Eye surgery week... whew!

Well the big surgery started Tuesday a little after 5pm, and it was I guess a quick surgery. Although any time when you’re on the “table” for repairs it is quite an ordeal. Dad, he was a trooper. Dad’s care team and eye specialist guy used words to describe Dad’s newly repaired eye like “extraordinary” and “quite remarkable”. He even went so far as to complement Dad’s entire care team for their hard work and dedication at keeping Dad in the best position for his eyes healing. Keep in mind, Dad’s right leg is broken and must be kept straight. His left shoulder cannot be brought up into a “sleeping” position because of his titanium shoulder replacement from a couple of years ago. Dad’s healing position is on his left side, or his stomach, and just released to be on his right side sometimes too. Have you ever tried to lie on your tummy and not arch your back, bend your legs, or stress because the pillows are in your face? Yikes. Mix in some jumbled memories due to a massive impact to the head, and the medications that follow

suit, and you get an interesting journey. The mind is a dangerous place to get lost and if you’re a bit fuzzy... Well you get the point. It’s been a constant campaign to keep Dad physically, mentally, and emotionally comfortable.

After well over a full month of not seeing correctly, now his eyes are playing tricks with his brain... or vice versa. I have been a tad concerned about his emotions drifting downward during these next few days, but as I watch him I wonder about getting lost in my own mind as I burn awake hours driving back and forth from home to the hospital to help with Dad.

I have been pulling the night shift with dad for the last couple of nights. Being by dad's side for 14 or so hours is taking its toll. The last few nights Dad has been quite... how do I say it... uncooperative with the nursing staff. As polite as he can Dad has said many times that he just wants to go home. My job has been to keep him calm and remind him that he's here so the nurses can help him and that he needs to relax.

I'm exhausted. I go from taking care of Dad all night to spending a little time with my family and grabbing whatever sleep I can, then it’s back to the hospital to do it again. Mom is exhausted. She is doing the same thing, just during the day. The wonderful Mr. Bill is joining in the fun as well.

Please keep us in your prayers. This ordeal is be

ginning to take its toll and cracks in our stoic veneer are starting to show.

On a more positive note, Dad spent a little time with his youngest grandchild tonight! While he was sitting in a wheelchair, I put Haven in his arms for a little snuggle. They both loved it! Haven babbled away and tried to eat Dad’s hospital bracelet and Dad stroked her soft skin and smiled some very big smiles.

Just a quick post to let you all know that Dad’s surgery went well. The surgeon used words like “remarkable!”

Dad is spending the majority of time on his tummy, not a comfortable position for a man with a broken leg.

More soon, right now I need to go and try help Dad get comfy!

Game Plan B?

This weeks game plan. Vision. Sound familiar? Well the big surgery for today was put on hold for tomorrow. How much in the recovery road do we hurry up and wait?

So I guess we will have Monday’s plan on Tuesday.

Please Pray for Dad’s vision. The doctors, care team staff, and everyone trying to make the best decisions possible for Dad’s speedy recovery.

Lots of post eye surgery info to come... eventually :-)

~With Integrity

Monday July 26

This weeks game plan. Vision. Arguably one of the most important functions of the body. I mean sure one can function without sight, but thats not the way we were designed by God. Just look at God’s handiwork. Sunrises, Painted Hills, Night skies... of course Dad would say Balloons in the Sunrises, Painted Hills, and night skies but you get the point.

Vision: Dad has a group of eye guys working on a plan to help him see. Just so we are all on the same page, Dad has partial peripheral vision in his left eye, and the idea is that with the repairing of the lens and other bits he will get “more vision”. Still no vision from his right eye. Essentially his right eye is just not seeing. It is fully intact, it tracks with his other eye and, for the most part, dilates with light. More details will be available as we learn them. Pray for this. Miracles do happen. We have watched countless of miracles so far through this adventure. Perhaps his sudden vision will be added to that list. Perhaps Dad’s positive attitude will impact one of his care team members. We are only tools in the Master’s hands, it is God’s vision that we have yet to see.

At this point it looks like the plan is for Dad to have a surgery tomorrow on his left eye. The eye specialist care team says this surgery has a limited time window, and time is not on our side. Good news? Now is the perfect time in his healing and recovery process for the surgery. This is where it gets interesting. We wont know what the results of the surgery for a few weeks. During this recovery time, Dad has to be either on his stomach or on his side. Did we forget to mention he has a massively broken leg? This is going to be an intriguing few weeks of recovery.

Please Pray for Dad’s vision. The doctors, care team staff, and everyone trying to make the best decisions possible for Dad’s speedy recovery.

Pray for this adventure. Dancing 3 steps forward, we don't know which direction this eye surgery will be. Back, sideways, or...?

~With Integrity

Today is day 36...

It has been a crazy week. Milestones blurring by almost as rapidly as hours in the day. I wonder what to write. Mostly I wonder where to start. How to share all the exciting miracles, encouraging triumphs and hurdles we have faced in the last few days. Bottom line? Dad is doing amazing. Goals have been smashed. We have a long way to go, yet with the seemingly constant barrage from his “family of care” team, Dad has been keeping his spirits up and motivating along. Sure we have been dancing the recovery dance. 3 steps forward, 1 back, 2 to the side and back again. Dad has some days where the medications seem to be working on overdrive confusing and muddling his thoughts, while other days are much better. He is still in a fair amount of pain and trying to think through the narcotics is tough enough, much less focusing through a good rattle to the brain.

