by Allison Moore | Oct 23, 2014 | Day by Day, Uncategorized |
“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.Our times are in his hand who saith, ‘A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”
― Robert Browning
I had the privilege of photographing a wedding last weekend, and of course hearing the traditional vows struck a sweet chord in me, as Vernon and I repeated the very same ones, both in court and in a fancy ceremony. When we were planning our own wedding, it was suggested that we use the classic vows because, not only were they easier to get through amidst the nerves, whenever we’d hear them again at a ceremony in the future, the words would resonate in our memories and hearts in a personal way.
Though I’m not sure of the exact version we chose, the words were more or less these:
“I, ___ take thee ____ to be my wedded wife/husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till in death we part, and with this ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and pledge my faithfulness.”
You get the gist. A bit antiquated. But certainly meaningful, even if the words aren’t enough in themselves to keep every couple together.
We’ve only been married 8 years, it has not been a long life together. We are in our forties, some might say we got a late start (though it could not have happened any earlier for me.) Fortunately we have been together long enough through richer or poorer, that we’ve stood at least a little test of time and stress together.
More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse. ~Doug Larson
One part of the vow that has been coming back to me over the past 5 months (yes, its 5 months today!) is the “in sickness and in health” part.
Now, I’m no guru of romance, believe me…sometimes I’m surprised we made it even this far. I do think our situation would be incredibly hard to deal with if we were just dating or even newlyweds. The pressure of that commitment would be extra hard if we hadn’t already built a life together, no matter how in love we might have been. But I don’t have to think about the pressure. It’s a non-issue. I’m also not implying that our love is greater than an unmarried couple. I know unmarried couples that are at least as committed as I am, and probably a lot more romantic. Its just that sometimes I think about these vows and that symbolic one-ness that supposedly happens. And I realize… it’s happened.
For better or worse. In sickness and health.
Here is a picture of Vernon’s roommate and his wife. When she visits, she holds his hands and gushes over him. “Let’s not talk about the things that bother us,” I’ve heard her say. “Let’s use this time to talk about US.”
Its no wonder she acts like a newlywed, she told me they have been married for 7 years. There is a picture of them on their wedding day, and a note on the wall, saying: “To the Love of My Life.” Apparently, they had both been married for 50 years or so, and after their spouses each passed away, they rediscovered each other. How wonderful to have a new lease on love and life.
However, in the past few days, I’ve noticed the man has not been doing so well. And it reminds me again that its so different to be a young(ish) person caring for her husband than an old one.
…but that is the point, isn’t it? Till death do us part? Isn’t it the traditional dream to grow old with your love? And if that happens…one has to go before the other. Its honorable, but it must be heartbreaking…and lonely.
So again, I realize how lucky I am to be nursing a husband BACK to health. One day I may nurse my husband as he transitions out of life…or he me. But I don’t have to do it yet. Maybe when the time comes, it will mean more, because we had a second chance. Whereas some people have to navigate their loved one through Alzheimer’s or Dementia, I am doing the opposite. What a privilege to walk him OUT of memory-loss and back into the world of the vibrant and living.
He may not remember my name each day (yet) but he knows who I am…and he knows who to kiss.
by Jen | Oct 21, 2014 | Uncategorized |
Hi Friends,
This is Ali and Vern’s friend Jen, just dropping in for a small update. Last time I posted here, it was mid-August and Vernon had just been transferred to Kindred. I was beaming along with Ali at this great environment for healing. And hasn’t it proven so? Here we are two months since that transition and Vernon is talking with us, proving his strength, and rocking out with us to some of his favorite music…The Jam.
During our visit, we crossed over to the topic of the accident, which I had known he doesn’t fully believe yet. And in true Vernon style, he commented that we “don’t even have documentation“. We thought, well, in fact we do have some proof. And just like we were back up at our office, I got my laptop computer and shared a few photos to show that indeed we did have some documentation. Ali captured this moment below.
It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but we did seem to have his temporary sense of appeasement. I imagine as Vern continues to heal, we may have to recount this story for him from time to time along the way. For now, he says he remembers me, that we rode the train to work together. OK, well today made me smile. I am so thankful to be able to share with you I had my first conversations with our friend in nearly 5 months. A cool moment indeed.
by Allison Moore | Oct 21, 2014 | Day by Day, Uncategorized |
NO. MORE. TRACHEOSTOMY.
by Allison Moore | Oct 20, 2014 | Day by Day, Uncategorized |
In a post script to my last update, I mentioned the phone call from the nurse telling me she had found Vernon kneeling on the floor after he had moved himself somehow from the bed. There were no injuries so it seems he had some control of his upper body and did this on purpose, rather than just flinging himself or falling out of bed. This is the phase of recovery that keeps the staff on their toes!
