OUR YEAR IN A NUTSHELL:
Here's the big, brief synopsis for those who don't want to read the details - God is good and has been good to us, though many times we have had to look through a murky lake or foggy mirror to see his reflection in our lives. We do see the miraculous details that we attribute to God for saving John's life last May. We also see tons of miracles that He deserves praise for throughout the year that is now behind us.
But, it wasn't like someone waved a magic wand and like night and day everything was magically Cinderella-like changed. No, our miracles have come in the midst of a raging storm that has rocked our boat, as we walk through the parted waters of the Red Sea, and like the sand-shifting parable of the man who built his house upon the rock v. the one built on the sand. I believe that there is no doubt God has done miracle upon miracle for John and our family starting days before May 17 even happened. And, I do trust we will continue to see these miracles. A few of them still need to come into fruition to be complete. Sometimes we even feel like we are being tested or challenged like Job in the Bible, but then we snap into reality realizing our little faith doesn't come anywhere close to compare to this man of great faith and endurance who suffered and triumphed.
We do hope to one day share our complete triumph with you, however. The best way to describe our year is that we feel as though we are in the middle of the Red Sea on dry ground walking to the shore with walls of water held back on both sides. Just when we get ready to step off onto the shore, we hear the chariots raging behind us and it seems as though the walls of water are starting to come crashing in. Maybe this describes everyone's life. I don't know. But, here is an update on how the year has gone for us and an honest, open account of where we are. Where we are headed is yet to be seen. But, we trust God has a hope and a future that has already been written that ultimately brings joy!
Here's the bottom line on John's progress over the year:
If you look at John, you would not know anything devastating ever happened to him. If you watch him perform, you would have to be fairly astute to notice any missed lyrics. He was very fortunate and blessed in this regard. It's not until you listen to him communicate would you even know. He speaks fluently and not slurred. His speech is good. Where he struggles is identifying words. I don't know how else to describe it. It's called expressive aphasia, with a hint of receptive aphasia. He uses circumlocution to communicate, which is actually brilliant and exahusting all at the same time as if he is dancing around a word but can't quite reach it. For instance, instead of saying, "pass the rolls", he might say, "would you be so kind as to give me some more of those delicious brown, round things?" The ability to connect a picture or a symbol, like letters and words, to a meaning is what was damaged most. Which is why he is re-learning how to read as well. Words are only symbols that we have given meaning to, just like a picture of a feather is interpreted as a feather, and someone's name is associated with their face. This is the area of his brain that was hit. It's not that he lost these words or the ability to remember. Quite the contrary, all of his intellect and almost all of his memories are completely in tact. It's more like someone broke the wire that connected to this part of his thinking which associates symbols with a direct word. The question is whether or not everything will get rewired. So far, a lot has. Though, his coping skills are impeccable.
NOW IS THE TIME TO SETTLE IN FOR A LONGER READ WITH MORE DETAIL AND INSIGHTS INTO OUR YEAR:
And, this is the point where you grab a cup of coffee or whatever you're drinking so you can sit and read my novel to follow. Don't worry, I'll wait for you to settle in...
Our year in a more detailed recap:
One year ago today, an ICU waiting room was packed full of a steady flow of people for an entire weekend. They brought us food, accommodated for my newly gluten-free child, and prayed with us. They filled the ICU with love.
As I write this update, I am fighting falling into an all too familiar pit of sadness and depression. Oh, how I want to be that person who is always on top of the world filled with hope and encouraging and loving others to reach their utmost fullest potential. I want to be the one who knows exactly what to do to help support someone else, like bringing food to an ICU or holding your hand to pray. I'm just not that person. As I watched my children and my family ride on the edge of a cliff on treacherous hills for a year now, I've found it difficult to press on. Though, we have. After all, hope deferred makes the heart sick. And, where else would I go, I believe that only Jesus, my Lord and Savior, has the words of life to carry us through. Over the course of this year, I have been open with all of you. I have shared our joys and our discouragement, our needs and our hope. I didn't do this only because I needed prayer or encouragement. I did it also to share God's goodness, so you too could be encouraged and filled with joy.