We had another eye specialist come in and look at Dad’s eyes. Right now he can only see very limitedly from his left eye. Is this an injury thing that will self correct? Is it some trauma that can be healed? Only time will tell, and Dad’s eye guys are putting a game plan together designed to restore as much sight in Dad’s eyes as possible.

Dad’s fine motor skills are clicking along. Buttoning a shirt is a snap, almost. While working on bringing a spoon to his mouth to eat soup, Dad stopped and thought for a few moments. Then smiled and picked up the bowl with both hands and slurped away. My kids would have been proud.

Dad had a therapy dog come and visit him as well. An unexpected and awesome treat for Dad. Nothing brings a smile to a face better than shakes and snuggles from our hairy 4 legged friends. Maybe one day Dad will have a therapy dog of his own.

Dad is increasing his standing time during his physical therapy. As well as his coordination and upper body strength by wheeling himself around the hospital wing. Imagine the concentrating grin on his face as he, very nearly blindly, follows the voice ahead of him down the path. Steer to your left, now straight, slow down a little you have a wall coming up. Dad asked if he had a special racing wheel chair, because he noticed the wheels had a slight camber to them. He seemed a little bummed to learn his chair was just a “normal” chair. It matters little though because soon Dad will be racing along.

Please continue to pray for Dad’s healing, especially for his sight. Also, please pray for us, his family, as we attempt to maintain some sense of normalcy for ourselves and the kids while trying to make the hour long trip over to see Dad everyday.

Thank you all so much for your constant prayers, please don’t forget to leave a comment so we know you’re there, sometimes I feel like I’m writing to update myself... emails and phone calls work too.

~With Integrity

Milestones

When asked about Dads progress, “big picture style,” I have to stop and look at the gigantic hurdles he has leapt past every day. Thirty-two days of recovery since his mishap. Dad is out of ICU, and into the rehabilitation phase at RVMC.

He is able to talk to us. Dad has been able to drink and swallow blended food. Dad is able to almost hold his own cup with a straw and help his spoon find his mouth. These simple tasks mean he is on the path to rehabilitation. His brain is working at telling his muscles what to do and they are listening. Dad is starting to process tasks like, move your arms this way, move your legs that way. You can hand Dad a small piece of rope with a knot in it, and he can untie it and tie a better one for you. Dad is flying by these milestones. Some of them so fast that we don’t really have a chance to dwell on how awesome they are. Dad is able to think about something he needs or wants, and about 97% of the time is able to express his thoughts clearly to us.

Yesterday the bright sunshine was streaming in through the window. It was causing dad’s eyes to hurt. His face starting squinting. He moved his head from one side to the other. Then he shielded his eyes with his hands. Still this didn't help, finally he asked for sunglasses. These are significant markers along this route. After any brain trauma, the body takes time to rebuild pathways, reboot, and restart all the operating systems. The doctors have said it could take him several years to fully “reboot” his brain. The brain is far more complex than a broken leg and knee. These also take time to heal, but we are able to “watch” the improvement.

In a few more weeks we will know more about the game plan of Dad’s knee. Right now the main goal is to get it healed enough that he can start to put some weight on it. Speaking of weight, today during therapy, Dad stood up. We helped him pull himself forward, and balance on his “good” leg. Three times Dad was able to do this. Each time becoming more steady. Woo hoo! Another milestone surpassed. 32 days in and our first stand up. Soon he will be trotting around the hallways.

Seeing for Dad is a major prayer request. His vision is limited at best. We have a special eye guy putting a game plan together for us to best help Dad. We knew his vision was going to be affected. You smack your face, you see stars at the very least. Dad has one eye that looks like it should be able to have some vision restored. The other eye we might not be so lucky. God knows the ultimate plan while we only can see glimpses. Please pray that the specialists, Dad and us are wise in our decisions during this part of the recovery phase.

So many miracles, so many miles to go.... Give us strength, and peace.

~With Integrity

Today I wanted to make a special note to say SUPER-DUPER THANK-YOU for everyone who has stopped to take a moment and pray for the process of Dad’s speedy recovery. Thanks for the hugs, meals, random distractions, calls, e-mails, text messages, letters, and postcards. These acts and words have helped bolster ours and Dad’s spirits through this journey. Thank you!

Dad had some very special little visitors yesterday. Riley (5) and Corban (3), finally were able to come and hold dad’s hand. Corban, a little bothered with how Grampa looked in his fashionable hospital gown, was cautious to approach the bed where Grampa was resting. Corban clung on to me, yet wanted to see Grampa up close. While I was answering Corban’s questions about Grampa’s owies, he broke into a little song of “I Love You Grampa.” You could see the smile slowly spread across and take over Dad’s face. As we left Grampa’s room, Corban also insisted on saying “amens” for Grampa. “And God, I just bless you to help Grampa feel better,” he said before he skipped away to draw a picture for Grampa of a rocket ship. A little while later Riley was taken aback as she first saw Grampa. Just at the moment, Grampa is not the infallible pusher of swings and mender of broken things. “He is tired and working on feeling better,” I told Riley. Not wanting to be too close to this overwhelming change, she was happy to draw some pictures of Grampa flying in the sky with an airplane and clouds in the background as I visited with Dad. Riley slowly crept closer until she was in my lap. You could see the joy on Dad’s face as Riley’s fingers wiggled in her Grampa’s hand. I overheard one of Dad’s care team saying, “now that’s the best medicine we can get.”

This morning Dad kept asking me where Riley and that nice little boy were. His brain gets things a bit muddled these days. His care team says it will take a while for that to fully resolve. In the meantime, we will continue to reintroduce Dad to his grandkids and watch his face light up at their songs and snuggles.