clouds across the sky
dancing upon mountain tops
my grandmother’s voice
Chaos Tamer
We’ve been home four days now. B makes progress every day. He has been out of the house several times this weekend, but still tired easily. Mom & Dad are trying to help him keep things in perspective. This will be a long road and we don’t want him to push too hard, too fast. He’s bored, but that’s what his brain needs to heal.
Tomorrow we meet with his pediatrician. Hopefully we can get some questions answered to help B understand what the process is.
Our discharge paperwork says can can begin returning to school this week. He really wants to go back. Research shows that teens heal better from concussions with social interactions. We will start slowly – 1 or 2 classes – with minimal academic requirements. We will increase time/cognitive demands as B can handle it.
I guess I can retired the “Memorial Day From Hell” subject line, as we’re both past “Memorial Day” and “Hell”. For which I’m rather thankful.
An ICU Haiku:
At the very top
A view south of Seattle
The ICU’s noise
My family came home yesterday evening after a few days in Seattle’s Harborview hospital. This is the highest level trauma center for a good portion of the western US. My son’s skateboarding accident Monday afternoon resulted in a skull fracture, bleeding on his brain and a concussion. Hence our stay at a level 1 trauma center.
We’re home now, really just starting the long road of healing before us. It’s amazing to many of us how quickly we got here. A huge help: his helmet. The trauma was significantly mitigated by it. Several doctors and nurses told us it saved his life. Talk about sobering.
As we continue down this I will keep in mind how close we came to life altering calamity. When I feel frustrated about the caregiving, his surliness (a warning from the nurses)…all the elements of a head injury with months/years-long recovery, I will focus on how close we came to losing everything. I’m lucky: I brought my son home.
How do I describe the feeling of bolting upright a little after 5am this morning with the first significant awareness of how serious this was. How badly this could’ve been. That we went right up to a line that, once crossed, you don’t come back from. It’s terrifying, sobering and humbling.
Braeden and Sheri are asleep. We’re moving forward. Very likely we’ll head home today. But this road is long. I feel deep gratitude that I won’t be alone.
Now I’m going to wipe away some tears, watch the sun rise, and embrace this sense of gratitude. And think about some breakfast.
Braeden has been asleep most of the day, which has been helpful. When he’s awake he’s very aware of what’s going one and (roughly) where he is. His short term memory is a little fuzzy, so we’re repeating some things multiple times. He’s mostly his normal, pleasant self, and is ready to go home – most likely tomorrow.
We’ve been “discharged” from the pediatric ICU, though we haven’t had to change beds. We’re looking forward to being back home. Braeden is eager to get back to his normal life, though that will happen slower than he likes. Progress is being made. The staff at Swedish Edmonds and Harborview have been amazing.
Most importantly, we’ve felt upheld and deeply cared for by you, our community. We can’t thank you enough. All the prayers and well wishes are deeply felt. This ocean of love is amazing , and truly humbling. Our gratitude is immense. Thank you!
Dear friends, sorry for impersonal update, but I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible. My son, Braeden, wiped out on his longboard yesterday and hit his head. He has a temporal skull fracture and had some bleeding in the lining. Stable at 4-hour repeat scan. We are currently in the PICU at Harborview. Hopefully moving to the floor some time today. Thankful he was wearing his helmet