It’s been one full year since I heard those words
“He may not survive this, and if he does he will not be the man or the musician you knew.”
These words were not said in an arrogant or uncaring manner. I know the doctor had to present to me the whole and reality of the situation. I never thought bad of the doctor in any way for saying this to me. On the contrary, it was a launching pad for seeing exactly how big our God really is. Looking back on these words, I smile and jump for joy that God had a better plan. Though, other words do haunt me, like those that gave timelines to when he would recover whatever it is he's going to recover. One doctor or therapist said six months was a good gauge of what he would regain. Another said, they would look at him at the one-year mark, and that's pretty much where he will stay.
I would be lying if I told you that I never wonder if the doctor was right. As I watch my husband struggle to relearn how to read, just so he can read his Bible, and as our conversations have become a game of charades with us guessing the word he is trying to remember as he very masterfully describes in great detail, painting a nice picture of the word he is trying to reconnect with. This is called expressive aphasia, and I would absolutely love it if he could experience fullness of healing from this. But, I will never complain that this and a slight loss of peripheral vision to the right is truly the only impairment he struggles with today. Some days I feel as though I will never fully have my husband back. At the same time, I realize that who he is, his personality, his memories are fully intact. His physical body has no noticeable signs of damage. And, he is such a master musician. Actually, I never even realized how skilled at playing and entertaining he was until toting him around to gig after gig as I often watch in awe.
THANK YOU!
First, let me say thank you for your prayers. And, I don't know why God has been so good to us, but I will always give him the glory for John's health. I don't know why he is choosing to give John extra days on this earth in health while others go on to eternity or a devastating semi-living, non-functional human state. But, for some reason, God not only heard your prayers and said yes! By looking back over the course of events, I will always see God's hand in all of it, even to the point of where the bleed occurred, leaving him struggling for identifying words and detail, but still able to perform music, walk, talk, and be John. I mean, down to the fact that his curly locks were left intact even after surgery.
From May to November - Trauma, rehab, therapy, recovery and back to work till 6 Months hit:
In that year, we watched John go forward with leaps only to go backward and then forward again. In November, he visited the ER with vertigo though by middle of that month he was driving and regained a lot of his independence with Tere still filling in the details, scheduling shows for him and playing an endless game of charades - what word is John describing?
Things were really looking almost normal again. We celebrated Christmas with our extended families, he was playing on the worship team at church and back to a full schedule of shows, driving to and setting up and tearing down on his own. Tere was back writing and attempting to pick up where she left off homeschooling Eliana.
Things were really looking almost normal again. We celebrated Christmas with our extended families, he was playing on the worship team at church and back to a full schedule of shows, driving to and setting up and tearing down on his own. Tere was back writing and attempting to pick up where she left off homeschooling Eliana.
On to a new year, 2020:
Then, one day in January, he got up to perform a show and instead of the lyrics to the first song, jibberish came out of his mouth. Tere and Eliana happened to come along with him to this show, even though he had driven himself there and we were really along for more of a celebration and to help tear down and set up for the second show that day which was to be at Madison's Cafe. Instead, we ended up in the ER thinking he may have suffered another stroke or TIA. But, again the scans and tests looked good. The only partial answer we ended up taking home with us was seizure activity on an EEG, something he had not had before.
This time, the news was a devastating blow to his independence and hope for him to be able to continue performing. Adjusting to the new medicine was a challenge as it put him into dips of depression and despair and anger. Tere became his chauffeur once again. But, this time just as I had finally received an actual chauffeur hat and gloves, the world shut down.
Then, one day in January, he got up to perform a show and instead of the lyrics to the first song, jibberish came out of his mouth. Tere and Eliana happened to come along with him to this show, even though he had driven himself there and we were really along for more of a celebration and to help tear down and set up for the second show that day which was to be at Madison's Cafe. Instead, we ended up in the ER thinking he may have suffered another stroke or TIA. But, again the scans and tests looked good. The only partial answer we ended up taking home with us was seizure activity on an EEG, something he had not had before.
