everyone knows what they need to do. Some more visitors are on the horizon that I know Mom will adore. I’m looking forward to getting to Cortland next week.

I’ll hopefully have even more details in the next couple days. Check back. Feel free to keep reaching out to me as many of you have. It’s been wonderful to be in touch with so many folks. A quick update on the phone or via text turns into a good convo about everything else going on in life. Sucks when we wait until these moments to find the time to catch up with friends and loved ones. So take the time today to call someone you’ve been meaning to! lol

Love you all,

Luka

Connie Starmer Updates

Connie and Luka in Reno July 2024

Hey everyone. Luka Starmer here. On Sunday, August 18th, my mom, Connie Starmer, suffered a ruptured aneurism and was rushed to Upstate Medical. She’ll be there for a number of weeks in recovery. This page is now dedicated to updates about mom, her progress, and information from the doctors and my Dad (who is visiting her daily).

So many of you have reached out in love and support; we are so grateful for the community around this family. My aim here is to centralize information so that folks don’t feel in the dark if Ron, Mia, Jake, or I aren’t responding quickly enough. I know it’s been hard on my Dad to try to be able to respond to everyone as thoroughly as he would like. It’s a tough time right now for all of us.

With that said, I’m happy to field ANY questions or outpouring of support. You can reach me directly via my phone or my email both listed below. I will try to be in touch with everyone the best that I can.

Thank you for all of the care and concern, memories and love you’ve shown my mom and this family over all of the years and especially now.

With immense gratitude and hope,

Luka

w/ support from Mia, Jake, and Ron

Contact Info:

Luka Starmer phone: 607-423-6626

Luka Starmer email: lstarmer12@gmail.com

Update August 22

Connie and Luka at a wedding in 2018

Hello ever growing army of Connie’s cheerleaders,

The nurse told me there wasn’t a ton to update me on this morning, but look how long this post is haha.

The nurse said most things are the same with Mom, however there was a chance she would be able to get on her feet with the assistance from the specialist to get to the commode. (This feels like a HUGE advancement, actually). Everything is remaining stable with her brain monitoring and vitals. Regular neuro checks still happening every hour.

She had her first visit today from fabulous friends and bandmates John Burns and Tracy Hammond who have also been checking in on their dogs, Willa and Abby when Dad’s up in Syracuse. I heard they saw her up and walking, too. They witnessed a milestone.

On the topic of visits — if you want to visit Connie, shoot Mia an email. She will coordinate your schedule with Dad’s, the hospital’s and beyond so that it’s super well-organized. mia.reisweber@gmail.com

From a first-hand account, I spoke on the phone to Mom this afternoon. She had the nursing staff give me a call from her room. To me, she sounds a little bit better every single time. She’s full of loving words. She’s not quite as sharp on the short term retention of details, visits, conversations, the severity of the situation, the length of the ongoing hospital stay. Not yet. But jogging her memory of that stuff helps it all comes back momentarily. She told me she doesn’t want to be there 3+ weeks. I reminded her why, and she gets it.

The disjointed storytelling wasn’t as prevalent this time. As I wrote before, that stuff will ebb and flow. It can get worse, and it WILL get better.

My partner, Michelle, and I have a redeye flight back to Syracuse next Wednesday. This time next week we’ll be by Connie’s side. Who knows where she’ll be at in recovery by then, but I know our presence is going to bring her a lot of comfort and joy, progress and inspiration.

Dad finally allowed himself a little more rest today. He has been heroic mentally, physically, and emotionally. More than anything, we encourage him to listen to his body, because his rate of alertness and exertion is not sustainable for anyone, not even for Rock Starmer. (if you know you know lol).

A group of you raised a sizable chunk of gas/lunch/whatever money to give to him, and I know he’s in awe and full of a gratitude he can’t even put to words right now. People in my close community have supported in that way, too. It’s astonishingly generous and has smoothed some bumps in the road. Giving money is a tangible way that folks know they can help out. We haven’t discussed enough in depth as a family about handling that type outreach or show of support. If we get there, I’ll let you know . It’s too much to think about at this very moment, and we’re just moment to moment still.

I know Dad shares with Mom all of the messages he’s been getting. I’m looking forward to a longer moment with her to go down the list, person by person, sentiment by sentiment, word for word, all of the beautiful things that people have written for her for her recovery. It’s going to take me two, three days, and it’ll cost me my voice from reading, and choking up.

More to come. Hoping these’ll get shorter soon.

