The first official week of summer has come to an end…and I’m exhausted. I think I took about three or four naps this week, slipping them in when I could. Thank you to all those kid-sitters who bailed us out in a busy week on the Vernon front. I found by the middle of the week, I didn’t even know what day it was…there is something to be said for the daily routine of the school day and after-school activities. I realize how much the kids are my anchor to the calendar.
And yet, after just a week, I’m starting to get into the flow. I’ll call my tiredness the jet-lag of summer. I’m sure I’ll experience it again on the other end. We’re already enjoying the luxury of waking up earlier, not having to leave the house till after nine, longer snuggles in the morning, coffee in the suddenly-bright backyard. Outside of swimming lessons, Justine has been in someone’s pool every other day. And whenever possible, we have gone down to the beach in the evenings for a walk. We hunt for sea glass—which we find every time. I love the honing in, the quest, the finding those bright spots of green in the zillion grains of sand. Beauty is like that. It can be a challenge to find it sometimes: but suddenly, its the only thing you see. The key is to keep looking.
But often we find other things…tuna crabs washed up in a crooked tide-line of red and pink (some still moving, at Justine’s shock/delight), blue valella (little wind-sailing non-stinging jellyfish), tiny sand crab skeletons…the sea is always offering new gifts from below the surface. For me, just to feel the wet sand in my toes and absorb those negative ions is a revelation at the end of the long day. No matter how annoyed I was at life throughout the day, I can feel the weight lifting. Both of us are better people by the time we come home. These tools for happiness are at our disposal and we love to use them. The gratitude comes in waves, refreshing us again.
“To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.” — William Blake
Today was the day…I met Vernon and his wonderful EMT team, who rolled him via gurney to the Newport Orthopedic Institute in Irvine. The waiting room was busy, filled with patients, but the young woman at the desk was more helpful than any receptionist I’ve met on this journey yet. She told me not to worry about his being late, but that he could immediately go wait in a room down the hall. I make a point of saying this because it can be terribly awkward at these consultations, having to wait with Vernon with everyone else, especially if its a very long wait—or as has happened before, he’s turned away. We had a private place to wait and chat and were attended to pretty quickly after his arrival.
This was the first time I’d seen the x-rays from last week. I knew a plate had broken in his arm, but I couldn’t understand how it had happened or even where it was, exactly. Here’s a phone photo I took of the screen. That’s not just a broken plate—that’s a broken BONE.
So even after his initial surgery in May 2014, Vernon’s arm never completely healed. The ulna healed but not the radius (if I’ve got my anatomy in order.) It’s been fractured for two years, held together by tiny metal brace, which recently broke, apparently from simple wear and tear. The surgeon, Dr. Leiber, told me that the brace is really just like a paper clip holding it together, its not meant to do it for long. Twist it a couple times and it holds up, but you can only do that so many times before it snaps. I can hardly believe after all this time, we find that bone never healed.
Dr. Leiber told us the options. Surgery would be somewhat risky, due to Vernon’s need for dialysis and the shunt in his upper arm. For the bone to have a chance to heal, a bone graft would be required. He said it would probably be taken from the pelvis, and that the pain from that would likely be worse than from the arm surgery. I asked what the other option was, and he said, “you can leave it as is.” Really? I can’t imagine that leaving it like this for long wouldn’t make things worse.
My immediate response was to say yes to the surgery. Is there really another option? Vernon’s been showing such cognitive improvement lately (he’s remembering my name every day now and has for a few weeks straight) so I asked him what he thought. This was the first time that we’ve been dealing with doctors and surgeons that he could speak for himself. This was indeed the silver lining today.
“I’ll have the surgery, I’d like my arm fixed.”
“Even if it hurts, Vernon?” I asked.
“What’s a little more pain?” he answered.
I told the doctor it was worth the risk because after all, Vernon’s right arm is withered and of very little use, and he’s a painter.
“This is my painting arm,” he said, waving it at the doctor.
He’s booked for surgery on July 7. There are a lot of pre-ops to be considered, including his history of MRSA. I’d like it to be much earlier, but I’ve done everything in my power, so I’ll choose to trust that the timing is right.
