“Life must not be a novel that is given to us, but one that is made by us.” —Novalis
My friend Nancy and I met for coffee this morning. She’s been involved with this story since the beginning, so I appreciated the metaphor she offered. I had rolled my eyes at Vernon’s latest situation: once again in an acute care hospital, where the carers, though kind and certainly equipped for the job, are not as relaxed and pro-active than what we have embraced in the past month at Kindred.
Nancy’s take was that watching Vernon recover is like reading a really great book. A long book, perhaps, filled with plot twists and unexpected changes. But the reader sticks with it, no matter how slow it gets in the middle… because she has come to love the hero or at least has become interested in how the writer could (im)possibly resolve things by the end.
As I tend to like really long novels over short stories, I should be able to enjoy a story with lots of ups and down and in our case: backwards and forwards. I don’t know how it will end. But we are not giving up on the story.
I am not surprised how Vernon is being treated at St. Jude’s. We were in an Acute Care Hospital for three months, after all. But though the care is exceptional, they won’t release him until they know the infections are gone from the tube/opening they were charged to remove. And as Vernon’s bedside cheerleader, it’s frustrating. I accept that they are doing their jobs at this new hospital. At the end of the day, his health is the most important thing. These are the viruses that can break a body down and it is good to get on top of them.
But as his wife, as his friend, I want to see him get stronger. I have come to enjoy watching him with his therapists. I like to see him working. I think he probably misses them too, because he seems back to where he was three weeks ago. I prefer to see him stimulated…closer to the man we all know.
BUT…this is a hiccup. The part in the book where we —or maybe HE—wants to give up. But we won’t. We are too far in. We’ve spent too many nights staying up, turning the pages, wondering what is next. We will trust that the Author has a really great story in mind, despite this turn.
These are the words that greeted me as I entered St. Jude’s hospital in Fullerton this morning. What could be more comforting? I hope this unexpected trip to another hospital for a procedure does give Vernon some respite and rejuvenation. If nothing else than by removing the source of his latest infection.
It felt a little strange walking through the halls of a proper hospital again, and what a luxury for him to get his own room. Someone kind had though ahead to bring a few family pictures from his Kindred wall and tape them up in this new space….even though he would stay there such a short time.
The procedure was relatively quick, done at bedside. I realized how desensitized I’d become by being able to watch closely and curiously as the doctors poked and prodded and removed the dialysis catheter, which connects down to the heart. When it was out, they bandaged up the hole. And he will have a little break till tomorrow, when he is returned to the Rehab Hospital (Kindred) and a new catheter will be inserted. In the meantime, they will be running blood cultures and hoping to stop the infection as it is.
I am thankful that he is being tended to whenever a new problem comes up. My hope is that he will be rested and restored enough to work toward physical and mental recovery stronger than before. Rest well tonight, Vernon. Enjoy the little break. We know you’ll be fighting again soon!
“Come to Me, all ye who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
My friend Norm, who has survived cancer and knows about the patience that comes with recovery, has on occasion offered this wise statement about Vernon’s progress:
“It’s like watching an apple grow.”
Apparently that is what his own doctor had said to him. What more specific thing could he have said? There is no time frame to project. Each patient is a different case. We just know its a process…and it seems much slower to those with their eyes glued to the patient.
We could use so many other idioms. Like watching paint dry. Like watching a pot boil. The list goes on…
But I like this apple idea because eventually there is FRUIT at the end of the waiting. Something sweet, nourishing, bright, solid. Something worth waiting for.
Because I see Vernon so often, I don’t appreciate the changes as much as those who maybe haven’t seen him for a few weeks. And it’s so encouraging to hear things from their view. He is moving so much more now. He is much more alert. His movements seem more fluid. Etc.
Back to the apple. Its so good to know we have something to look forward to when the time comes. And there is beauty at every turn. But it is also key for my family to keep their eyes on the other parts of the garden. There are other trees to attend to in the family’s plot: school, work, friendships, spiritual life, creative-expression, physical health, laughter, tears, bills and finances. In some ways having the heavier routine of September life makes watching Vernon’s apple tree that much easier. But no doubt about it, compared to the speed in which we generally live life: his process is slooooooooooow!
A new update for today: Last night Vernon was transferred to St Jude’s Hospital in Fullerton to get another surgery…this time to replace the dialysis catheter. His white blood cell count has been high again and they found an infection in this tube. This isn’t the first time it will have to be replaced…I guess having extra holes punched into your body is an invitation for viruses, the longer they are there. I understand the procedure will happen tomorrow morning. I will be going up tomorrow but I am told he will be there for a few days. Who knows…maybe he will go back to Kindred and find he gets a new roommate…which is what he wanted.
There is always a silver lining.
A drawing I did when I was 20 (found in the depths of my parent’s garage.) Its been sitting by the rubbish bin, a bit too large to fit. So before I finally throw it out, I’ll give it a last life as part of a blog post. An APPLE…I knew it was waiting for something. 🙂
It has been said the clothes make the man. And of course we all know better. How frivolous, how old-fashioned, how superficial.
