Progress

(David practices sitting and standing for PT)

Sunday was a good day, as Sundays often are.  David had longer periods of wakefulness and seemed to be observing and absorbing everything around him.  I spent some time snuggling with him in his bed which he seemed to enjoy.  He even brought his hand up and gave my head a little scratch once. He was still fairly inconsistent with nodding yes or no to questions, still not really responding to verbal commands, but he seemed closer.  The big surprise of the day came when the nurses turned him onto his sore side to change his sheets.  He tried to speak!  It was not a moan or an involuntary noise, he was using his voice and moving his lips to try to say something.  I have no idea what it was he was trying to say, but it was the first time I had seen him come so close to speaking.  I left the hospital feeling buoyed up and hopeful.

Yesterday (Monday) was pure torture.  David was so sleepy and un-interactive all day long.  When his eye was open his stare was more vacant, less alert.  He didn’t react when I snuggled with him again.  The day wore on slowly, slowly as my optimism dwindled, leaving me feeling empty and sad.  

Two of his coworkers and good buddies came to visit towards the evening.  I told them not to expect much, that he’d been very sleepy all day.  But when they came in the room, he woke up, looked at them from his one eye and smiled. . . a HUGE smile, teeth and everything.  He seemed to be really happy they were there visiting.  I had to step out of the room for a minute to talk with Dr. Nip, the plastic surgeon (a whole other story) and when I came back in, the guys said David had been trying to talk to them.  One of them is getting married in a couple of weeks and had given David the invitation to look at.  And he was holding it, and turning it over and over in his hand, trying to say something about it!  After the whole day of. . . . nothing. . . . . it was like being in some kind of weird dream to see him so animated.  It was the first time I’d seen him hold something in his hand in such a normal, natural way.  And he was moving his lips and vocalizing very quietly, nothing we could make out, but he was doing it a LOT.

A few minutes later I stepped out again to talk with Brandon, the music/art/counseling therapist and David’s buddies left.  Brandon and I went back into the room intending to see how David’s responses were and make a plan for what kinds of therapies would benefit him.  Brandon took David’s hand in his and told him to squeeze. . . and he did.  And he repeated it with the other hand.  Brandon told him, without pointing or gesturing, to wiggle his toes. . . . and he did!  Brandon asked David if he was in pain and David shook his head no.  I was just stunned.  I asked David to touch his nose, his knee, his ear.  Verbal commands only, no leading or pointing.  And he did!!!  

And then Brandon asked David if he knew me.  And he looked at me for a minute.  And shook his head no.  There was a sick little lurch in my stomach but I pushed it aside.  David’s mom came in to take the night watch.  He shook his head no when I asked if he knew her.

The ride home I felt on the verge of a serious mental breakdown.  Like I was teetering on the edge of some deep dark place where all my worst fears live.  All my what-ifs.  I managed to hold it together long enough to pick up my kids, who were passed out on a good friend’s couch.  I tucked them both into my bed without changing them or brushing their teeth, stumbled out onto our deck and lost it.  All the pain, all the grief, the longing, the doubt, the anger, the guilt, the unknowing, the anguish, the fear, the FEAR.  It all came out of me in sobbing and retching and sounds I didn’t recognize.

And I knelt and I begged God to comfort me.  To send help.  And He did.

I was still kneeling there when I heard someone knock on our door.  I stood and walked around the corner to see whom God had chosen to come find me in such a state.  It was our bishop, with a bag of cookies to share with the nurses and staff at the hospital.  I cried on him and then we sat and talked.  I mostly listened, words were hard to get out, not unusual for me.  And then he laid his hands on my head and gave me a blessing full of comfort and specific promises that calmed my soul and created a barrier between me and the darkness.  Returned me to center.

Today I cannot help but be full of faith, having gone through the experiences of last night.  Today I am calm and settled and looking forward to the fulfillment of what I have been promised.  

David’s night was a bit restless and so he has been sleeping this morning.  But when he does wake up he continues to respond to verbal commands, continues to try to speak.  He distinctly said “Ow! Ow!” when the nurses turned him on his sore side.  He got his face shaved this morning.  I gave him a kiss and waited to see his reaction.  He pointed to his lips.  Maybe I was misinterpreting but I was happy to lay a few more on him.  Miraculous.

(Sitting in a real chair)

(Post-shave)

(Getting the royal treatment)