This time, the news was a devastating blow to his independence and hope for him to be able to continue performing. Adjusting to the new medicine was a challenge as it put him into dips of depression and despair and anger. Tere became his chauffeur once again. But, this time just as I had finally received an actual chauffeur hat and gloves, the world shut down.
We continued to move forward with him getting better and better with each new show that he would perform. The ball was really rolling with a full schedule of shows to perform and picking up steam.
And then COVID-19 shut down all of the retirement homes followed by a shut down of the restaurants where he plays.
If you thought adjusting to a lock-down quarantine was tough, try doing it when the world already had become a confusing place you were trying to maneuver. Now, the world suddenly made no sense to anyone.
HOW HE SPENDS HIS SHELTER-IN-PLACE, STAY-AT-HOME ORDER DAYS:
WHY COULDN'T THE YEAR ANNIVERSARY COME WITH CELEBRATION?
He was doing very well, and then he started having trouble with a tooth that he and dentists have been trying to save for a couple years now. We gave up, and on the day before his one-year post-stroke, I sat in a dentist office with him having the tooth extracted.... Oh, and did I mention that the office happened to be located in the medical building that we looked at many times from the window of the rehab center where he was almost exactly a year ago?
No worries, right! Just a whole lotta post traumatic stress that seems to delight in popping up just when you feel safe. Remember, it is not safe to exit the ride until the ride has come to a complete stop! Likewise, it doesn't appear to be safe to completely relax and smile again until this ride of life is over.
LAUGH, HA HA HA HA!
LAUGH, HA HA HA HA!
Other than all of this, right now, we often laugh. Sometimes we laugh in disbelief at how uncanny a situation is. Other times we laugh nervously. Then, there are the moments of full-out, gut-level laughter that springs up unexpectedly and fills the air with a sound of healing and hope...
BOTTOM LINE IN DETAIL:
John is slowly beginning to perform again as places begin to open back up at a distance. He has performed one show from a parking lot and has two more scheduled to perform from a courtyard or parking lot at the end of May and first part of June as well as one at a socially distanced winery restaurant patio setting and is hoping by July it will be more back to normal, but only time will tell.
Physically, he is usually doing well.
Now a bit on how the rest of the family has been moving forward:
While John is the one who has suffered physically, the rest of us have rallied around trying to not just cope with all of this but to rise above and even make sense out of it. I have been completely open with you so far, and that's just who I am. I am not afraid to share my feelings and thoughts. I am an open book. Feel free to read us, especially if what we have and are going through will lift you up to give you hope for a future.
Just one thing I ask...
I tend to seek advice on my knees in prayer and am not phishing for or demanding words of wisdom elsewhere. And, we certainly don't need any kind of judgment cast our way right now. We have so much already to think about every living, breathing second. In all complete honesty, I'm not even looking for hugs or heart emoticons. Whatever I share with you is out of honesty through the eyes of someone in the midst of the battle, but I still have my eyes set on that victory. We have been hit hard, no doubt. But, we have hopes to rise above and be joyful again. In the meantime, maybe our life's struggles will help to lighten your burden load that has been placed upon your shoulders. That would give meaning to all of this.
HOW ARE THE KIDS DOING?