But when I brought a new T-shirt in to show Vernon today, (thanks Trevor) he couldn’t wait to get into it. He raised his eyebrows in silent approval at the design and reached out for it. Then he started to tug on the snaps of his hospital gown as if he was trying to undress himself. He had been tugging at the front of the gown for weeks, but it was hard to tell if he found the fabric uncomfortable or if he was just agitated in general. I wasn’t sure if Vernon could even wear a T-shirt yet, what with all the tubes and IVs connected to his body.
But we gave it a go. In all my experience with a post-accident Vernon, I’ve never seen him so willing to help us do anything as he was when we were putting on that tee. Not only did he try to tear the gown off his shoulders, he bent his head low to get through the collar, and lifted his strong left hand for the sleeve before we even gave directions.
In his new shirt, he seemed a little more confident when he was placed in his chair and he received a few compliments from the staff as he was wheeled to the gym. I suppose just getting out of the hospital gown gave him a slightly better sense of identity, as if to say: “I’m different. I’m not just one of these patients. I’m not here to stay.”
“Know first who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly.”
– Epictetus
I’m actually quite glad to know that Vernon doesn’t recognize himself as an old man in scrubs. That has got to be a good sign of his mental awareness. Even in the above picture, he looks more like the man we know and love.
Vernon was a self-employed designer, he’s never needed to dress up much, he is most comfortable in tee-shirts and corduroys or jeans. But where I get a thrill over finding two for $20 tees at H&M, Vernon takes a lot more care into choosing his basics. They have to feel right, have to be cut right. Lets just say he spends a lot more money on a single clothing item than I do, even though most people wouldn’t know it. He has never been showy, but personal style is important to him. His is a subtle, understated classiness. He must have felt terrible wearing that hospital gown, seeing all the other patients wearing the same standard-issue cloth.
And it isn’t frivolous. A little bit of self-respect, personal choice can make a huge difference to a rehabilitation patient, trying to make sense of everything in his new surroundings. Perhaps its the beginning of recognizing the person in the mirror he wants to get back to.
“Looking good isn’t self-importance; it’s self-respect.”
– Charles Hix
So guess who called me today? Or maybe I should rephrase that. Guess who I spoke with on the phone?
VERNON!
I know! Can you believe it?
On Wednesdays I don’t go to Brea, so Pilar, the speech therapist called to say Vernon had been very talkative with her this morning and that he would like to talk to me on the phone. I certainly didn’t know what to expect when she put the phone to his mouth, but we almost had a conversation. I couldn’t understand much but I could HEAR him…and he did respond audibly to my questions. It was very sweet and such a surprise after the sluggish last few days.
Especially because I did understand the “Bye. I love you.” at the end.
… to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.
I’ve been thinking about these vows a lot this summer. Though Vernon and I had a wonderful wedding ceremony in front of our friends and family, we actually got married first for visa-paper’s-sake a week or so before the big event. It was just at the closest courthouse, we weren’t dressed up, and we only had young Maki as a witness. Apparently, the state of California only required someone who could write his first name and initial his last: fortunately for us, that was just the limit of what Maki was able to do.
It was meant to be a non-ceremony, just something to get the immigration paperwork moving. 4-year old Maki, besides marking this important signature, bore the responsibility of carrying two plastic rings we had just bought for change at the Toys R Us on the drive up.
The pretty young Korean girl who had signed us in sent us into a room to wait for the “judge.” We went in, giggling at the weird decor and the silliness of the whole event. When the door opened again, it was the same girl from the desk, now in a serious-looking robe, with a demeanor to match. SHE was the judge. Suddenly we weren’t laughing either. When we talked about it later…it was so strange we both had the same memory…even to the very feeling of the moment.
She had us repeat the vows after her…the most traditional vows we had heard dozens of times before. They had seemed so trite until we were saying them ourselves. For both of us, in that plain little room, it was as if a portal had opened and with our words, we were changed. Some deep spiritual shift had happened. I know I’m very romantic so I just assumed I was looking for the poetry of the moment. But Vernon told me after that he felt the same way. It was the strangest, unexpected moment that bonded us somehow…and we would remember it often as we told our story over the coming years.
But today is Sept. 16. This is our official anniversary. The day our best friends and family were witnesses. My wonderful dad officiated, having got his online-credentials weeks before. I was annoyed because it had to fall on the day after my birthday…meaning one of the two events would get swallowed by the other in the years to come (meaning LESS gifts for me—I see now that spells meaningless. Yep.)
This is how I remember it. The warmth, the friends, the love, the light. It all went by so fast, though.
And here is Maki, age 4: our best man.
An orange tree was planted in that garden at the end of the night. Recently I went back to visit (as the garden belongs to a dear life-friend.) Here is Justine by our tree, eight years later. She is the same age now that Maki was then: four.
On another post, I will write about what those vows mean to me now, as I have been thinking about their significance. But today I celebrate the fruit. We’ve made it 8 years. Two countries, four houses, some kids later…why shouldn’t we celebrate?
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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