Luka

Update August 21

Mom at her piano in 2018

Hi everyone,

The super sincere and thoughtful outpouring of love and concern is amazing, albeit overwhelming. I keep trying to sort’ve iterate that it’s a lot to juggle, especially for my Dad right at the moment. I’ve obviously opened this can of worms by informing the world, so I take responsibility. We thank you and love you all. We’re sharing all the messages with Connie/Momma best that we can.

I got a call from the hospital last night. 10:45pm Eastern. It’s always alarming when they are the ones calling you. The nurse got the number wrong. She was trying to call my dad, and only because Mom was awake and wanted to say goodnight. I’m glad she got me instead.

Mom was very sweet. She was so happy to hear my voice. She’s speaking in her same cadence and storytelling patterns. It’s probably a combination of the brain trauma and the meds, but once we got past some adoring pleasantries, her stories became a little less based in reality. She spoke as if it was any given evening phone call, but the disjointed topics meandered between places in her mind that are core to her: Glens Falls, the parade, Dad’s sauce, photos from Jake and Mia, music that she wants to share with me… stuff like that. None of it made sense, but all of it had context. She had big plans and errands on her list for later this week.

It could feel disheartening to hear her not making full sense, but I know that injuries with the brain are so unpredictable. Instead, I’m full of hope that all those things are top of mind for her, and that she still knows how to tell a good story.

The Nurse explained to me that we will probably see her get worse before she gets better. We can handle that. They’re constantly monitoring blood pressure, meds for the brain bleeding, sedatives, etc. She has to be woken up every hour for neuro checks involving motor functions and cognition. She already has specialists coming in for PT, OT, and speech.

It’s going to be a long three weeks in the ICU. Followed by more time in a neuro unit we know the next steps for getting home. Dad’s still back and forth today and every day.

Those two— in all their moments of tragedy and set back and hardship and loss, they switch their minds into pretending they’re first century vikings sailing the harshness of the North Atlantic into battle, though I’d like to see them wear horns and animal pelts to keep warm. They cop that fierce determination and never-look-back attitude. I’ve seen it before. They’re so strong. (but maybe let’s start turning off the history channel at night? lol)

Alright that’s today’s update. I’ve heard from SO many folks I know and miss, thank you all. Everyone is so eloquent and earnest in their words of support. I hate to reiterate - but try to give Dad some space. Leave it on his facebook in order to not tie up his phone maybe? I hope this blog keeps everyone feeling in-the-know and that we love and appreciate everyone’s genuine care and concern. You can also hit up the comments sections on these blogs. Questions? I’ll answer them. Messages of hope? I’ll share them. Jokes and one-liners? I’ll laugh at them, probably quip back. That’s medicine too.

Take care everyone. I’ll keep in touch.

Luka

Update August 20, 2024

This is 50 hours-ish since Mom (Connie) has been at the Neuroscience Intensive Care Unit at Upstate. It’s been a rocky few days for all of us. Dad (Ron) has been up there daily, driving from Cortland for visiting hours at 10am, sitting with Mom and squeezing her hand, reinforcing the love from each and everyone.

He’s been there for many of her neurochecks. Those involve squeezing both hands, questions about where she is, who she is, where she is, etc. Mom has been doing well with those checks some of the time — more and more of the time. But she ebbs and flows right now, sometimes slipping into confusion and weakness. I’ve been assured this is typical this soon in the process.

ACTUALLY — in writing this, I just got off speaker phone with dad AND mom. Mom is very alert and talkative at this moment. Her speech is clear. Her memory is coming back. She even has a little spitfire in her attitude, which is a great sign. The amount of relief to hear her voice and hear her personality is overwhelmingly positive. My eyes are filled with tears of joy.

So that’s it for now. This post should be a beacon of hope for everyone who has been filled with worry the last few days.

I will remain in contact with the day and nighttime nursing staff, her social workers, and the doctors on the floor. I’m calling 2-3 times a day, and I will continue. And I vow to keep this little blog going for all of you. Check back here often. Never hesitate to text, call, or email me if you want a more personalized update.

My dad (Ron) has been so grateful for everyone reaching out. Yall are amazing friends and family members. Though I write this with caution. He’s running on pure grit and adrenalin. These long days are going to catch up to him. I want to gently encourage everyone not to show up at Lansing Ave unannounced. This man needs some SLEEP. He and I are running through his checklist every morning before he leaves, making sure he has everything he needs to be helpful and comfortable. He’s received a ton of help with their puppies at home, Abby and Willa. Feel free to reach out to him, but if you don’t hear back, he has his hands full. You can always try me! I can pass on a message.

We’re going to do everything we can to get Connie back up, on her feet, dancing, playing piano, enjoying many more years together with her family and friends and community.

Love you all very much.

Luka Starmer

August 20, 2024