As a mom, some of the hardest moments are watching my children struggle. They grew up years' worth of maturing in one weekend last May. All three of them rallied to keep our family focused on hope. It has worn us out and built us up. I have watched my youngest struggle with demons that torment her peace. She's made progress but fights daily to regain any form of joy. I long for the day when fear eases its grip on all of us. Just when I start to relax, another thing to worry about crops up. Just when we were starting to see progress and hope, everything shut down with COVID-19 which stole a lot of peace and joy for my middle child who was set to graduate, give the class speech, and so many other rites of passage finales that she had looked forward to. Thankfully, some creative thinking and planning is going to allow her the graduation in a different form than we've ever known. But, all of her other desires, hopes, and dreams have been put in limbo. As memories of a year ago haunt her as well, it breaks my heart to watch an otherwise joy-filled girl daily deal with grief. And, for my son, he immediately stepped into the role of "man of the house" so to speak, at least in a spiritual sense when we didn't know if John would live, die, or be debilitated for the rest of his life. My youngest was there during the trauma and helped me get John into the car to drive him to get medical attention. My middle child was on stage during all of this, and now deals with flashback memories of trauma when she takes the stage or plans anything, plus there is probably shadows of guilt that she wasn't home to help, and my son has struggled with trying to find his place in every aspect of life.
Who knew that when I studied psychology and counseling and spent 60+ hours on the suicide hotline, Life Crisis Center for a degree in human services years ago that I would need to put everything into practice with my own children. And, me. I feel so ill prepared and still in a bit of shock and disbelief while John continues to struggle trying to reconnect neurons so he can come up with the right identifying word or read again. He is motivated to try, and works hard every day to regain what he lost. He is thankful that he is still living. he is thankful that he is still overall completely functional. He is thankful that he can still play music. But, he is scared, discouraged, and at times outright depressed wondering why he has to work so hard to come up with a thought that used to be an instant connection. Like, finding the word for garage, mowing, or sandwich without surrounding the sentence with adjectives to describe what he is saying.
WHAT ABOUT THE WIFE?
I have known and understood from the start that this whole thing is not about me, but as a wife and mom now holding the house together, I often feel abandoned and misunderstood or forgotten. I know it was God who saved his life that day. But, only a few people have acknowledged my role in all of this. Some have even given advice that comes off as a reprimand. Don't get me wrong. I don't want a parade or praise. I really don't even want a hug. But, often it seems like I'm just existing unnoticed with few who even try to understand my perspective. If it's not about me, then why do I feel the brunt of the exhaustion and a year's worth of many days filled with tears?
While everyone else in the world is talking about a new normal, the last day I remember feeling normal was May 16, 2019!
I woke up that next morning, on the 17th, with an unexplainable anxious feeling that I couldn't shake. Once I realized something was wrong, I jumped into action quickly. Though, I do constantly beat myself up over the fact that it was possible for me to have acted even sooner. I recount the minutes as if evaluating how I could have shaved even milliseconds off of my reaction time. I'm the one who relives May 17, 18, 19, 20, 23, June 6, Nov. 1, and January 18, and now May 11-16 with the toothache and headache. I relive these moments every single day. They haunt me like a scary movie constantly replaying in my mind. Just when I think I can relax and rejoice, he complains of another ache or pain that I question whether or not I need to take action on. I'm the one who sat countless hours acting as a translator between John and his parents or other friends who came to visit. Thankful for the visitors, I'm the one who longed to just drift away for a few hours to gather my thoughts. At the end of the day, I'm the one who felt exhausted and tired of thinking for two people when I could barely formulate my own thoughts or feelings and yet as exhausted as I was, I was too scared to sleep. I'm the one who scheduled our bills to be paid. I'm the one who negotiated financial assistance, not once but twice, with two different hospitals and a rehab center. I'm the one who paid close attention to the news and sat down to jump on filing pandemic relief. I'm the one who held a shaking, panicking child. I'm the one who slept on a fold-out wooden couch bed for two weeks at a rehab center. I'm the one who woke up early to phone calls from doctors, rallied up a pre-teen and two teenagers to prepare to leave the house during early morning hours ready to sit in an ICU or surgical waiting room for endless hours. I am the one who filled out endless forms or answered questions about John's desires to live or die that I could only answer based on knowing him.
Yet, I am the one who was too numb to stand in confidence and faith to even pray for him that day and the days to follow.
THE PRAYER THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING!
