Mr. Wilson Wakes Up.

When we had left Brian the happy night before, we debated if he would need a "Brian-sitter" since he hadn't really been alone in the ICU and was getting more awake and active.  In the end, we decided a little reluctantly to see how he did alone and play it by ear.

Playing by ear resulted in Mr. Wilson waking up around four in the morning. He pulled out the dubhoff feeding tube Marisyl had meticulously placed the day before, removed his cervical collar (neck brace for the fracture there) and said, "I want to go home."

His escape efforts were rewarded with a hospital paid CNA sitter to make sure he would keep his collar on and not pull anything else. They called me early to keep me in the loop and again, I got there as soon as I could, already awake hearing one of the marvelous work crews that got busy doing things that neither I nor Brian would be able to.  That day was a landscaping crew who mulched our flower beds and dug a trench to the garden to lay a sprinkler system there.

I found him sound asleep and the night shift gal had stayed over two hours until I got there. I thanked her profusely and sent her on her way. I wanted to be involved in Brian's care and if I was there already it didn't make sense for them to be paying someone to sit with us.  The charge nurse and I agreed they'd provide a night sitter and we'd be the day time sitter.

Brian slept and slept and they sent him down for another CT of his head, thinking maybe he had another bleed or something going on since he wouldn't be roused.  Of course, they told me this later so I didn't even worry or fret about it, thinking his sleepiness was "normal," still working off the cocktail of drugs he'd been given in the last few days.

It was stable!

Mid morning Brian walked to the door with PT and then worked with OT, writing a chicken scratch version of "B-R-I-A-N" (woo hoo, that parts there!) and doing some other pattern/sequence work.  It was so simple, matching A-1 B-2 C-3 D-4 but after the D and 4, he skipped a letter and couldn't get it to match up.  It made my heart squeeze seeing that.

Before he woke up I would tell myself that he was just asleep.  That he would wake up and be himself, that there wouldn't be anything different and if we could just get him to wake up everything would be okay.

I was quickly learning what everyone meant by this being a marathon and not a sprint. I could see how hard the simple worksheet was for him, and it made me realize to a small degree how much work we had ahead of us.  In some ways I would just focus on what we were doing that day, what Brian was doing and not think about the next day or weeks or months to come. Today was enough.

One of the evenings on the seventh floor one of our beloved Trauma PAs, Liz, had sat our family down and kind of gave us a lecture about what we could expect with a brain injured family member.  I remember wincing as her words hit my ears, and my self shirking back, not wanting to experience what she predicted.

We don't know how his brain has been affected and won't know until he wakes up and begins to recover.  We do say that at 24 months there will be no more measurable recovery.  You are as good as you will get around then.  Brian might be very impulsive and not think things through- which will be very dangerous at home, you'll have to watch him all the time.  Brian will experience mood swings, go from happy to sad to furiously angry, he might take it out on you, Rosa, or the rest of you. It's not Brian, it's the injury. He will have no control of those as his emotions wake up and you'll need to be understanding and patient.  He might be back at work in 12-18 months, but of course we don't know.  Take care of yourselves, you'll need it. 

I remember nodding, I know some about Brain Injuries having taken care of a few here and there. I knew that they can be unsafe and in a hurry about things. And I knew that it would be awhile before my sweetheart would be back to himself and then to me. And I wanted to run away.

Of course I wouldn't. I wanted to, but I wanted to be there, more. Like contractions when laboring for a new baby; at the time, in the middle of them you want them to end, to be over, to be anywhere else, to escape. But you muscle through, as best you can. No one else can do the work for you, and the quicker you go through it, the faster it's over with one of life's sweetest treasures in your arms.

I wasn't laboring for a new baby, but for my husband.

So I inwardly shook my shirking self and told her to get a grip, and for goodness sake: buck up.

After Brian had worked with OT, I helped him take a bath and changed his gown and the sheets on the bed.  I was so grateful for that time with him, to be able to physically do something as if by changing his sheets I was getting him better faster. Of course I wasn't, but it was better than sitting idly by.  It was the first time he was awake enough and with it to chat, so we had a lovely visit.  I (again) going over the accident, who was here and there and what was going on. I asked him if he knew what had happened and he said: My brain is all messed up.

He could tell something was scrambled.

