I don’t care much for titles

People ask how I’m feeling and most of the time I have a hard time coming up with thoughts to explain it. Sometimes i think I don’t have thoughts at all but i guess I do. I think about a lot of things actually but I don’t think about them long. Coming back from the dead is a process they say.  I’m working on regaining my memory and getting used to my new schedule. It’s all in a days work. The most frustrating thing is the short term memory loss. It seems that things that keep my attention I am able to remember a little better.  But if I am distracted with things around me or just noise in general I can’t remember it even if it just happened. I think alot about taking classes online but I know the memory thing is going to get in my way. I’m still going to do it though. I feel frustrated almost all the time. I wish I was healed already but I know it’s a process and I have to be patient. But I’m not a very patient person.  I get bored sometimes but I enjoy the rest.  It’s an internal struggle. I am recovering I never feel like giving up.  I’ve never been one to take the easy route in life so the struggle makes me feel like i’m accomplishing something. There are aspects of my recovery that I’m not happy with but other areas that I’m very proud. I get lonely for companionship and I miss hanging out with my friends but I keep in touch with email and the telephone.  Having the best friends ever in the world doesn’t hurt either.  I keep my journal with me all the time and that helps me remember if I remember to write things down. I was looking in my journal at next month and on my birthday there is a quote from Henry David Thoreau. It says “it is not enough to be busy…so are the ants. The question is “what are we busy about?”

So the question is: what am I busy about? I’m busy about getting better as fast as humanly possible. One day at a time. What are you busy about?

graduation

It happened.  Mike is done.  Mt.Vernon Rehab sent us off with a “you can do it” and off we went.  Talking to his father on the phone this morning, Mike said the end was bittersweet “glad to be done but I will miss the therapists and the therapy”.  It’s tough to speak for Michael but I guess that we would all feel better if our recovery were overseen by educated professionals.  Family and friends are great but what do we really know about helping someone reach and achieve their fullest potential after traumatic brain injury? We’ve had someone there to hold our hands and to give professional opinions to help measure improvements from October 21 till this moment.  Quite a bit of pressure - it’s a little scary. 

I hear and understand what the therapists are saying…Michael needs to use the learned strategies in real life outside of a clinical environment.  I get it.   There’s no school in the world that teaches us how to live more than what we learn from life’s experience - our best lessons are learned by trial and error, bumps in the road. We all have the responsibility to push ourselves in the right direction - to make the right choices for our future.  I get it.   But for me personally, behind the door that closes today, is fear.  A fear that we will fail him.  

The safety net of clinical therapy has been comforting and the unknown once again is before us.  The ground is not solid, there’s no one there to lead the way - it is tough to stand alone.  Your love and prayers continue to help us stand - your commitment to following Michael’s progress gives us courage to believe that we can do this.  It is the village that makes us strong.  One Love.

As we were preparing to leave Mt. Vernon today, there was only one therapist that Michael talked about saying good-bye to.  He had a note in his journal to remind him to look for her but there was really no need - it was on his mind all morning.  Michael was fortunate to have her (add another blessing to the list) as his physical therapist when he was in-patient at Mt.Vernon. We all bonded with this sweet spirited gladiator…she “got” us.  She saw past the hospital gown, saw past the “patient in 507″, saw through the head injury and she saw my son.  She saw us. 

Michael connected with her immediately and spoke of her often after his release from Mt.Vernon in January.  She is the one he would look forward to seeing every day and this morning on the way to his last therapy, her name was the only name he mentioned.  She is beautiful.  She is kind and compassionate.  She is Kelli.  

Unlike the other therapists from Michael’s stay previously at Mt.Vernon, she continued to let Mike know that she cared, that she believed in him.  He would light up when he saw her and be so proud if she noticed that he was making improvement.  She gave Mike a card today - it sings “you’re simply the best, better than all the rest”….well, right back atcha’ babe - Miss Kelli, we think ”you’re simply the best, better than all the rest”.

So, another journey begins today.  A journey that I believe began on I66 at Exit 66 with an intervention to save this young man’s life.   I believe there is a plan.  I believe in prayer, I believe in miracles.  God be with us as this  ”Journey of Miracles” continues.

Stay tuned…

LIVESTRONG Michael.

xxoo

no words

There were three employees of INOVA Fairfax Hospital that translated medical updates into language we could understand.  These angels in scrubs gave us strength during those days that morn to midnight blurred into one in the Trauma ICU waiting room.  No matter how long they had been on duty they would go behind the scenes to search out  news of hope to share with us.  Donna, Mary and Michelle - there are no words to adequately express our gratitude for your compassion and the many acts of kindness extended to us during those sometimes overwhelming, emotional roller coaster days.  Thank you for being there.  Thank you for caring. 

