“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”
—Rabindranath Tagore
I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out to me with encouragement after last night’s post. I am still feeling the feelings, but I haven’t lost hope. Or faith. I do have another plan for another facility that have been forming behind the scenes for awhile and someone who has been helping me navigate the path. So I am not as disappointed with Rancho’s rejection of Vernon’s case as it may have seemed. There are also other Rehab Hospital programs that we can look into. I almost want to enquire just to get a variety of opinions on Vernon’s current stage of recovery. But I feel positive about the place I hope he will be going next. This won’t be the TBI Gold Standard of Rancho Los Amigos, or even a Rehab Hospital for that matter, but as far as a skilled nursing facility, I think it will be a place he can receive more progressive therapy. I won’t share more details till it happens as so many of my best-laid plans oft go awry.
I keep pushing walls hoping for hidden doors. So far its the only one that has opened, and its still only a crack. But that’s how the light gets through.
The above image arrived today as a print by my talented friend Elif whom I met on Instagram years ago and then in person, when she showed Justine and I around her exotic Istanbul for a day. She is one of the best street photographers I know of. You can see more of her marvelous work here.
This print will be available for sale either here or in a future auction.
“When I am painting I have a general notion as to what I am about. I can control the flow of paint: there is no accident.” Jackson Pollock
Well, I am not without accidents in my painting ever…even in my current project of painting the rooms of the house. I may not be able to control much else in my life right now, but CAN choose what color to paint my walls. And I CAN set my alarm early very morning in order to get the job one. In that way, I find a kind of empowerment. So far, we’ve got the living room, the hallway, and Maki’s room done. As I’m not an early riser by nature, I am grateful for coffee and the fact that they don’t actually end up looking like one of Pollock’s paintings.
Control, its just an illusion anyway. Anyone with kids can tell you that! But we also all tend to chase it. My friend Sandy pointed this out to me, when she saw me covered with drips of paint at a morning exercise class: I’m throwing myself into this house painting project because there is little else I get to choose at the moment. I guess I also get to choose whether to go to my pilates class. And get up early. She is right, most other things in my life are out of my hands. I’m getting used to it. In fact, there is a great freedom in realizing I have little control over anything; but some days are harder than others.
It has been a pretty rough week. I won’t go into detail, but for the record, I’ve been feeling angry about a lot of things. I realize this is part of the typical grieving process, so I’m letting it happen. Still, I’m surprised at how strong it can feel out of the blue and the mental targets I’ve been finding. Thankfully, I haven’t been getting mad at Vernon or the kids, so my mind is finding places on the outskirts of my life to focus this energy on. Things and people I have even less control over. Maybe its time to start kickboxing again and give all this energy a healthy place to go. Yelling into the ocean gives some relief. So does writing.
It’s also been a rough week for Vernon. As I mentioned on Sunday, he didn’t look as well as he had been, and yesterday, he seemed much worse. He speech was slurred and disconnected as if he was still dreaming. His right arm was protracted and tight, as it used to be back in the early days of waking, and when I tried to hold his hand, he squeezed it hard in frustration and tried to shake me off. I asked the nurses to run some tests to see if there might be another infection. It was more than a hunch, as we’ve seen this before…but its been awhile, and this was a really bad reaction. I was so sad about his arm, most of all…the way it was tightly tucked into his body brought me right back to that Mission Hospital room with a painful shock. I had to leave his side for the day because I didn’t want to cry there.
Today I discovered that indeed he does have a Urinary Tract Infection, so they will be treating this with antibiotic for the next seven days. It’s a bit of a timing blow as I had hoped to get him transferred (yes, still working on that) as early as this week. In the meantime, I got a call today from Rancho Los Amigos (remember them?) Acute Rehab Hospital. This is the place we had all hoped he would be able to go for a short time of intense rehab, because they have such a great reputation for their work with Brain Injuries. I had hoped that with a change in Vernon’s insurance, they would be willing to accept him. I spoke with the admissions lady on the phone for some time, she asked me lots of questions and then told me she’d see what she could do. Eventually she called back and regretfully informed me that Vernon was just too complicated a case. It had been too long since the accident and with his inability to handle that much physical therapy this far down the line, he would never be a match for their program. It was a blow, but at least we were given a clear answer.
So…here we are. I want change, but I don’t get it on my terms. So I’ll keep painting the house and writing my blog. I CAN do that.
The kids and I went up to see Vernon on this rare rainy day. He wasn’t at his best, which always concerns me when the kids are around. I worry that they will not understand this “two steps forward-one step back” momentum of recovery, but I should’t have been surprised that they handled it in stride. They amaze me.