I have cried many tears knowing that a prayer was heard, but I knew it wasn't mine. I've known throughout the entire recovery that my husband is here as the result of someone else's prayer. I tried to pray that day, but I knew that the image of watching my mom die with a brain injury just 6 months earlier, my faith was shattered. Right before my eyes I was watching a re-run of her fading away from us, and I wasn't prepared to lose my husband so soon after saying goodbye to my mother. Each time I would start to beg God for John's life, I would almost audibly hear God saying to me, "Don't ask me for anything right now. Just press into me." So, I did. I kept pressing into Him and trusting and relying on the prayers of those around me were being heard.
I am thankful that in the midst of the emergency, God instructed me to reach out first to one person with a cryptic text asking for prayer. I do believe that had she not responded by begging God for John's life, the story would have turned out quite differently. I also know that my daughter, at the close of her recital when she received the news, showed up at the hospital with fervor in her prayers declaring not today, devil, not today. "You may have taken my grandma whom I loved so much, but you can't have my dad too!" From there, a Facebook and churches filled with believers stood by our sides lifting John up in prayer. Some even included the family, and for that I can never say thank you enough!
Many times I felt like the biblical story where others stood beside Moses to hold up his arms. When I was too weak to keep my arms held high, others came alongside me and held them up with a constant flow of burning incense of the saints before the throne of God. It was not my words, but it was my heart cry.
THANK YOU!
In spite of this, in all of this trauma and worry, I am the one who gets to see God's goodness first hand. And, I still know this is not about me. Though, I do hope to come out of it a better servant to help others.
Yet, I have learned some things about my husband I actually never knew before. OK, some of them I knew but haven't seen for a while. We have been married almost 28 years, and I still learned some things. I learned:
- He has a sweet and gentle spirit
- He cares mainly about making people happy
- He is one amazing musician/entertainer
- We all think he really comes from the planet of music as musical terms, reading music, and performing to entertain are all what propels him forward
He was dubbed the nicest patient at St. Joseph SSM and then again at Rehab at the Rehab Institute of St. Louis at Barnes St. Peters. He even thanked the tech for taking his blood. Everyone who encountered caring for him would leave the room with a smile on their faces, some almost shaking their heads in disbelief that someone could go through what he went through and come out so kind and happy, caring about the ones caring for him.
Thanks for reading and listening to this point. Sorry to ramble on, but it is a year's worth of updating.
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SO, WHERE ARE WE HEADED? WHAT DOES OUR FUTURE HOLD?
There are many moments throughout this year that I have questioned everything about my decisions and worth in life. Should I stop homeschooling (I still have one to go) and go back to work full time to ease financial insecurities and insurance issues? I'm willing to do whatever I need to, but as John began to perform again, it seemed as though I was needed there, helping him drive to and fro, set up and tear down gear, book jobs, etc. This is what he wanted to do. He wanted to make people happy by entertaining again. He could not do this on his own just yet. I put everything in my life on hold to lay it down to lift him back up. When COVID shut downs hit the nursing homes first, and then the restaurants where he performs, I opened back up my writing gig and have written far more words than I thought I even knew. To do this, I have had to wake up very early in the morning to find quiet time to write, and it's draining and steals me away from my family. I still don't know what our future looks like, especially now that retirement center/restaurant bar gig musicians have very little opportunity. Maybe God is saying quit performing, or maybe Satan is resisting what God wants. I don't know. All we can do is press on and trust. Though, we are far from lazy. Tired, yes. Discouraged, at times. But, we are not good at begging and sitting back to be waited on. We would rather be the ones serving.
Most of you already have been so kind. We cannot thank you enough. If you would like to continue helping us, we would be so grateful.
-314-302-0074
-@John-Scott-19
-Send to Joyfulsoundsdj@juno.com
Ko-Fi
Zelle (through our bank or the Zelle app)
https://www.zellepay.com/
-314-302-0074
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THIS IS THE 6-MONTH RECAP POST IF YOU MISSED IT OR WANT TO RE-READ HOW THIS ALL STARTED ONE YEAR AGO TODAY!