Caulyne Barron commented to my last posting that paths cross for a reason and I couldn’t agree more.  You are so right that Michael’s situation could have been worse, we are very fortunate that there were no other vehicles involved.  It is no accident that many of our lives are forever enriched by what begins as a chance meeting.   A swim team family from when the children were young, by chance crossed our path again during those trying times at Fairfax Hospital. 

Today, they are suffering their own terrible tragedy.  One week ago today Sunday, Mother’s Day morning around 6AM their 22 year old son (allegedly) struck a van at the intersection of Rt 29 and Somerset Drive in Gainesville.  It is reported that he was driving under the influence and as a result killed an 8 year old passenger in the other vehicle.  He has been charged with involuntary manslaughter and is being held without bond at Prince William County Detention Center. 

To our friends who’s path we crossed again - to the mother that gave us so much comfort during our time of need - our hearts go out to you - we know that in the blink of an eye your lives were changed forever.  We will keep you, your son, your family and the family suffering the loss of their son in our prayers.

How far does the pain from these careless decisions to drive while under the influence reach?  There is a connection. We are all connected. There are lessons to be learned - are you listening?

One Love.

count down-one week

Head injury is very serious stuff, and the challenge to an individual to find his way again is enormous. The challenge handed to that individual’s family and friends is equally large.

Mike continues rehabilitation at Mt.Vernon through next week. His gait, his memory, his judgment, his confidence, his competence have all been affected. Mike was driving from Manassas to his townhouse in Arlington after partying with “friends” and made the decision to drive home while intoxicated. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk, right?

Those are the facts. Mike should have his own story to tell but he has no memory of that evening. Looking back to that night serves no real purpose other than to raise my blood pressure so let’s look forward to the lesson. Given the magnitude of Mike’s injury, there can be no question that he has come a long way. It is by the grace of God he is alive and recovering miraculously. Thankfully Michael is “strong like bull” so to his great credit (and to the credit of some very special therapists) Mike has managed much of this with humor and with some decency.

This posting isn’t an update though - it is a mother’s plea and a request to consider the merits of the lesson Michael is living each day. It is an emotional plea to anyone who drinks and then places themselves behind the wheel. Under the influence it is impossible for you to realize the implications of that decision. In that moment, I ask you to think of the Michael you once knew and feel the loss - it is a loss of rippling proportions.

These days the word “head injury” appears all too frequently in the news due greatly to the publicity awarded our troops in Iraq. Advances in medical technology result with more and more people surviving TBI, but the journey from “survival” to “recovery” is an arduous and an elusive one.

Unfortunately, other than stabilizing the brain, very little can be done to “fix” the damaged areas. Damage occurs not only at the point of impact, but also with shearing, bruising and swelling that takes place inside the brain. Intensive therapy encourages the brain to stay stimulated in hopes that new pathways can be rebuilt or rerouted. Just as each head trauma is different, so is each outcome. While some people end up in nursing homes, others make substantial progress. What they have in common is that all head injuries require struggle. The heroics of everyone involved from victim to family to friends to therapists to nurses to doctors boggle the mind, the wallet and the emotions.

The brain is an extraordinary organ. It is so complex that it still defies understanding, yet it is vital to determining “who” we were, “who” we are, and “who” we shall be.

Tripped up by a severe head injury resulting in traumatic injury to his brain, a “new Mike” is evolving. While the outside is endearingly familiar, the inside is suddenly changed. His whole being is forced to focus on retrieval: bits of memories, pieces of intellect, and scraps of emotion. Things that were a given, now demand huge effort and thought. Michael was easily: a driven young man, a good friend, a strong thinker. Now he struggles in all those pursuits. As his mother, I miss terribly the sophistication of his person. I miss the participation in intellectual conversation, hearing his thoughts for the future, the plans for travel and the promise of his dreams.

The dilemma is not just for me personally…I/we still have Michael, but then again we don’t. There is a vacancy and a burden. The position for me requires keeping life “normal,” coping with decisions to protect him but allowing for the valuable lessons we learn from mistakes; and energy to being the mother/caregiver of a head injured adult. Doing battle with the insurance company who understands little other than it is monstrously expensive; and finally and most importantly, finding a nurturing balance for Mike to foster dignity and growth. I cannot make all of the decisions for his life. He is not a child.

