Miracles Continue

My reservoirs were replenished yesterday by taking the sacrament, and by holding and playing with and loving on my babies.  It’s been really taxing on me to be away from them for so many hours at a time, and I’m sure they feel the stress and drain of it a thousand times more than I do, despite the fact that their Grammi is a professional at making life fun.

We did their bath time routine and snuggled in bed to read stories.  They both went right to sleep and neither of them ended up in my bed until around 5 this morning.  I honestly have to say I was a little disappointed that they slept in their own beds instead of crowding in with me. . . . never would have thought I’d ever say that!

I left the house around 6, eager to get to the hospital to see the miracle man.  The going was slow in the torrential rain from the very rare thunderstorm that had blown in.  It was beautiful and wild and powerful, and made me feel small and humble.  I was almost sad when I reached the end of it, but I was glad to be making faster progress to the hospital.

I arrived just in time for the doctor’s morning visit, and David was already off the sedative and pain meds.  He was opening his eyes and looking around a bit.  The doctor came in and started trying to wake him up, and he started responding to her right away.  He was looking around at everyone and she asked me to come help her see what he could do.  When he recognized me he lifted his right hand and waved to me!  He reached out for me and I held his hand and talked to him.  He wouldn’t really do anything with verbal commands only, but he would respond immediately to being shown visually what we wanted him to do.  He held up two fingers, gave thumbs up and tried to wiggle his toes.  It was really hard not to start jumping around and celebrating.

When the doctors were done testing him I continued to stand by him and talk to him.  He kept reaching his hand out and touching my belly, and grabbing for my purse.  When he finally got ahold of it he used it to pull me down on him and I lay my head on his chest.  He patted my back and my head with his hands.  Unbelievable.  Just unbelievable.

He was really anxious to get the ventilator tube out of his throat so I tried to read to him to distract him but he pulled the book out of my hand and dropped it over the side of the bed.  He kept pointing towards the door.  It was hard to tell but I think he was trying to ask for the doctor to come faster to take the thing out, he was very persistent.  She did finally give the ok and the respiratory therapist came in and removed the thing.  At first his breathing was really ragged and choppy but within an hour or so it was sounding much more normal.  Now he is breathing normally and soundlessly, except for when he yawns or coughs, and he seems much more comfortable.

He has not yet spoken.  And he still does not respond to verbal cues.  But he does try to communicate with hand motions and pointing.  It is frustrating that most of the time I can’t figure out what he is trying to say.  Generally it seems like what he wants most is to pull out all his remaining tubes and lines and I hope he’s not angry with me for not helping him. . .  

I just keep looking at him and thinking how miraculous it all is.  We have a long way to go yet, but for today, this is enough.

Zalea expressed interest in visiting for the first time today.  She was very hesitant and nervous, but we did manage to get her to touch and hold his hand.

Preparing to take the ventilator tube out.

Yay, no more ventilator!!  The pressure monitor in his head (still pictured) was also removed today.