Our weekend nurse, Karen, saved this meme from her Facebook and brought it in to show Vernon. I love his nurses: they don’t forget about their patients even when they go home.
Anyway, her message is spot-on. I remember ages ago, when I was watching some BBC news segment, young Maki said: “Alli, you shouldn’t watch the news. Didn’t you know that not watching the news is the second key to happiness?”
“Really? What is the first?” I asked, surprised and pleased by his authority on the subject.
“Deciding to be happy.”
Well I guess they are teaching them good stuff in schools after all. At least kids are listening to the good stuff, anyway.
I do decide to keep a positive attitude with this ordeal. And its not like its Easy Street, but when I remember the alternative at are at any stage, I am relieved and thankful. Things become a lot more clear in the middle of a life/death journey, I suppose. (Maybe you’ll have to remind me of this when life gets back to normal…or the new normal.)
The Big Miracle is that Vernon is alive. After that, its just getting used to new things and seeing little miracles along the way. After the big miracle of survival (the doctors have said that had he skidded and damaged the organ of his skin at all that night, just that one injury more, he would not have survived the night.)
At this point, its ALL GOOD—as long as we aren’t moving backward. And even then, sometimes it still is…
Today our good news that is that Vernon has contracted a surprise infection. They have removed his PCCT line but are testing the cultures this week to find out what it could be. Why is this good news?
Because he stays in the hospital. I know the staff can get on top of this with antibiotics, just as they have before. And this buys him more time to recover in this place, close to home. The money/insurance people at the hospital probably wouldn’t like this post because its pretty expensive real estate we are taking up, as it but as long as we have the extra time, I’m still hoping that he can continue to move off the trach in his neck, which again will open up more rehabilitation options. At the moment, Vernon is still making too much secretion in his chest for the doctors to close the trach, but the longer he stays in one position, the more his chest will have this problem.
I have been pushing the nursing staff to put an order in for Physical Therapy assessment. Apparently they have been waiting for him to be more awake. I am beginning to understand how inter-related all these areas of recovery are.
As far as watching the news, I don’t recommend too much of it these days. Take it in small doses, its pretty bad out there. If you must watch it on tv, I recommend watching it in a hospital room, or even the waiting room, if you get the squeamies. It makes it doubly surreal.
I read a post last night by the amazing Anne Lamott. She was trying to make sense of the world falling apart seemingly all at once this month. Here is her conclusion:
“I take care of my own. You are my own, and I am yours–I think this is what God is saying, or trying to, over the din. We are each other’s. Thee are many forms of thirst, many kinds of water.”
I don’t know if this helps any of you…but it helps me.
For a couple of weeks now, I’ve been feeling the analogy of putting on a scuba suit, at least a mask and breathing tank, preparing to go under and bring my husband back to the surface. Not that I really can, of course…he is surfacing on his own, in brain and body. But still I look for ways to get in there myself…not just sit and wait. I am toughening up, learning to conserve oxygen and energy, preparing to survive in yet another foreign environment…especially as we expect to be moved to a rehabilitation center (yet again…it was put off for a couple of weeks, but the hospital staff is preparing us for our move.)
The other night, while dining at a restaurant, an older couple at the next table struck up a conversation. Before long he was describing his own 3 month ordeal of being, in his words, “out under the sea.” He described how his wife of fifty years, who happened to be a rehab nurse herself, would show up in his the dream he was experiencing. He said: “I would be back in the memory of a childhood classroom or out deep sea fishing on a boat and my wife kept showing up. I kept thinking: ‘What is SHE doing here?'” As a rehab nurse, she said he was her most difficult patient ever because he was so stubborn. But she also said it was her stubborn patients that were the ones who excelled at recovery. This 75 year old man had got his life back, learned to walk and talk again, even though he didn’t have the strength of youth on his side. And both of them appreciated each other more than ever. They joked sweetly like young lovers and best friends. It was a magical conversation.
I loved that he mentioned being out at sea, as I had been thinking of this analogy and working on these little paintings, wondering how I might best come alongside my husband, wherever he is in his mind.
For all I know he is having a great time and wonders why I keep showing up in his dream. Perhaps he is unlocking the mysteries of the universe. Deep sea treasure hunting. I hope he remembers when he surfaces completely.
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
(Psalm 139)
Many of you know that Vernon is a font designer. Over the years, he has done a lot of alphabets for Google Web Fonts. Because he is a free-lancer, we have been up and down with income, but nothing made him happier than knowing he could do what he loves to provide for the family. Such is the way of those crazy artistic types, I guess.
He had a really exciting contract about to begin the week after the accident, but obviously that won’t be done within the time allotted for it. Still, here is DAVE, his long term colleague to the rescue. Dave flew in from New York for the weekend to go through Vernon’s computers, hoping to find some unfinished work he can subcontract or at least monetize. I am so grateful for Dave’s commitment to his old friend.
Here he is, setting up shop in our dining room. The balloon is Justine’s, not his, though we would have welcomed him with balloons if we thought of it. Sorry, Dave.
Chris Adams (Vernon’s brother from another mother and side-business parter) made sure he was looked after as well: with dinner out, a ride to the airport, paddle-boarding (some working weekend, guys!) and of course a visit to Vern’s bedside. The highlight of any Southern California trip, for sure!