For further details on that day a year ago, here are the highlights of the six-month post:
- Today is the day UPDATE ON @johnscott @johnscottmusician
You may not know some of the specific details along the way, some of which I read in the medical reports after the fact. You may not know some of the trauma I and my children experienced as well, as John's medical emergency came just 6 mos after losing my mom.
John had a large hemorrhage that covered his language center and occipital lobe. Based on the follow-up MRI results they now think it was most likely caused by something he was born with called a cavernous angioma. The MRI also showed no additional cause for alarm other than several small angiomas in the back of his brain, which will probably never be a problem but if they were, this would be fatal. We just trust God with all of it. But, we really will never know for sure, 100%, what caused it. I still have my own thoughts on this.
In case you never knew the background:
On May 17, in the afternoon, we were preparing to go to my daughter's recital. She had her phone on airplane mode so she could not receive texts, which would prove to be a blessing and a haunting curse for her. John had a music performance scheduled, but he was mysteriously just not on their books when he called to confirm. So, he was home after getting tires put on his van that morning. He came in from loading his van and getting the mail, threw the mail at me and said something wasn't right that his head hurt so bad. He went back to the bedroom to lay down as I sat praying and thinking, this isn't something he should try to sleep off. My 12-year-old, at the time, got him to describe the pain, and when he came out of the bedroom more alarmed and in more pain, I started asking him questions and having him lift his arm, stick out his tongue, etc. There was not really any significant drooping of his right arm, but he couldn't figure out how to stick out his tongue, still knew his name, but couldn't come up with his birthday. He then began to throw up. My daughter grabbed a bucket and helped him to the car as I threw on a different shirt and ran to the bathroom before rushing to the hospital with him.
On the way, all I could eek out was a cryptic text to my sister in law asking her to pray. At the stop light, I managed to do the same on a Facebook plea for prayer.
I'm sorry to say that at this point, I knew he needed prayer but was in no shape myself to do so. I was numb and reliving losing my mom watching my husband exhibit many of the behaviors she had prior to her death.
We arrived at the ER, and his blood pressure was 181/118. They immediately called a Code Stroke and told me they were taking him to CT for a scan. They returned quickly telling me he had experienced a hemorrhagic stroke and that they were intubating him because he was throwing up, not because he was not breathing on his own. The nurses were amazing at explaining every step, but watching the intubation was horrific as several EMS workers stood around him preparing him for ambulance transfer to a different hospital that had a surgical room ready.
We arrived at the other hospital to be greeted by the neurosurgeon, who at this point, was trying to decide if he wanted to do surgery now or wait. To do it now would mean he would potentially bleed out and die. To wait could mean a brain swell, shift and death. That's when the surgeon told me:
"He may not survive this, and if he does, he won't be the man or the musician you knew!"
I didn't like my choices.
Every possible thought raced through my head playing out every scenario and wondering how to go about planning a funeral, and what our life would look like with no dad versus a dad in a vegetative state for who knows how long.
The next 36 hours brought significant swelling and his brain began to shift off midline. Immediate surgery is often recommended for a 5mm millimeter shift. His had moved 1cm centimeter (that's twice the distance for those of you who may not use metric every day) when the surgeon asked my permission to do surgery. Below is the CT scan from the ER. The big white blob on the right (which is really the left side of his brain) is the bleed. I saw but don't have a picture of, the following scans where his brain began to shift. I do, however, still see it in my head.
In case you never knew the background:
On May 17, in the afternoon, we were preparing to go to my daughter's recital. She had her phone on airplane mode so she could not receive texts, which would prove to be a blessing and a haunting curse for her. John had a music performance scheduled, but he was mysteriously just not on their books when he called to confirm. So, he was home after getting tires put on his van that morning. He came in from loading his van and getting the mail, threw the mail at me and said something wasn't right that his head hurt so bad. He went back to the bedroom to lay down as I sat praying and thinking, this isn't something he should try to sleep off. My 12-year-old, at the time, got him to describe the pain, and when he came out of the bedroom more alarmed and in more pain, I started asking him questions and having him lift his arm, stick out his tongue, etc. There was not really any significant drooping of his right arm, but he couldn't figure out how to stick out his tongue, still knew his name, but couldn't come up with his birthday. He then began to throw up. My daughter grabbed a bucket and helped him to the car as I threw on a different shirt and ran to the bathroom before rushing to the hospital with him.