As you can see here, he is reconnecting to the rebellious side of himself.
Another thing you might notice in this video is the trach tube hanging oddly around his neck. I knew it had been capped and he would have it removed relatively soon, so at first I thought it was just part of this process that it wasn’t attached and that I could see the hole in his neck. When I asked a nurse though, I realized he’d pulled it out himself and suddenly there were 3 other staff members struggling to get a new one in. Getting a trach reattached looks like an unpleasant procedure, so I thought he would remember this and keep from decannulating himself right away. Yes, a new word for me too. It means: planned or accidental removal of a tracheostomy tube. Why not see if you too can drop that word into a conversation today.
But when I arrived home that night, I got another call from the nurse. Oops, he did it again. He re-decannulated! So they have had to use restraints on his stronger arm. The real danger is in his aggitation, he might pull out the new Dialysis Catheter, and that would be very serious. So he is a bit of threat to himself at the moment.
But one thing that the nurse keeps telling me is how STRONG he his. Its quite amazing that he is suddenly coming back in his strength, after all those months of stillness and muscular atrophy. Many of the staff that haven’t attended him for awhile tell me they can hardly believe this is the same guy lying so still and quiet in his bed a month ago, only able to communicate with nods and a squeeze of the hand. In some ways, he’s more work for them now, but I can tell they love seeing the progress and find it as exciting as we do.
These font samples are just some random images I pulled off his website. To my knowledge they are all fonts he designed. I don’t know the names of them all, though they are in wide circulation and use.
Most of you know that Vernon worked as a Type Designer, and even as he has little memory for so many things at the moment, he seems to understand that this was his job and that it was something he enjoyed doing. Maki and my dad, Hyatt, went up to visit Vernon yesterday afternoon and talked to him about fonts and font he designed. Maki began by listing different alphabets he knew his dad had made, and Vernon agreed, yes, indeed he had.
Then Maki asked if he had designed some classic fonts like Comic Sans. “Yes,” Vernon said, he had.
“Helvetica?” “Yes.”
Then my dad joined in with some of his favorites. “Gill Sans?” “Yes.”
Were there any fonts he hadn’t designed? “No.”
Then, having some fun, they went WAY back. They asked him about the letters on the Roman Columns.
“Yes, I designed those too. But I didn’t engrave them. Laborers did that.”
Good to know he didn’t do EVERYTHING.
by Allison Moore | Oct 17, 2014 | Day by Day, Uncategorized |
Every once in a while I return to the Rancho Los Amigos Cognitive Recovery Scale just to gage where or if Vernon has advanced in his neurological function. Basically the scale shows us the stages of recovery for a Traumatic Brain Injury. As a general rule, he longer the person is unconscious, the longer the rehabilitation process. The last time I mentioned this was perhaps 6 weeks or so ago and Vernon was, in my opinion, between a stage 3-4 (there are 10 stages, according to the link above.) Now I would say he is between a 4-5.
But this is very exciting! We have reached the point I had been warned about before where the patient might get so frustrated a their state, they would yell and swear out of frustration or confusion. I was told several rather entertaining stories about others experiencing this, and now I guess our turn has come.
Fortunately, so far, Vernon has been keeping his language relatively polite, but he did yell at me and call me a “Pill” for keeping him from pulling out his IV again. (Could be worse!) He also got mad at me when I wasn’t having him put back in the wheel chair to go with me. And he gets frustrated when I tell him his legs aren’t working. “Yes they are! I CAN walk! Stop being so horrible to me.”
You can see the dark look in his eyes below. Oh the irony that he has never looked so healthy—and like the man I remember.
At least he WANTS to be moving now. At least he doesn’t want to stay in bed all day anymore, even if for the most part, he has to. Its going to be the desire to get up and move out of there that will give him the motivation to keep working hard. And I can see he is just starting to recognize these things.
