1/30/2018

I was at school when I got a call from mom. She was crying. Naturally, I thought the worst. “Hannah,” she said through the phone. “Daddy is awake, his eyes are open!” For the first time in 23 days, dad opened his eyes fully. He can’t talk at all. The tracheostomy prevents him from doing so. And he looks so pitiful…almost like he had a stroke. His face is lopsided, and he keeps moving his mouth as if to say something, but no words come. We can’t always figure out what it is he is trying to say. “Everything is going to be ok,” we reassure him. No…he shakes his head and mouths the words ‘not right now.’ We managed to deduce that he ‘wants to go home right now,’ and the one he keeps saying over and over, ‘I love all ya’ll.’ “We know you love us, just by the way you look at us.” Mom says. Dad once told mom this when they first got married, and it has been their special little thing ever since.

The nurses say that it will take a couple of months to wean him off the ventilator and out of ICU, but then he can get a regular bed in the hospital while he recovers. It seems like such a long time, but like mom said, its ok however long it takes, as long as he gets better. He is so weak. He can’t move his arms or legs. It takes all that he has got just to mouth words, and barely move his head yes or no. You can tell that he is frustrated at the lack of ability he has, but he pushes on in spite of it. “Are you tired?” Mom asks him, “Do you want to take a nap?” He shakes his head no and exerts himself in his efforts to communicate.

Mom sits by his side, reassuring him that she is not leaving, and he will be ok. We played for him voicemails from his mom, and his sister and brother. He smiled a little sideways smile. “Everybody loves you,” we tell him.

Mom, who has been unbelievably strong through this whole situation had a very rough day. It was so hard for her to see him in pain and trying to communicate. We are not able to see what it is he is trying to say, and he keeps trying to tell us. Mom cried and cried today.

I dropped my classes for this semester. I wasn’t going to be able to focus on anything. Anything at all. The hour and a half I was at school this morning, I was so miserable. I wanted to be near my family, close to the boys, close to dad. I was worried I might miss something.

Religiously, mom whips out her phone full of Daddy pictures; making him a little more human. One of the nurses came in to see dad. “Well howdy there!” he said. Dad acknowledged him with a halfway nod. “We are gonna get you feeling better, so you can go fishin’ again, ok?’ Dad smiled. Mom does this on purpose, showing nurses and doctors alike what he looks like when he is healthy. We believe it humanizes him and makes him more than ‘just another patient.’ This particular nurse, she had shown this picture of dad. All smiles with a ‘I can’t believe it’s so big’ catch of the day. 

Today we feel small and helpless. We see him awake, and in pain. Unable to communicate, and there is nothing we can do. But sit with him and tell him we love him. And love him we do. So much it hurts.

When mom was getting ready to leave, she said, “I have to go now, and take care of the kids.” He shook his head. He wanted her to stay. She laughed a little sad laugh, “You want me to stay?’ He nodded. And then shook his head as if to say, “Yes, I want you to stay, but I know you have to go and I understand.” He worded ‘go home’ as best he could. And she leaned in and gave him a kiss.

Please keep praying. Yes, this is something wonderful. But he has such a long, long recovery. Don’t forget about him. We need those prayers and thoughts.

Love, Hannah