Of course even there, the boys made Vernon work. (Even on a Saturday. Sheesh!) Here they are getting him to respond to handwritten signs.
“Hi Vernon: MOVE YOUR THUMB!”
Actually he has been moving his thumb (and the rest of his fingers) a lot all weekend. In fact, he was moving them so much I thought we should start preparing him to go back to work a little himself.
The nurse mentioned a previous accident trauma patient who couldn’t move much until he was given his old guitar and then his fingers found their placement immediately. I figured his laptop is where his fingers spent most of their old time, it might be time to introduce them to an old friend.
And so we close the weekend with another quote from our beloved Maya Angelou: “Nothing will work unless you do.” Work it, Vernon. You are doing great!
Tonight marks the beginning of week 9. 63 Days. And though it feels slow when I when I watch so closely everyday, Vernon continues to recover.
Oh Brain! You magnificent and mysterious creature! If only I could see what steps you are making under the skin. But it isn’t really about me, is it? The healing is happening every day, every night. It has been from the moment Vernon arrived at the hospital. Sometimes I go back to that night and remember that the main miracle already happened. That he survived the accident, he survived that night of the 5 surgeons working together till morning. And now…sigh…this is the good part. Its so long and this kind of patience is new to us, but its the gift we get to have.
And so even though I’m tired today, I give thanks.
And speaking of gifts, here is a very special one I’d like to share. Jenni Ahonen (whom I may have mentioned before) was one of Vernon’s classmates in his Master’s Course of Type Design. She is a wonderful illustrator and type designer who lives in Finland. When she heard about Vernon’s accident, she began an “alphabet of healing” which she has started sending to Vernon, one letter at a time.
Aren’t these wonderful? I can’t think of a more valuable alphabet to collect. I hope she doesn’t make it through the whole alphabet, in some ways…but if she does…well, more beauty for him!
Vernon continues to make steps toward his recovery, more alert every day. I can’t tell much more about it until the doctor gives the ok, but I am seeing some big steps to his recovery from the trach. Much better breathing…hoping that very soon he can be off it completely. That’s what I want… and what I am pushing for, but obviously the doctors know best. Still, a little squeaky wheel action from the wife can’t hurt.
Just for fun: if you would like to enjoy a little bookshop-themed music as background for tonight’s post from one of Vernon’s fave bands,cmd/click here.
I arrived at the hospital early today, thinking if Vernon wasn’t in an “entertaining mood,” I’d catch up on a little light summer reading. These are some wonderful books that people have passed my way lately. And really, what is more fascinating then the human brain?
Thank you, mysterious gifter, for this last book, btw. Looks like a great and easy-to-read guide.
I was restless at the hospital. Yesterday, Vernon’s active time was in the morning (when I was working elsewhere) and so I missed out on the fun in the afternoon. Today I got there early, but he was tired, so I felt annoyed that he wasn’t ready to work. I figured I might as well do something with myself, where I wasn’t as focused on his timing or situation.
So I took a field trip to a nearby bookstore. I wanted to read, to learn, but not in the hospital room. I needed a break as much as Vernon.
I’m ashamed to admit it has been a long time since I’ve hung out in a proper bookstore. Mostly because there aren’t as many as there used to be. This Barnes and Noble was a little out of the way, but worth it.
When I got there, I just wanted to watch people that were standing still, not on their phones. I almost felt like I was on a layaway at an airport between journeys. What would I do with my time? Watch people. Wonder where they were going? Look at magazines.
But it really did feel like a trip to a faraway place. How surreal life has become that a visit to a bookshop filled with strangers becomes like a refreshing outing to another city.
Maybe I was just surprised to find that people still read books. I’m not shaming, I know how hard it is to find the time.
I found myself so curious about everyone I saw. Just like I am at the hospital. What are they here for? What is going on in that mind? Where are they hoping to go next? All these wonderful brains getting fed…
“I love walking into a bookstore. Its like all my friends are sitting on shelves, waving their pages at me.”
―Tahereh Mafi
Of course when I focused on books instead of people, I found myself in the science section. (Until this season, a no-go zone.) I don’t know exactly what I want to learn yet, but it has something to do with brains and comas and recovery. I was happy to discover just a corner on the brain-book market. My favorite title today (no picture, sadly) was “Neurosurgery for Dummies.” Can you imagine seeing that on your doctor’s shelf?
I just skimmed a few of these tomes, but one thing that kept popping out is that how much healing is done when the brain is kept quiet for some time. Another thing that stood out was how many people discover a deep spiritual awareness and personal-bettering after serious brain trauma.
We will have to wait for Vernon to tell us his opinions on these points, but I have a feeling it will be worth the wait. A friend even suggested later today that maybe part of the reason he is taking so long to come back to our normal life is that what he is experiencing is actually very special and too valuable to rush. That certainly gives pause for thought.
I didn’t actually buy a book in the end, but did leave with this souvenir mug:
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
And when I did get back to the hospital I was glad I’d taken the break, because Vernon and I were both ready to focus on work together again. He was ready to start moving his hands and follow directions and I had the patience and hope again…and there was no place I’d rather be than with him and his progress.
“Everywhere I have sought peace and not found it, except in a corner with a book.” ― Thomas a Kempis
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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