I saw this on the way out…what a marker for our path.
Vernon was sent home from the ER the other night with a recommendation to see a certain orthopedic surgeon, who, it turned out, didn’t take Vernon’s Medi-Medi insurance. I was bracing myself to pay the cash for today’s appointment, but then I got a call from the case manager at Mesa Verde, telling me that doctor wouldn’t see him at all, regardless of cash. She and the social worker reported today that they’d called every other place they could think of, but no one would see him till late next week. We were concerned about this because his arm needs to be fixed soon. He can’t keep it elevated and refuses to keep the brace and bandaging off, if he can get them off himself.
I am especially concerned about future problems, in particular infection. We’ve been down that road before, but not over his previously broken bones. So since I already had a babysitter for Justine, I went up to see him anyway, even if the appointment had been cancelled. The case manager, doctor, and I all agreed we were worried about waiting till late next week so we had him sent to the ER yet again. I feel bad taking up more resources if they aren’t necessary, but I was feeling at a loss. And I don’t like that these things take so long (or don’t happen at all.) Where I have some control, I want to utilize it, I guess.
Also its a rare time that I can actually be with him in the hospital (often he is sent at night and I’m home with the kiddos so I do things over the phone…if I’m lucky.) So we wanted to take advantage of the afternoon window. I’m glad I did, because I was able to explain in person what was going on. The (youngest yet) doctor assigned to his room heard me out and looked over his x-rays. He thinks its going to be okay for a few more days but the brace needed to replaced. This time, they got serious with layers of wrap.
Adding to the list of things I’ve never seen before, they used a special kind of bandage to wrap him up inside all those layers of gauze and netting: an air drying bandage wrap, which hardens like a light cast. I hope it lasts till Thursday, when we have our appointment in Irvine with a specialist. I’ll believe it when it’s over, but for now it’s on the calendar. My hope is that he can get surgery that day and this won’t continue to play out for weeks.
We’ve got other things to do!
PS…Maki is back in New Zealand now with his other family, surely having a great time.
And guess what? Vernon remembered. 🙂
PPS (half an hour after posting this) I just got the call from Mesa Verde that Vernon has already taken off his soft cast. Why am I not surprised?
I’m waiting for a call from the ER, letting me know what Vernon’s status is, and whether he will be admitted overnight or sent home again. I’m worried about his arm.
On Wednesday, I noticed some swelling on his left arm. Every day it got worse, and today it looked like one of Popeye’s forearms. Yesterday, x-rays exposed that the plate embedded to heal his fractures two years ago had broken. I didn’t see the x-rays so I don’t know what that looks like specifically, but I can’t think of how that could have happened…unless it was Monday’s fall, which seemed pretty gentle, though again…I wasn’t there.
That said, he wasn’t complaining of pain unless it was touched, and he was able to play a hand of UNO with us. He’s apparently been asking to join in when he sees the other patients play from time to time…Joe told me this and told me that he’ll try to make it happen now that he sees he can play. He’s also been asking to look at Facebook, Joe says. This must be because he’s been more interested in looking at his friend’s pages, and though he can’t type yet, he is starting to find his way around on his own.
I just got off the phone with the ER. I still don’t know for sure, but it sounds as if he will be sent home. He does have a pending orthopedic appointment, hopefully for tomorrow, so if they don’t do anything at the hospital tonight, hopefully the next round of doctor can help him.
Some exerpts one of Vernon’s letters, 14th Jan 06. He was coming to the end of his divorce and staying with his parents, taking odd jobs and applying for grad school. I’d be visiting him in England soon.
“I’m worried that when you see me in my present environment, you will feel disappointed: I don’t feel that I am the true me at the moment; I have no home, most of my possessions are scattered or in storage. I want you to know this Alli—I am not totally what I will be, when you visit: I am much much more than this. Hmm I guess if you like me like this, then you would like me even more when I get to be 100% back to living the way I ideally do.”
The context is very different, but what a note, right? I feel like his younger self was giving words to his older post-tbi self. I can look at Vernon, while I’m reading this and feel it’s exactly what he would be telling me now, if he could put it like that.
