My Story: The Tragedy (Part 5)

At St. Vincent I found that a good friend was a physical therapist on the team there.  I first met Tasha at UAM.  I hadn’t seen her since graduating college years before.  Tasha is married to a very good friend of mine from college, his name is Nathan.  Nathan and I did a lot of outdoor activities together plus ministry and life together especially at the Missionary Baptist Student Fellowship (MBSF).  I had only seen him a few times since college.   This became an answered prayer that I would not know I needed to ask for but God took care of that need because he knew I would need friends close during this time.  I would see Nathan in the hallway when he would stop by the rehab to visit Tasha.  He would take the time to stop by my room when I needed a visitor.  I had not visited with Nathan like I did at the time in years but it was just like “old times” as we would visit.  Tasha would come by to check on me when she had a moment in her schedule and would communicate with Christy.  There were several times that she helped me with my therapy sessions and would record videos of my progress to send to Christy. 

At the beginning of September is Christy and I’s wedding anniversary.  A nurse came into my room on a Sunday afternoon to help me get dressed in something a little nicer than the rehab workout clothes that I wore most days – I had no idea what was coming.  A hospital administrator came in and got me and wheeled me out of the room.  I still had no idea what was coming.  I was rolled out to the courtyard, through an area of the hospital that I had never been, as I turned a corner there were Christy and the kids.  My kids were holding some poster signs they had made for the occasion.   We were told that we could not hug but we visited for a couple hours.  My daughter sat nearby while my son visited then would do his usual and hunted bugs in the flowerbeds of the courtyard. The hospital administrator had to sit at a nearby table during the visit then rolled me back to my room.  During the visit it was “visiting hours” at the rehab so Christy came upstairs to my room for a visit while the kids stayed with Christy’s mom.  This was the first time I had been allowed to see my kids since the end of June.  I still tear up even thinking about it.  That was a special day!

A few weeks later was planned to be my release date from the inpatient rehab time (4 weeks since rehab began).  A few days before this was coming my case manager came in and said I might get approved by insurance for one more week of rehab.  When I Face Timed with Christy that night I was very emotional and my answer to this additional week was a NO.  There was no way I could stay away from home for another week.  All I wanted to do was come back home.  I remember my wife and kids also being emotional at this prospect of another week.  I did not realize it at the time but our friends had planned a welcome home parade by the house also.   After a night to relax and calm down a bit I told Christy that if cleared to stay another week I would accept it and know there was a reason.  I ended up being cleared for another week so I ended up being there at the rehab for five weeks.  My case manager told me very emphatically that this would be it as far as time at the inpatient rehab goes.

When I finally got to come home my friends did reschedule the welcome home parade.  It was so good to see everyone again.  Christy had a sign put in our front yard to welcome me back plus our church lined the driveway with welcome home signs many of which were made by the kids in our kid’s ministries at church, boy was this special to see.  A group of volunteers from church and friends from town had built a wheelchair ramp at our front door so I could get in the house a little easier.  These plus many reasons are why I suggest getting involved with a local church.  Are we messed up? Yes, we as humans are a very difficult bunch.  You never know what role these people will play in your life.  I was 35 years old when all this happened.  Not only did so many pray for me but also did so much physically to help with many needs.  When I arrived at home my wife’s dad had gone and picked the kids up from school so they could be at home to greet me when I got there.  It sure was a special reunion with them.  Home at last!  My father-in-law also helped get the house ready and helped Christy get the supplies from the hospital put together and in the house.

On the door to my hospital room was a large paper sign that said I could not be left unattended in my chair.  Because of this I was constantly being moved from my bed and the wheelchair.  If I wanted to spend time outside of the room I could sit in my wheelchair down at the nurses’ station so I could be watched.  I think I only sat at the nurses’ station once or twice, it just was not worth it to me.  My last week one of the nurses tore down that sign and tossed it in the trash.  Finally, a new level of freedom!  I would get some help to get in my wheelchair then roll around the hallways on my own when not in therapy.  This became a new exercise of just rolling the wheelchair around the hospital.  There is only so much TV I could watch.  

One of the issues I had was the ability to swallow. There was a note on the whiteboard in my room that I was “NPO”.  I do not remember what that meant but it was due to my ability to swallow.  Speech Therapy spent nearly all my time doing swallow treatments because the swallow test was only scheduled periodically.  The day finally came for my swallow test.  My speech therapist came down to get me (other therapies were canceled for that day) and take me down to the hospital where I would do the test which was done in radiology.  The rehab was connected to the North St. Vincent Hospital which is where all this began.  I was rolled down to x-ray for the swallow test where I would do the swallow test with my therapist and a radiologist.  I had to eat and drink multiple things in front of an x-ray machine.  The radiologist said, “Looks good to me”.  I remember me and my therapist celebrating and crying together after the test.  After I got back to the rehab side of the hospital my therapist got me some soda from their office, this was the first thing I had had since June.  The therapist erased the “NPO” sign from my whiteboard and I was admitted to the meal group where I would eat breakfast and lunch with a group of patients while being watched by speech therapists and nurses from the rehab.  My therapist friend Tasha brought me some Welch’s Grape Juice to celebrate.  I would drink the juice in the evenings while I relaxed in my room before going to sleep.  It sure was good to be allowed to eat again. After I was cleared to eat and drink again my family and friends would bring me treats (here’s thanking you all for the DQ Blizzards – my dad started that one I believe). When Christy would come up on the weekend she would always stop at a restaurant and buy a to-go meal and we’d enjoy supper together. She bought me a bag of snacks I’d also eat in the evenings with the grape juice (Oh, how great it was to get to eat). I was finally allowed supper and a drink, I would request a glass of ice water in the evening so it was nice to be able to have something as I sat and relaxed. After the breakfast and lunch meal groups I also was given supper in my room in the evenings. This usually came during visiting hours so usually my visitor would help me get my meal ready to eat then we’d visit while I ate (how rude).  If I had known what was coming I would have eaten a bigger meal on the way to Little Rock back in June!

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