Just dropping by to check in and see how y'all are doing in here, and to tell of our walk of faith and trust.
Yesterday my nephew turned forty-six years old; a day my family thought wouldn't happen. It's been a walk of "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen", since December tenth last year. His brother told me that Richard started feeling really bad, could barely walk and they called 911, when ems got there they told him that Richard might not make it to the hospital. When he got there they discovered that his arota had ruptured in two places, and they started looking around for a hospital that could do the repair and handle any complications, UT Southwestern said they had a team that could go soon, so he was Careflited to St.Paul, and we were told again that he might not make it the though the 10 minute flight.
My sister said they told them to go ahead and start to St. Paul, that they'd be there before them, and they saw the helicopter going over them as they drove , and they pulled up as they were taking him out and into the ER. He then had an eight hour open heart surgery, and had family and friends fill the waiting room with prayer and hope. His doctors came out and told us he was doing good, no damage to his heart (in fact, they said his heart was in very good condition,), that between 75 to 90 % percent of those with a tear ( John Ritter had one and died before he hit the floor), don't make it to surgery.
On Wednesday afternoon he had a stroke and was move down to Zale Lipsky, where he had surgery to remove his skull cap. He had some wonderful nurses and they went with him and stayed with him that night in recovery.
When I drove up to the valet parking I saw an ambulance, and they were taking him out as I was walking toward the door, and I told them that he was mine, thanks for taking care of him and they asked if I wanted to go in the elevator with them, and you know I said yep, and rode up with him. He looked so bad. Stitches down his chest, tubes about every where there could be. It was hard to maintain and not cry.
The nurses had called ahead and had pizza and sandwiches set out for us in a waiting room that every hospital should have. Comfortable recliners with blankets, a kitchen, an outdoor patio and a view of downtown Dallas. There were cards, jigsaw puzzles, books, and magazines on tables help pass the time to. We couldn't complain about anything, it had all been taken care of for us.
His doctor told us they were removing a section of the right side of his skull so it could swell and hopefully not cause further damage, but he came out after and told my sister that he saw 80% dead brain and wasn't sure if he'd make it or what quality of life he'd have. It was not what we wanted to hear, but we were prepared for whatever happened.
My brother went in to see him for a few minutes on Friday afternoon, and they had my nephew woke up a little doing maintenance and vitals, and when he heard my brother speak to him he opened his eyes and gave a thumbs up. We had been told about loss of hearing and vision and it gave us hope. I saw him the next afternoon and he was a little awake then and he nodded his head when I spoke, and when I was leaving I touched his left foot and he moved it. We had been told he was paralyzed on his left side, and that small response was wonderful to see.
On Monday his blood test showed that the MRSA bacteria present and gloved and gowned up til her left the hospital.
He went through much more. He was sent back down to St. Paul for a second surgery because of seepage from one of the staples holding his breastplate together: then a temperature of 106, and fluid on his pancreas that turned out to be a yeast infection because of all of antibiotics he was on. He was in ICU and on a ventilator for almost two months, and in late February he finally was moved to a regular room, and his sons took turns staying with him at night and one of us during the day.
He was sent back to Zale Lipsky for his stroke and rehabilitation and was there until April. My sister had a meeting with his doctors and they said he had made all the progress he could and would be in a nursing home the rest of his life, and she said her boy wouldn't be in one; he was coming home with her and he was released April tenth. It was beyond amazing in how things fell into place to get his room ready, and again family and friends lined up to sit with him and take care of his needs, and we settled him in and learned as he did, in how to take care of him. He still had an IV, a drain for his pancreas and more antibiotics until it was taken out in late May.
At his last doctor visit and more x rays and cat scans his doctor asked him what happened to his spleen. It was there in April but was missing in his September scans. One of life's little mysteries I guess.
He is in therapy and can walk with a crutch device for short distances, and they are getting longer each day. When he thinks real hard he can move his right hand and it is also getting better. His therapists told us they have seen people walk after being told they never would again and they didn't give up on them.
His sisters, his brother, our kids, and his friends stayed with him all that long night, just wanting to be close and not leave him all alone, and took pictures of him so he could see how far he'd come when he got out, and they made a video for him of their thoughts and memories of their times they had with him, (They all had grown up with family vacations; we were like a caravan traveling in mass to Eureka Springs,, Turner Falls, where we had annual trips to a big lodge that could sleep over twenty people and to many lakes and state parks, until my two sisters and I built a family cabin in East Texas) and how much he meant to each one of them.
They have plans on taking him to the cabin, smoking a brisket and ribs (his favorite foods) watch it with him, sit out under the stars he's fished under many years, telling stories and tall tales until early morning, and maybe it's rain and he can fall asleep with the sound of rain falling on the metal roof.
We've made the mistake of teaching him Canasta and now he calls me everyday around lunchtime and tells me I'm late and I go play a few hands with him. Next week I'm teaching him to play chess and I know he'll chase me around the board until he captures my queen and I give up, but hes' worth every bit of it.
Anyway thanks for the shoulder, It's always there when needed.