Within the negatives of a tragedy though, there seems to be a human need to salvage and focus on the positives. For us there are many. One plus is that you learn a great deal about yourself. You learn, rather surprisingly, that you do not drown. That somehow, you are resilient enough to keep looking for the beauty of a bird in flight. You hold on to and cherish your children’s smiles, you find comfort in their love for each other and wrap each small step of recovery around you like a warm blanket.

You learn to marvel at the depth and breadth of peoples’ ability to care. You learn not to remember too often what once was, because it hurts too much, and not to look forward too far, because it is too scary. You float for now, somewhere in the present tense between the promise and the impossibility of daydreams.

You learn to hunker down within yourself to try to find a responsible way through head injury and the feeling of loss. I find balance in dirt. If at all possible, I work out stress in the garden so to use a gardener’s analogy; we are like plants with leaves and blossoms dark and wrinkled by a freak frost, and we are forced to grow more roots. You learn to give thanks and hold on to your faith. I reach to the warmth of family and wait to bloom again. I miss you Michael - I know in my heart we will all bloom again.

After next week, the responsibility for Michael’s continued recovery from brain injury lies with us. Pray for Michael, pray for healing, pray for strength and guidance for our family that we listen and make the right decisions. We give thanks to God for all our blessings.

LIVESTRONG Michael.
xxoo

happy mother’s day

A little boy asked his mother, ‘Why are you crying?’ ‘Because I’m a woman,’ she told him.  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.  His Mom just hugged him and said, ‘And you never will.’

Later the little boy asked his father, ‘Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?’ ‘All women cry for no reason,’ was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.

Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked, ‘God, why do women cry so easily?’  God said:

‘When I made the woman she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.

I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue with out complaining.

I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.

I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly.

And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.’ ‘You see my son,’ said God, ‘the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides.

I have been blessed to have a mother with strong shoulders who has always and continues to demonstrate a power house of inner strength.  When times are tough, she carries herself with grace and dignity and walks the path of life with faith that God is leading the way.  If I could carry the weight of the burdens of life she faces now, I would.  I too have strong shoulders…everything I am is because of her.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

Every Mother’s Day is special for me but a new awareness that tomorow is not promised, it probably goes without saying that this one in particular will have special meaning. To my gifts from God…

Michael, Nathan and Emily:

Being your mother means that I have had the opportunity to experience loving someone more than I love myself. I have learned what it’s like to experience joy and pain through someone else’s life.

It has brought me pride and joy; your accomplishments touch me and thrill me like no one else’s can. It has brought me a few tears and heartaches at times, but it has taught me hope and patience. It has shown me the depth, strength, and power of love.

Being your mother hasn’t always been easy, and I’m sure I’ve said or done things that have hurt or confused you. But no one has ever made me as satisfied as you do just by being happy. No one has made me as proud as you do just by living up to your responsibilities.

No one’s smile has ever warmed my heart like yours does; no one’s laughter fills my heart with delight as quickly as yours can. No one’s hugs feel as sweet, and no one’s dreams mean as much to me as yours do. No other memories of bad times have miraculously turned into important lessons or humorous stories; the good times have become precious treasures to relive again and again.

You are a part of me, and no matter what happened in the past or what the future holds, you are someone I will always accept, forgive, appreciate, adore, and love unconditionally.

Being your mother means that I’ve been given one of life’s greatest gifts: you.

xxoo 

Family Meeting

Mike and I met with the therapists at Mt. Vernon yesterday and had a lengthy discussion about their goals and expectations for his rehabilitation.  His official discharge date is May 23 with a report to the insurance company that they would like to re-evaluate his progress within the calendar year.

They feel a 12 week hiatus from the clinical environment (fewer professionals involved with Mike’s recovery) putting more responsibility on the family and friends but in particular Mike himself, will add fuel to the recovery fire.  It is time to re-join life outside rehab. 

They emphasized that therapy doesn’t stop just because he will not be attending the Bridge Program.  It is important that each day is structured and includes a schedule for exercising and challenging memory, initiation, planning and sequencing with continued focus on regaining independent thinking.  They have always empowered us with tools for home use and in the remaining couple of weeks they will be there to answer any questions we may have. 

You can tell that they really care about Mike and realize that he has the potential to take this all the way.  From a clinical standpoint however, there needs to be time for us/Mike to work on recovering in “real life” and outside of the therapeutic environment.  We just have to make sure we understand and are ready for the responsibility we’re about to take on.  We’re a long way from what anyone would consider “recovered” but healing from a severe traumatic brain injury isn’t quite like recovering from a broken leg.  We knew from the start that we were in it for the long haul.  We also knew that Mike was in it to win it.

It will take a village.  We can do it.  Michael can do it.
xxoo