The Riding of the Bikes
I’m having a great time here in New Zealand, I got a bike and now im having fun riding it araund today weve been to a bmx track and the two little ones maniged to go Down some bumps, and i was of course wering a helmet.
The Mystery of Music
“The soul is composed of harmony.” ―Leonardo Da Vinci
“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.”
― Nikola Tesla
” Rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul.” ―Plato
I won’t pretend to understand the complexity of these concepts, but I can tell you that I’m witnessing a change in Vernon whenever he hears live music. I have been trying to keep recorded music that he likes going on behind the beeping and whirring and chatter in the room, but I have noticed that its the real voices and instruments in the room that he responds to. He either becomes very alert or very relaxed, sometimes even to sleep. Either way, there is always an improvement, at least for a little while.
Music has long been known to be a great emotional connector, but I don’t believe Vernon is back in the realm of emotions yet. As is to be expected, he goes in and out of lucidity (and maybe even that is a stretch of a word?) I get frustrated that he doesn’t stay in “my” moment for long, but I know that when he gets one of these little concerts (even simple strumming on a guitar with no particular song in mind) he seems more strongly connected. When he is storming and can’t even give me a responsive squeeze of the shoulders, I am finding that after music, he seems to get physically and mentally focused again. Even if all I get is a squeeze to ” Did you like the music?” Even if it takes all the energy he has, I get that big, quiet “Yes.”
Modern medicine is amazing. I keep hearing how wonderful this hospital is for head trauma. That it is perhaps the most innovative and specialized in the country. How blessed are we for that? But medicine and technology and know-how can only go so far. Music seems to be the mystical balm of vibrations and spirit that helps connect the scrambling dots, that fills the cracks, that reaches the soul.
So…if you are a musician feeling discouraged that what you do isn’t appreciated, that it isn’t seen as art, have you considered it might be medicine? That you might carry healing in your own hands? Let it out, see where it goes…its a mystery, let it be a part of an even greater one that includes others who truly need it.
Here are a some of Vernon’s visiting healers from this week. Perhaps one of you might be moved to help minister to Vernon’s soul/brain connections. I want to make sure he has someone every day. (You know where to reach me.)
This is Vernon’s good friend Chris Owen, who has been bringing his guitar in from the words, “Yes, its okay, Vernon’s brain might be able to handle some music, I suppose.” Thank you, Chris. You have been ministering to his soul this whole time. We love your improvisational flow. Inspired.
The huge-hearted Gary Rea, who turned the room into a corner of heaven. Notice how the nurse couldn’t bring herself to close the door all the way. The entire ward wanted to get a bit of the music-magic.
My new friend, Donna, one of my mom’s printmaking students, has a passion for music-therapy and wow, what a gift to have her bring her beautiful harp into the room. She even played “Stairway to Heaven.” What a privilege. Thank you, Donna.
This is my dear friend Kirsten, who has a voice Vernon has always likened to an angel. And Chris Lizotte, who I like to think of as “My Own Personal Tom Waites.” Such a cool, loving guy. Words cant express how beautiful their music was for me…and I’m sure for Vernon.
One of my dearest besties in the world, Melissa (another talented musician) sharing a laugh with Dialysis Dave, another Brit, who seems to think he can reach his coma-patient through dry humour. It is possible. Especially with hilarious Melissa in the room. We were laughing so hard that the sliding door had to be closed as there was a trauma patient coming through. It’s like being shushed in a library. heheheh.
World class guitarist and friend of Vernon’s, Marc Ford. Thank you Marc for playing from the heart. Your tears brought healing as much as your music did. Needless to say, we had nurse groupies stuck to the sliding door.
Wonder Boy
Wonder boy,
And the world is joy, every single day.
It’s the real McCoy,
Wonder boy.
Everybody is looking for the sun.
People strain their eyes to see,
But I see you and you see me,
And ain’t that wonder?
(The Kinks)
So with all the friends bringing in personal music therapy every day this week (not to mention all the consistent flow of prayer and love coming in from all of you) it shouldn’t be a wonder that Vernon is making new steps forward. After two disappointing days of hardly any communication-squeezes, I think he finally tracked my face today.
I had been worried that he wasn’t able to see anything, as he squeezed my hand “Yes,” last week when I asked if it was dark. I kept getting that answer from him, and his open eyes often seemed stormy and unfocused. I would often ask if he could see me or follow my voice, and though his body would try to track with my movement, his eyes stared straight ahead. I asked his neurosurgeon about it the other day. He told me that there is nothing in Vernon’s brain scans that imply he can’t “see.”
Apparently in Dr. Nwagu’s definition, Vernon has no problem with seeing, which is perceiving light and dark. But he hasn’t been able to TRACK yet…to connect his brain and eyes to an object and recognize it.