The whole time he was up in the chair he would keep reminding me how hungry he was and he wanted a "Vannnillla En-Shure." It's hard to convey the slow, slurred cadence his speech held, but it reminded me of a person that maybe has cerebral palsy or something.  Our Trauma team that day said Brian could have as many Ensures as he wanted after he passed his swallow evaluation.

We kept him in the chair till Elliot got there with his Nana and Grandma and Brian again tried reaching him saying, Hey Buddy



Brian passed his swallow eval with the qualifier the liquids were thick and begged to eat: everything.  He told his dad a hamburger sounded delicious, cereal "perfect" and ate two bowls of thickened cream of mushroom soup, licking his lips and exclaiming how delicious it was.  There was nothing more disgusting sounding than the greyish lukewarm goo I spooned into his mouth, but he loved it. (He still can't believe he happily ate it.) 

We lay him down for the afternoon and he slept alot, as he would be wont to do in the days to come. "I'm done with you now," he would say, or "I'm going to sleep."

The next morning I got there early and joked about us watching Twilight. Since we haven't participated in the vampire craze, I knew he was off when he sweetly agreed that it "sounded nice." Since Saturday was a big work day at our house I planned on not being home really at all. For one thing, it seemed awkward to be there "bossing" people around to work on our shop/yard/garden and for another, I of course wanted to be with Brian.

We spent the day quietly, as most of our close family and friends were at our house working hard. I again helped him take a bath and we chatted a few times, but he mostly rested which is what he needed. He also walked to the door which tired him out.

I made plans to take our Moms out for dinner in celebration of Mother's Day since I obviously hadn't thought about cards or gifts for them, but they had both been so supportive and all around awesome.  It was kind of fun to plan to do something else and get away from the hospital when it was still daylight. We went to Who Song and Larry's on the waterfront and our waitress was as sweet as can be, giving us dessert on the house after learning about Brian's injury.  When he's well again and you come in, I'll give you dessert again, in celebration.



When we got back to the hospital, some good friends were visiting and Brian remembered where we had been in our Bible Study before the accident, recalling Paul being in prison and some of the specific verses.  We had some good laughs as Brian also remembered Sandy talking about "sand paper people" (you know, those people who rub you the wrong way but you have to live with them?) he assured her she wasn't one of his. He also asked for that Spanish food... Hornitos? We figured out he was asking for Doritos but didn't think he could have them since the fractures in his mouth still made eating a painful process.
 He reminded me of that nursery rhyme about the girl with the curl down her forehead, but Brian's was when he was tired, he was very very tired and when he was awake, he was wide wide awake! It was as if he knew he had been asleep for almost a week and he wanted to express all the thoughts that had been locked inside. He would launch hour long monologs, waxing poetic on any and all subjects, often loosing his train of thought or not knowing the word for things and would need help remembering. His speech, like I said, was slow and sleepy, it definitely reminded me that it wasn't my Brian, but I was still so happy to hear him expressing himself after his week of silence and knowing that he really was in there.

We left him with plans to return and do a private church service with just our parents.  When I got home I could hardly believe my eyes.  The outside of our house and lawn were immaculate. Not a blade of grass was out of place.  The moon was bright and I could see the gutters had been cleaned, the flowerbeds weeded and a garden painstakingly planted. Not to mention the work that had been done on our shop, electrical wiring put in, things that I didn't even know to look for had been lovingly cared for and tended to. I went to bed, amazed again at God's goodness itself and then the ways it had been shown to us by His people.
Here's what I wrote in my journal that night:

"Eucharisto always precedes the miracle." (Ann Voskamp)  This last week as I have counted gifts through one of the most emotionally draining, heart rending and exhausting weeks of my life, I have found that God is already there, and you can rejoice in the midst of suffering, because He is good. Here's my list of gifts today: 
1.Little fat brown boy smiling and happy to wake up, at home and with Mama 
2. Brian so happy to see me first thing 
3. Napping on the couch and listening to my beloved breathe- sweetest sound 
4. When we went walking once he hugged me twice, AND started calling me Dear again
 5.Dinner to celebrate my two Mama's with Elliot- dessert on the house, thanks to our sweet waitress 6. Brian's slow and sleepy voice, wanting to share his thoughts after a week of silence
 7. Sweet visits with friends from near and far 
8. Jesus being so present and near 
9.Balmy summer air
 10.Our house and shop and yard: perfectly tidy, filling my heart with gratitude.


