Almost home

I ended my previous post with a visit from a friend and sharing my fears and anxieties.

MONDAY

This day began with Sprite sleeping in, then us heading to the hospital.

When we arrived, a friend of ours was just behind us bringing grilled hamburgers, hot dogs, chips, and cheese puffs.

After we ate, my father in law and Sprite went on a walk through the hospital.

While she was out, Brent completed his resistance band exercises.

Once he finished, he completed some laps around the nurses station of the rehab clinic.

Some meaning 11 laps, unassisted.

Then, got a bug in his shorts to complete and additional 11 laps.

Those 22 laps rounded him at walking a mile, all—->WITHOUT<—-assistance.

After he wrapped up his laps, we went back to his room, where he was able to visit with a friend.

He was sitting in the chair, so I laid in his bed.

Being now 9 weeks pregnant, tired, and all the other variables at play, I was TIRED.

So, to look the part, I began to doze while he visited.

I journaled that his bed was ridiculously uncomfortable and that someone would have to drug me to sleep in it.

Anyway after this visit, Sprite returned on her venture around the hospital.

Unfortunately, she had an accident.

So, I helped her get changed and sent her to Brent.

Upon my return, Brent and Sprite were cozy and snuggled in his hospital bed.

She stayed for a little while, then awoke hungry.

We scurried out to wait for dinner that was being delivered from a friend.

After dinner, Sprite and I went back home for bed.

It was a hard night.

She fought me on absolutely everything.

Brushing her teeth, brushing her hair, picking out pajamas, putting on pajamas, and more.

I was exhausted.

I journaled this to Brent,

This time has been so difficult for the two of us. I know its been difficult for you on your own levels. I have Sprite for less time than I do normally, and she grates my nerves faster. It makes me feel like an incapable mom. It’s awful. And, I know when you get home, I can’t just hand her to you – you need time to readjust and re-cooperate. No guilt intended, just honesty.

TUESDAY

My father in law had to leave around 10 this morning, so I set up a friend to come and hang with Sprite in time for a hospital person swap.

When I finally arrived to the hospital, Brent was already engaged in PT.

This day was different because we did a little disc golf.

And, anyone who knows Brent, knows he loves disc golf – and he’s stupid good at it too.

But, of course, it was an easy, slight movement type of disc golf due to his incisions.

We left PT with given permission to walk off the rehab floor, UNASSISTED, in the hospital.

Y’all, this was a big deal.

No walker. No cane. No wheelchair.

Just his hospital bracelet and a family member.

On our return we ate lunch and moved into another round of PT.

This one was reciprocal steps.

It means simultaneous arm and leg movement up and down stairs.

Not only was our bed at home a decent leg hike, but we also lived in a second floor apartment building.

So, this was a necessity.

He did well.

After he completed the stairs, he moved onto some balance exercises.

I threw a ball at him while he stood on a balance board.

Just before this I received a text message that a friend was bringing me Starbucks coffee.

But, her car wouldn’t start when she came out of the coffee shop.

So, I headed out to pick her up and drive her back to her home.

As I was leaving, my mother in law messaged and said they were giving Brent pain meds because they were going to remove half of his staples.

*wide-eyed*

I knew Brent was nervous about this next step.

So, I asked my mother in law to ask the nurse to delay the extraction until my return.

Thankfully, the nurse obliged.

I returned from helping our friend and within a few minutes the nurse was ready to remove half of the staples.

As he readied himself, I snapped a photo.

It’s jaw dropping to see all that I have expressed, described, and worried about in a single photo.

As he has completed PT, OT, and general activities, he’s been completing them with these numerous staples, stitches, and the pain they’ve caused.

I attempted to talk to him and soothe, but I felt my attempts were a giant fail.

The nurse commented his incisions looked great and the surgeon’s request was to remove every other staple.

It was painful to watch.

Staples are way different than stitches – and as you can see in the photo, he has those too.

38 staples were removed.

This being every other one.

Which changed his staple count to 77 (we found a lone staple in the bed later).

77.

Staples.

And, in the tone of all sales people out there, “But wait!”

While this happened, he was requested for more OT.

OT consisted of holding a 5lb grocery bag in each hand while ascending and descending stairs.

He shifted from that to additional strength tests – which he completed with improved flying colors.

During this time I also received word that someone would be meeting with us about discharge the following morning at 10:30am.

I heard rumors of this from the staff and his parents, but I wasn’t going to believe it until I heard it from the case worker.

Anyway, following OT, we scurried down to the gift shop.

Brent wanted to look for thank you cards for his nurses and therapists.

Seriously.

If you don’t already know – this dude is amazing.

Our friend brought Sprite back to the hospital during this shopping trip, so she finished the leg back to the rehab floor with us.

When we returned, Brent needed to lay down.

He was wiped from all the physical demands of OT and staple removal, not to mention the emotional aspects as well.

So he could rest, my mother in law took Sprite to the cafeteria for a snack.

Before the evening ended, My dad, Lisa, and my niece Alena came back into town to see Brent.

They were delighted to hear and see his progress.

We all packed up his rehab room filled with anticipation for discharge the following morning.

Fingers crossed.

Sprite and I left shortly after for bed.

Unfortunately, she put on quite the show with screaming and refusing all things bedtime.

I know she was feeling everything.

Excitement at the possibility of Daddy coming home.

Fear of him getting sick again.

Trying to adjust to the change over the last few weeks.

It’s a lot for a 3 year old.

And, I think she did magnificently.

Seriously.

WEDNESDAY

This day, and the days following, are completely void of writing.

Because this day, we took him home.

As I type these words I am flooded back with snippets of feelings and thoughts.

I remember sitting in this conference room next to Brent, surrounded by both of our families awaiting the words.

I remember the stiffness of the hospital “chairs” and “couches.”

I remember the feelings of relief and heat of my tears when we finally heard he was officially discharged.

I remember him getting in the car with careful, intentional movement.

I remember that things didn’t just go completely back to normal the minute we left.

I remember wondering what the next few days had in store.

I remember feeling elated and overwhelmed in the same breath.

I remember.

He remembers.

Every May 4th (yes, Star Wars Day), we remember this season in our life.

We are reminded of the turmoil and fear every time we look at his scars for longer than just a glance.

We are reminded that our God is real and ever-present even in the scary moments.

We are reminded that God had a plan with and for this season, far beyond our understanding.

We are reminded that God does amazing things.

We are reminded that God blessed us with amazing friends and church family.

I purposely left names out of these posts, but you know who you are.

Your names are in our journals, our memories, and our hearts.

We are so grateful for walking with us through this.

We are grateful for being the hands and feet of Jesus.

May God be glorified as you read through this particular journey.