Justine is so young and open that I haven’t been too concerned about the way she handles this strange season or her dad’s disability. I mentioned something the other day about him not being much of a daddy right now, and she quickly jumped to his defense. “He’s a GREAT daddy—he is just sick in the hospital.” Her truth helped me see a greater truth that I had let myself begin to forget.
Maki, on the other hand, has deeper-running waters. I know he takes everything in, but he processes it quietly, so that I don’t always know what he is thinking. He has been so strong through this season, and he has matured so much, but I know it has been hard on him. Vernon was his BEST PERSON, from the time he was small. They always had a very unique, close bond..they were each other’s favorite person to be near, at every age. Sometimes, Maki and I will talk about how unexpected good things will come out of changes that, at the time, are frightening and horrible, because we have seen many good things come into our lives this season. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he misses his dad and the way things used to be.
As I said, today Vernon wasn’t at his best. He seemed tired and unfocused, not making as much sense as he had been. I can usually tell something is up if he isn’t opening his eyes while he talks. It seems like a real struggle to take in everything going on around him. But the children still treated him like they always do. If anything Maki was trying to engage him more than usual. It was so nice to see the comfort they have found in their current relationship with their dad.
Maki tried to engage Vernon with some easy game-app on his iPad. But Vernon still struggles to see moving screens well and lost interest.
But Justine made up for it with her own interest. I’m so thankful these two have each other right now. Maki has always been great with Justine and she obviously adores him. Our newest family member, Crystal, makes an appearance here too. The stuffed kitty hasn’t left her side since she got her two weeks ago.
It was actually a really lovely afternoon, the rain falling outside the window of Vernon’s room and the family all gathered around, each doing our own thing. Not asking Vernon to engage in conversation, not filling him with more of our own information, just being together in the same space. Here is a window on what that looked like:
If you are on computer, watch in Standard Definition by clicking option at top of video screen.
Also, if you couldn’t see what was on Maki’s screen, it was a Space Sloth. He is obsessed, just so you know.)
“When you touch a body, you touch the whole person, the intellect, the spirit, and the emotions.” Jane Harrington
I joined Sandy on her Vernon-visit today, and got to witness her gift of touch as she massaged essential oils into Vernon’s skin. She’s been doing this every Friday, and he obviously loves it.
We wandered around the care home a bit, and stumbled on a Mass taking place. It was a beautiful thing to see, especially when all the patients and staff and priest touched one another to say, “Peace be with you.”
There was one woman in particular who kept reaching out, though she had her eyes closed. Sandy took the opportunity to give her some extra love through her touch, and I could see the woman calming down immediately.
“Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.” Carl Jung
Further reading: an interesting (and lengthy) article about the science of human touch here.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/carljung108090.html#IY0tpZE2Z1UzAucR.99
How do I know? Well, they were discussing it in the activity room/dining hall today. The Activity Director had everyone in a circle and read facts about Elvis’s life. His father’s name was Vernon and had actually been in prison at one point as well as falling on hard times in general, and as I heard the name mentioned, I asked Vernon if they were talking about him. “It’s NOT me…it’s NOT me! It’s a different Vernon,” he said to me and quickly to those around him, just in case they thought he was a bit rougher than he appeared.
The Activity Director had everyone play a little game of filling in the blank of a bunch of Elvis songs: Blue Suede _____, _________ Hotel, Are you _________ Tonight, etc.There were two men in particular in the circle, whom I’d had yet to hear speak who knew all the answers, and were quick to give them. I suppose the age would be right, that these guys would have listened to a lot Elvis Presley in their day. Of course they would remember those things, even when other details in their minds had vanished.
I had a small speaker with me, so I plugged it into my phone so they could hear some Elvis songs online while they got ready to be served lunch. Vernon was sitting with different ladies this time…one who had trouble speaking, and one who just kept laughing when I asked her questions but had no words. When “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” came on, they both started mouthing the words. It wanted to sing the song directly to one of them, but knew I would fall apart if I held her eye for long, so I giggled through as we ‘sang’ together. Vernon surprised me most of all by singing the words out loud. I used to tell him he would probably be a good singer if he ever actually opened his mouth to sing. But he was always too shy. Well, I guess his time has come. Thank you, Elvis!
Here’s Vernon rocking his own Blue Suede Shoes. For weeks he had been asking for me to bring him shoes and I kept shrugging it off as I thought it would give him the idea that he was going home soon. He couldn’t walk in them anyway. But I finally brought a pair in before Christmas, and he’s worn them every single time he is out of bed. I guess they make him feel more complete…the truth is, they make him look more complete too. I am now taking his requests more seriously.