Though he seemed to remember the accident when he first started talking a couple weeks ago, he hasn’t accepted that since. I have to tell him every day how he got to the hospital and why he is there and whenever I mention “the Accident” he refuses to believe me. Sometimes he gets quite upset: “There was no accident. Stop LYING to me!” He hasn’t come up with another reason he is there. I’d like to hear what he comes up with, it should be pretty creative.
One great thing is that they are keeping the cap on his trach now. It makes it a bit more difficult to talk, but it also means that in a few more days, if all goes well, the trach may be removed completely and the hole in his throat will be able to heal. After that, I believe the next step will be Vernon’s learning to eat solid food again. At this point, he doesn’t seem to have an appetite or an interest in even talking about food.
Other than this, new developments are being able to hold conversations for much longer, and getting fixated on words, names, or memories just outside his reach. But this too, I’m sure, is part of the brain rewiring itself…and maybe the searching for the missing thought is more important than actually finding it.
“Happiness is good health and a bad memory.” —Ingrid Bergman
Update: Shortly after writing this entry, I talked to the night nurse at Kindred saying that earlier today Vernon had moved himself out of bed and was kneeling on to the floor…of course he couldn’t go anywhere, and he wasn’t hurt. But wow! I guess he has got a lot of his strength back…as well as his ‘get-up-and-go.”
by Allison Moore | Oct 15, 2014 | Day by Day, Uncategorized |
Vernon survived another surgery today (insertion of a new dialysis catheter) but we’ve gotten so used to them now…I honestly can’t remember off the top of my head how many he has had. I couldn’t make it up there because I had another surgery to attend, our little Justine’s. So about the same time Vernon was going under anesthesia, she was as well…
I know people tell me I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Maybe I want to. I knew Justine had a couple of cavities: I see them every time I brush her teeth. But with other distractions this summer, I kind of put them off. Insurance had changed, I didn’t know where to take her. I had every good intention of taking care of this sooner, but if I’m honest, I was really hoping someone would just show up and say, “This is the best children’s dentist in town, just around the corner. Here is also a bunch of money to cover all the potential bills, and now that I think of it, why don’t I take her there for you?” And this would have been nice too: “No, of course she won’t need braces later due to your neglect.”
I think in England, as a new mother, I was at first spoiled by the convenience of the National Heath Service. Did you know all kids get fee-free dental care through at least 18? I know, I know…the jokes about the streets of London being paved with teeth are not lost on me. But since moving here, I’ve been confused, trying to navigate the changing world of health care for my family. As usual, it just takes really extreme situations to force me to figure things out. Of course I feel guilty, I don’t care what they say about genetics. How could I have let my sweet child’s teeth rot? I’ve obviously let some important things lapse!
What a wake up call. I thought I was getting on top of the basics: bills, jobs, schoolwork, routine. How did I let something as vital as my child’s teeth slide by?
Still, it all works out somehow. That may be one of my biggest lessons in this. We do make it, despite our fears and lack of organization. We survive….and even thrive. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. I think the things we fear are so much worse in our imagination than when the rug actually gets ripped out from under us.
Anyway, over the past few days I have tried to get myself used to the idea of oral surgery. No big deal for a four year old, right? Happens all the time. A pulled abscessed tooth, a “baby (tooth) root-canal,” and a new silver filling. The worst parts for me were having her shot in the arm with ‘sleepy juice’ and relax, crying, on my lap…then to see her unconscious on a gurney an hour later.
Of course our sweet girl was ADORABLE as she came out of her mini-coma. Here she is showing off the cotton ball—sealing the IV poke on her hand—that is “just like daddy’s.” Sweet soccer bandaid too. I’m sure her dad would approve.
Watching Justine come out of her dizzy-daze was very sweet though, especially in light of Vernon’s recent wakening. She kept asking when she would stop feeling dizzy, when she would learn to walk again, why couldn’t she remember what happened between the dentist’s office and home? I know someone else who is asking the same questions. If only he could jump back as quickly as his kid.
Once she figured it out, she was so excited about her new silver tooth and the fact that her Pre-K classmates might be impressed with her show-and-tell tomorrow. What did I have to worry about? Nada. Anyway, to add to the best day ever: she got a handful of change and a note from the tooth fairy.
Hopefully the tooth fairy won’t be coming back for a couple more years. Even though she is pretty awesome.
I love replacing guilt with awesomeness.
PS Justine has since woken up and discovered the booty tucked under her pillow. Now she says she wants to live with the Tooth Fairy. Well, there are worse things…