He then went on to dream about a future where we would support ourselves by being creative. His words spoke even now to some of my own neglected dreams.
“I have decided this is what I want…a home with you and a Saab automatic. Don’t mind how I get it but I hope part of it gets paid for by being creative. If most of it comes from doing something non-creative, then its a fair deal. Having said that, you and I have so much ability and talent that one day we should expect to reach all our income from doing what we are gifted to do. Something tells me you think like this too. And something tells me that you have the ability to manage to do it too: you may just need the right type of supportive partner to give you the right base to rest on to work at your best. Do you think that’s true? Few people are at their strongest when truly independent.”
Few people are at their strongest when truly independent.
“Um…lack of words…errr…What can I write about? We write to each other sooo much!! Ahh maybe I can daydream more. Is it right that in good memories and in daydreams, the sun is always shining? Maybe that’s why I think of you and me living in California? Because when I try to imagine the future, the sun is shining? Maybe that’s why I think of you and me living in California? Because when I try to imagine the future, the sun is shining!! I drive in my automatic car: the sun is shining We walk together: the sun is shining. We walk in our bed in the morning: the sun is shining.”
We didn’t live in California for many years, but since he’s been at Mesa Verde, I have often thought in gratitude that he does live in a perfect climate town and whenever I visit him there, we are able to sit outside and most days of the year, the sun is shining.
Oh…and also a picture from Justine, found in her bring-home bag at the end of the year.
“Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”— John Muir
Just a few more days left of school. A few days of finals at the high school for Maki and then he’ll be off to New Zealand. Justine just celebrated her official sixth birthday on Friday and will be a flower girl for the first time next weekend. It suddenly feels like there is a lot going on. What better way to deal with all of that than to run away together for a couple of days?
Actually it wasn’t just us…Maki’s “village” came too. That’s what I call Chris Adams and Scott and Sarah Hendrix, three friends in particular who have gone out of their way to take him to the climbing gym, movies, meals out, and even math study sessions. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and I know Maki and I both appreciate it.
Since they all love climbing, we based ourselves in the mountain town of Idyllwild, about a two hour drive. It worked out great. We rented a four bedroom airbnb cabin and the four of them took off to climb big boulders while I mostly stayed behind to watch Justine and Chris’ son, Zephyr, her dear buddy. So I didn’t get any climbing photos this time, but I did follow the littles around as they explored the woods nearby.
Kids in the forest? Muses in magic! Of course I was happy just following them around with my camera. We also went into town and bought ice cream and I let them play Angry Birds inside while I took a little time to paint on the deck. It was win win for all. Later in the day, we all joined together for food and I got my break to take walks alone. Later still, the gang would watch rock climbing movies projected on a white sheet taped high on the cabin wall. It was perfect, something for everyone…all at the same time.
Here’s a local from one of the few shops (and something from his collection). Worth the trip in itself.
I am getting in a pretty good habit of packing art supplies whenever I go away (at least by car) and so I forced myself to paint/draw a pinecone—they were everywhere. Not an easy task, as it turned out. My mind struggled so much to figure out the layers and remember where I’d left off…it was almost painful.
But I pressed on, because I thought about Vernon, and all the exercises we set for him, artistically and otherwise, hoping to that his brain will make new connections. He’s a natural, obviously, but look how hard it is to rise above when you don’t trust what you already have in you…somewhere. But what if we all are—naturals, I mean—underneath our stubborn brains that can’t translate what is right in front of us because it just seems too intricate and impossible. What if we can do anything if we just keep working on it?
I got lost (and frustrated) somewhere in there, but it was a good mind exercise. Hopefully, it grew a little. I know my soul did.
So…now we are back down the mountain, already started on our last busy week as a threesome, energized and refreshed. Thanks, kids. Thanks, Village. Thanks, Woods. Thanks, God.
A special cover of Vernon's fav song 'Waterloo Sunset' by friend and singer/song-writer Ian McGlynn. All proceeds support Vernon's recovery! Donate what you can and download a beautiful song in return.
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