I also told Vernon about the tragic shooting in Paris yesterday. I know the old Vernon would have cared a lot about that story. I was a little nervous if I should be bringing negativity into his space, but I miss talking to him about World Events. I told it to him pretty simply, and Vernon looked so upset, but he was tracking and wanted to know more. He was terribly sad, and I had to decide if I should tell him more. Whether it was right or wrong, I dove in with some of the big bad news of the summer till now, things he had missed: A plane shot down in the Ukraine, the Gaza-Israel Conflict, The Horror of Isis…that only got us up to August. He kept asking why the Police weren’t doing their jobs. Hmmm, I think most of these things are a little outside of Police power. I could see he was glazing over a bit…which is exactly the correct reaction to too much bad news. I feel the same way in my heart most of the time, even if I try to keep my mind engaged.
Though I only gave him a little update, he couldn’t fathom that so much had happened in the months he’d been “absent.” His response was great: “Wow, time passes so much more quickly here than it does in England.”
After that Vernon just wanted to chill out and watch some interview show on TV (but NOT the news.) I set up my computer to do some work, and we listened to music together for awhile….just like we used to do.
Good news of great joy. A very special baby arrived on this day (1 am.)
Welcome to our world, Miss Maisy Imogen Adams! Isn’t she lovely?
I feel she deserves a special mention on this blog because she belongs to Chris and Erin Adams, who have been such a close part of Vernon’s recovery journey from Day One. You will all remember Chris Adams, Vernon’s friend and small-business partner. (Check out the Stamp Foundry here.) We must have found out that Erin was pregnant shortly before the accident, and now she has got a BABY. Not a day too soon…in fact she was two weeks late, rising up to a healthy 9 lb 14oz! What a wonderful symbol of life going on, full of potential and goodness.
Chris sent the above photo. I have yet to meet Maisy, but I love her already! And Erin, you are a superstar for carrying that baby so long…then giving birth at home! Congratulations, Erin, Chris, and little Zephyr. We are so glad you are all in our lives.
‘A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.’ Carl Sandburg
On another note, I want to write down this story from today before I forget it.
I brought my lunch with me today so I could eat with Vernon, and in doing so I got to share a table with some other patients. I could be wrong, but it seems that people are more or less arranged at tables according to their ability to feed themselves, and it was the first time I saw Vernon doing better than his lunch-mates. He fed himself a few bites on his own before saying he was “about to burst.” I was still impressed. There was another very slim lady at my side who wouldn’t touch her food at all. I was afraid she couldn’t even talk, as many stroke victims there cannot. But after showing off the fresh picture of Baby Maisy on my phone, I asked her if she had children, and she said she has two, now in their twenties. I had to listen close to hear her, she was so week, but I felt it was good to include her. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how lonely and/or boring it must get for people too long in a convalescent home.
There was larger table with more dining patients nearby, and I overheard one of the aides asking an elderly lady if she could actually speak five languages. Nosy me, I turned around and asked her which languages she knew. With some help, she smilingly expressed: English, French, Italian, Arabic, Spanish. I think there was a dialect I had never heard of on that list too…so maybe she spoke more than five. Impressive indeed. She is from Morocco.
There is another lady across the hall from Vernon who is from Lebanon, but grew up in Paris, with a Yugoslavian mother. I hear her speaking Arabic with the Egyptian nurse, Joseph, from time to time. It must be so good to be stimulated by native language in these quiet days. It must feel more like home when speaks the language of your childhood in a place where one can feel so lost.
Back to the lunchroom: I started asking my frail table-mate if she spoke any other languages, and she said three: English, French, German. She said she had only learned them in school, so didn’t speak them well, but Vernon perked up at that. “I speak German too…just enough to get by,” he said.
I almost reprimanded him for making things up again, when I remembered he had indeed lived in Dusseldorf when he was a young painter. I guess he was telling the truth. “How many languages can you speak, Vernon?”
“English, French, German, Norwegian, and Latin,” he listed, very matter-of-factly, before adding: “Well, I don’t actually speak Latin, but I can read it.”
It was not lost on me that I was in the company of some great brains, linguistically-speaking. Here was capable, youngish me, knowing only one useful language (and some remnants of Spanish that I’m too embarrassed to actually use) and yet every day, I am active in the world. And here were all these intelligent minds trapped indoors, unable to be a part of the bigger world, just sitting in their chairs and lying in their beds, waiting for mealtime and hopefully, visitors. It was truly humbling.
It turned out that the quiet lady at our table was born in London and had moved here when she was five, but had just the slightest trace of an accent left. It was nice to see Vernon share a moment with her, reminiscing a little about the rain and the streets of London. People (yes, even those in Nursing Homes) are so much more interesting than their appearances, you just have to get them to open up a little… in any language you can.
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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