Rehab

These last 4 days have seemed like a lifetime.  David made the move from Queen’s Medical Center to the Rehab Hospital of the Pacific on Wednesday.  It was all he could talk about that morning and the hours went by so slowly while we waited for all his discharge papers to be in order and for his transport vehicle to arrive.  When it was finally time to go David was loaded up in a wheelchair and wheeled out to the van.  He and I climbed in and buckled up, while David’s uncle (who came back for a second visit) drove my van to the Rehab hospital.

We went through the admissions process.  The coordinator would ask David a question, he would respond, and I would translate.  He had David sign most of his own papers, which I thought a little odd since he couldn’t really even understand what he was saying most of the time, and David was astonished to discover it was the year 2015.  He still says the same thing every time he learns what year it is, “Wow, already?  I’m old!” 

David’s speech is still improving but he has trouble with switching some letter sounds around or adding letters to the ends of words.  I have grown accustomed to his new “language” and can usually tell what he is talking about.  And when he is trying to communicate with someone and it’s not working, he will usually end up looking at me in exasperation and asking me to tell them what he’s saying.  I’m glad I can help, but I want to make sure I don’t become a crutch for him.

The rest of the day Wednesday was filled with initial visits from the doctor and various therapists.  By the end of the day we were both exhausted and went to bed.  David didn’t sleep well and was up and down most of the night.  The next day we spent most of the time doing more in-depth assessments with the therapists and exploring our new surroundings.  David’s enthusiasm at being out of the hospital waned quickly and he had many emotional breakdowns throughout the day wanting to go home.

The nurses were also very wary and strict about following the rules, and hustled around us every time we left the room.  We had to complete toilet and shower training before they would leave us alone to do those things, and then had to train to be able to walk around the hospital floor, and then the courtyard outside.  Many of the patients there don’t have the ability to complete those basic functions without assistance from the nursing staff to be safe.  David is one of the youngest and most physically able patients there and it seems to throw them off.

His physical abilities and improving communication skills are wonderful, but they also mean that his stay at the Rehab hospital will be very short, probably 6 or 7 days at most.  Most of his needs lie in the cognitive area, and there isn’t anyone there who focuses solely on that aspect of rehabilitation.  So, in just a few days we will probably be on our own.  It’s too soon for me and not nearly soon enough for David.  Whenever there is a break in between therapy sessions and he doesn’t have a guest around to talk to he usually slips back into anger and frustration at feeling trapped in the hospital and not being able to go home.  His primary concern is getting back to the kids, and then work and church and scouts.  He begs and bargains and tries everything he can to convince whoever is within earshot that he cannot spend one single minute more in that place.

The problem I’m foreseeing is that he does not realize that going home won’t fix everything.  That just because he leaves the hospital doesn’t mean life will be back to normal.  He still cannot find his way back to his room from just around the corner.  He still does not know what year it is, usually thinks he’s in California, and doesn’t believe he fell out of a tree.  His body will still hurt, his speech will still be different and he will be really limited as to what he is able to do on his own.  I’m trying to gently introduce this idea to him, but his brain still latches onto going home as the panacea for all his problems.

Yesterday he had more therapy sessions, which was helpful in keeping him feeling productive and busy, and we had fewer emotional outbursts about going home.  His physical therapist had him walk down and up two flights of stairs without holding the railing.  David was a little shaky on the way down but went up without a problem, even skipping steps, to the alarm of his therapist.  He also had some visitors before bedtime, which was great and wore him out so he was ready for bed.  Sleeping is still difficult for him and he had another restless night despite his exhaustion.  Many times I would wake up to him begging for someone to “Please, please help me.” I don’t know if he says it in his sleep or if he is praying, or just speaking his misery.

Today was also a good, full day and he is becoming easier to reason with and redirect when he becomes fixated on going home.  The kids visited, and a couple of the scouts, and later on in the day our friend Sean and another friend from church.  Saying goodbye to the kids was rough, as it usually is.  David’s mom came to spend the late afternoon with him and his dad will come spend the night.  I was able to make it home before the kids’ bedtime and spend a little time playing with them.  I feel guilty every time I leave David, and I feel guilty every time I leave the kids.  It’s an impossible situation.

And so round and round we go.  Home for a few hours, back to the hospital, therapy sessions, trying to fill in the down time, riding out the emotional storming, seeing baby steps of progress.  Worrying and praying and hoping.  It’s exhausting and I’m sure I would have buckled by now under the weight of it if not for the buoying up of all the prayers and well wishes and gifts and encouragement.

To tell the truth I’m really excited to have David home in a few days.  But I’m also a terrified.  So much about it is this huge, unpredictable unknown.  I just hope we can find our new normal quickly and safely and with as few tears as possible.

Cruising the courtyard with his babies.

Anticipating daddy's homecoming.

The long-awaited transport van

Posting on Facebook

Doing speech homework.

Painting an elephant during (optional) art therapy.

The finished product.

Another visit from the kiddos.