But today he tracked my face! I know he did. I asked him if he could see me and he squeezed my hand.
And ain’t that wonder?
Day 41
Some days, I don’t have many words… (shocking, I know.)
I hope this picture tells the 1000 I can’t say .
For a start: His eyes are open. He is handsome. He seems peaceful but tired. He is learning to breathe again. He has come a very long way. And he has a very long way to go.
God bless this man.
Small Things With Great Love
I admit I am a little discouraged today as the progress is still so slow, the storming continues, and there are rumors that it will soon be time to move Vernon to a long term care facility that can accept patients still on ventilators. (His progress on oxygen alone has taken another step back and he is fully on the vent again.) I understand that it is its for his own good that he would move elsewhere, where his intensive care can continue and where they can also provide more physical therapy. But there are no sub-acute care facilities near our home, and driving an extra two hours a day for an indefinite period of time does not appeal to me. I have gotten comfortable where we are. Maybe this is a bit of Stockholm Syndrome in that I’ve fallen in love with my captors and don’t want to leave. Big sigh.
Every change comes like this to me, though…I have to accept it, but I still like to fight a little first! I realize how selfish this probably sounds to the reader. Ultimately it is not about me…its about Vernon. He is the one who has been fighting for his life, not me. And he will be put where he must go in order to heal back into the man we love. Every step of the path has been like this so far. At every new turn, we find we can handle more than we thought we could. And always there is some new beautiful relationship, discovery, miracle to be found. I expect this will be true for Vernon, as he continues to awaken into his hugely-changed circumstances.
The writer Ann Voskamp says, “Thanksgiving proceeds the miracle.” Wise woman. So instead of fretting about this anymore, I will focus on some of the gifts I’m grateful for today..
So many friends have surprised us with wonderful gestures. Our rent has been paid for two months straight by people I don’t even know. And I know many generous donations have been made even on this site. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone. I don’t know where we would be without you.
But even in Vernon’s hospital room, small gifts keep appearing.
This morning I found a couple of posters stuck on the wall…the first made with one of Vernon’s more popular fonts, Pacifico.
Thanks, Eric. It is a GOOD DAY.
I also discovered the most wonderful quilted square (was that yours, Lindsay?) taped among Justine’s latest offerings. (Justine wrote her name for the first time the other day, by the way! I’m sneaking some parent-boasting in here too. Well, not so sneakily.)
The most amazing mosaic by Kristy Lizzotte. She takes orders, by the way. AMAZING. And Vernon will be so touched when he discovers this was a gift, as he had wanted one of these before the accident.
Pure heart written in gold on a soccer ball from his Saturday League.
Two letters from Jenni Ahonen’s super-original “Alphabet For Healing” made for Vernon and sent all the way from Finland. Jenni was an classmate of Vernon’s in their Masters Program of Typography.
And last but not least, a personal concert today from the wonderful Gary Rea. I noticed the nurses didn’t close the sliding doors completely…I think they got a lot of out this gift too. Afterwards, his nurse said she hadn’t seen Vernon as relaxed all day as he was after the music.
‘Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.’ Mother Theresa
Pinwheels and Storms
On Thursday I stood on the top of Mt. Whitney at 14,508ft. I was higher than every land-bound person in the lower 48 at that moment. On the long journey up (and down) my heart was filled with anxiety, joy, sadness, fear and a million other emotions. My mind raced as I tried to calm my senses and bring my feelings and reactions under control lest I miss a step and tumble thousands of feet off a switchback. I thought of Vern. I spoke to God. I expressed my fear and frustration to Him. I looked to other familiar faces on the trails for encouragement and I encouraged other hikers who looked like they needed a helping hand.
I returned late Friday night and was able to make it in to see Vernon on Saturday.
Vernon had his eyes open as he stared at the ceiling. He was sweating. Breathing quickly. His heart rate was elevated. Vernon looked like I felt while standing on a 2 ft wide ledge thousands of feet above the ground…with a storm approaching. Except Vernon was in the storm. An intense storm.
A portion of TBI patients experience “sympathetic storming”. You can google the term and read a lot about the cause and effects. Essentially the brain goes into a state (referred to as “storming”) that causes the body to react to the trauma by increasing heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, etc. The treatments for storming vary based on the specific symptoms, but much like hikers seeking a summit they must wait for the storm to pass.
Vernon is working through the process, trying to find a way out of the storm.
Allison and I spoke about it and equated the process to the spinning pinwheel you get on a mac when the resources are tied up and the system needs relief from the tasks at hand.
Vernon needs prayer for the storming to subside, the brain to heal, his reflexes and reactions to return. He needs God’s healing and peace.
Pray for God’s mercy and healing.