God is already where you are, and you can rejoice in your suffering, because He is good.

Penthouse Suite, Communication and a Good Night Kiss

As would become our custom while my mom was here, I again went in as early as I could while still getting a decent amount of sleep, and she would give Elliot a chance to be in his own environment before having to go to the hospital. I really wanted Elliot to be there as little as he HAD to be, but also spend some time with me, his Mama, and see his Papa though as of yet he hadn't. 

  The ICU rules said 12, even immediate family, for both the visiting child's health and the patients.  If something were to happen and the patient need resuscitation or emergent help it would be easier if there weren't children under foot and having to deal with a scary situation. The ICU is also home to a lot of "super bugs" and it made sense not to expose the little guys to that.

As we hung out in Brian's room, him mostly asleep, I caught up on email and facebook, the messages continued to pour in, and I relished reading every one. In the first few days I quickly realized it would be impossible for me to personally reply to every message or email, which I still wish I could have.  They really meant so. much. 

Brian was responding a lot more and even communicating though his voice was still really quiet and whisper like. Our sister Rachel stopped by meeting Grandma Gwen who was watching her boy Henry and we showed Brian a picture of himself- we were unable to procure a mirror that would reach his face since the collar prevented him too much movement. He grimaced to see himself, and I again explained what had happened and his injuries.

My aunt Karen came and visited until Elliot got there with Nana, Grandma, Lana and Henry.  She then took him for the day with plans for him to come back that evening with other friends. He did a lot of car hopping as well as people hopping! Praising God for Elliot's patience through everything! 

We spent another day camped out in the waiting room, relinquishing the private room for another family.  It was strange to think about other families who had been there for days watching US be the newbies and hear all the news, the doctors coming in and shutting the doors to have a conference and the faces emerging, drawn and resigned. Having worked there, I recognized the bereavement package the family emerged with. It was so hard to watch them walk past us to the elevator, their shoulders slumped, pain tangible. At the time, I don't think I realized how close we had come to getting the green booklet ourselves. 

The trauma doctors came by on their daily rounds and dangled the possibility of transferring to the floor and out of the Intensive Care Unit. They were concerned where to send him because the floor that usually takes head/neck/spine traumas was the seventh floor, Brian's home floor.  His coworkers would be taking care of him, and they wanted to respect Brian's privacy and make sure he was comfortable with that. I asked him several time, rephrasing several times to make sure he understood and every time he said he would go there. I agreed, they're the best at what they do, and I would rather go to a floor that knows best how to care for Brian's injuries than to a different floor for privacy. I assured Brian I would be his CNA and that it would just be Nursing care he would get there. I wouldn't want MY coworkers helping me bathe! 

 Brian worked with OT- standing up, even- and asked me to help him brush his teeth. I had been pretty vigilant with the teeth brushing, being a bit of a fanatic myself, but it was good for Brian to take the initiative. Before we were married I had made Brian promise if I were ever in a wreck or a position where I couldn't do it myself that he would come brush my teeth and wash my hair. He said he would, and I agreed to marry him. And repaid the promise. 

That afternoon, when spending time with Trenton and his Mum, Brian was trying very hard to get something across.  He finally rubbed his stomach and got eat out with his voice. They rang the nurse and he got to "eat" an ice chip and try a drink of water. Both made him cough and cough, and the nurse surmised he wasn't QUITE ready to eat real food or even be evaluated by speech therapy. I think the concern was a combination of having been asleep for five days, and intubated, his throat may have "forgotten" how to swallow, and on the other side of the coin, that it's impossible to know if that part of his brain was injured in the fall: maybe he didn't know how to swallow any more.

As we were waiting in the lobby, one of the social workers I knew from my employment walked by and stopped to check in on us. She explained that she thought all employees automatically qualified for short and long term disability after the hospital merger, instead of having to opt in like before. I had wondered how I would find out if Brian had checked that box on the benefit form last November.  Stacy promised to look into it and get back to us... and it was so!  I could only sigh with relief! God was so good!  She could find that out because she had the same benefits, and Brian worked there, again, I was so thankful we were at Southwest, and that it was automatic!  It wasn't his whole salary, but it was something. I couldn't even imagine how the bills would pile up and I knew I would be willing to go back to work if I needed to, but hadn't even thought that far ahead.

After we were all sure Brian understood what we were asking and what he was saying, we got the okay to move up the 7th floor and the best view in the world.  Marisyl was there again, and she got everything ready for the transfer, but we waited for a bed to open up and didn't actually end up transferring until late in the afternoon. She didn't mind, since Brian was doing so well and she'd been there now four days in a row.  Before we left, she inserted a nasogastric feeding tube, going into his nose and down to his stomach to give him some nutrition. His last real meal had been Friday night, since we were going out for breakfast, and it was now Thursday.  No wonder he was so hungry! He had also lost quite a bit of weight, down to 120 and they were worried about his recovery if he couldn't regain it by eating regular foods. 

   Some of my ex-coworkers had been floated to help transport patients and it was crazy to see them after almost a year off, and they were so sweet in helping scoot Brian over to the seventh floor bed and carry buckets of stuff upstairs.

Where we were met graciously and taken the best care of. We got the room with the best view, and here's the best thing: We were shed of the volunteer wardens and Elliot could go into the room.

 As soon as he was settled and everything in place, I went to the waiting room and got Elliot from my Mom, and we three went back. 

 "Look, Elliot," I said. "Papa has owie. Poor Papa, has an owie!"

 Elliot signed "pain" and then "pain" again with "more," seeming to understand his Papa had a really bad owie, and more than I thought he would. Brian tried to reach out and pet him, and his mouth worked to get the words out  

"Hey, Buddy."  

 I hadn't thought to worry if Brian would know Elliot or not. 

Of course he would. But when Brian did know him, relief filled my every pore. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jesus.

We tried to keep the number of people in his room to a minimum, and our nephews, Ethan and Espen, were pretty pumped to be able to go finally see one of their favorite people, thought disappointed to find the waiting room to look almost exactly the same. They were really intrigued with the staples on Brian's head, a little apprehensive but also curious. 

We spent the evening taking turns going back and forth visiting Brian and finally packing up the waiting room. There were bags of food, Elliot's stroller, diaper bag and car seat which got a lot of mileage being brought from car to hospital to different car to hospital and back to my car. We had our little laptop, our big camera, my backpack of snacks and guestbook, paperwork that seemed to grow daily- Brian's leave of absence paper work and checks I hadn't deposited. We would pack it all up and make a mass exodus to the cars, usually myself, my mom, Elliot, Mum and Dad Wilson and Lana, with a few stragglers. 

That night I went back alone to say good night, and told Brian I was going to bring Elliot home for the night, and he nodded, saying, "Have a good night." and then.

He puckered right up. 

It was the sweetest kiss I have ever had. Even the first one, on our wedding day couldn't compare. It went from my lips straight to my heart and settled there, making it swell and swell till I felt I would burst with its wonder. 

As we walked to our cars, the air was balmy and warm, Elliot was solid and sweet in my arms, my Mom was there and the sweetest in laws a girl could have, and the magic of my first kiss in a week still lingered.  My heart felt so light and happy, I let out a woop.

And it felt so good, I did it again, and me and Elliot and my Mama went wooping with happiness, twirling with joy like crazy people in the warm evening. 

I was so happy. 

God is so good! He had already done so much! I couldn't wait to see what He would do next.

Every evening when I got home, I would get the mail, sort out the piles, cards, junk, bills, carefully recording people's gifts and recapping the day for Brian, when he wakes up. I usually put some laundry going, and tried to tidy things up a little bit. I would have a little snack, lay Elliot down and drag myself to bed around eleven. 

Thinking back, I see that was all I could manage. It didn't feel hard, but I couldn't do anything but go straight to the hospital and come straight home. Anything else made me feel panicky- what if I missed something with Brian? And I was on autopilot a lot of the time, doing what I needed to and little else. They were sorting through my sweet sweet great grand parents house and I so badly wanted to go there, to see it, to help, pick out a treasure to remember them by for myself, but every day I would tell myself: I could go on my way to the hospital, but the next morning the need to get to the hospital and see Brian was too great and I could only go straight to the hospital and see him.