On the way, all I could eek out was a cryptic text to my sister in law asking her to pray. At the stop light, I managed to do the same on a Facebook plea for prayer.
I'm sorry to say that at this point, I knew he needed prayer but was in no shape myself to do so. I was numb and reliving losing my mom watching my husband exhibit many of the behaviors she had prior to her death.
We arrived at the ER, and his blood pressure was 181/118. They immediately called a Code Stroke and told me they were taking him to CT for a scan. They returned quickly telling me he had experienced a hemorrhagic stroke and that they were intubating him because he was throwing up, not because he was not breathing on his own. The nurses were amazing at explaining every step, but watching the intubation was horrific as several EMS workers stood around him preparing him for ambulance transfer to a different hospital that had a surgical room ready.
We arrived at the other hospital to be greeted by the neurosurgeon, who at this point, was trying to decide if he wanted to do surgery now or wait. To do it now would mean he would potentially bleed out and die. To wait could mean a brain swell, shift and death. That's when the surgeon told me:
"He may not survive this, and if he does, he won't be the man or the musician you knew!"
I didn't like my choices.
Every possible thought raced through my head playing out every scenario and wondering how to go about planning a funeral, and what our life would look like with no dad versus a dad in a vegetative state for who knows how long.
The next 36 hours brought significant swelling and his brain began to shift off midline. Immediate surgery is often recommended for a 5mm millimeter shift. His had moved 1cm centimeter (that's twice the distance for those of you who may not use metric every day) when the surgeon asked my permission to do surgery. Below is the CT scan from the ER. The big white blob on the right (which is really the left side of his brain) is the bleed. I saw but don't have a picture of, the following scans where his brain began to shift. I do, however, still see it in my head.
This was a really tough decision to be presented with given that 6 mos prior I watched my mom die after a head injury from a fall that created swelling and a very similar midline shift that ended in her death, so I knew the seriousness and I knew the haunting medical terms (a whole lot of PTSD and not an experience I wanted to watch again, especially not with my husband as I still grieved my mom and wished, so desperately, that she were there to help me) So much so that I could almost hear her voice comforting me.
His surgery was performed on May 19 early in the morning. We waited in the surgical waiting room with my sister and my children and my daughter's boyfriend as we watched a livestream of our church prayer meeting.... PRAYING FOR JOHN THE ENTIRE TIME. Just as the prayer service ended, the surgeon walked out not ten minutes later to tell us how it went.
The surgeon successfully removed the solidified blood that was approximately 5 cm X 2.6 cm, or about the size of a flattened tennis ball. Considering that the average human brain is about 15 cm. long, this was essentially on 1/3 of the left half of his brain. This was no small stroke.
His surgery was a success, and then the recovery began.
The surgeon successfully removed the solidified blood that was approximately 5 cm X 2.6 cm, or about the size of a flattened tennis ball. Considering that the average human brain is about 15 cm. long, this was essentially on 1/3 of the left half of his brain. This was no small stroke.
His surgery was a success, and then the recovery began.
One of those nights after a day in the ICU, even though my son warned me not to, I looked up the statistics of survival. Living to see 6 mos was a huge milestone and a big indication of further living. This is why 6 months has been my marked spot to breathe and relax if that's ever really possible.
Of course, I cannot find the one significant study that talked about the 6-month point, but here are some I have since re-found just to give you an idea at the low percentage rate of a good recovery:
Of course, I cannot find the one significant study that talked about the 6-month point, but here are some I have since re-found just to give you an idea at the low percentage rate of a good recovery:
We have all learned to lean into God for every second of every day. We have also seen the very best side of people, something I never thought anyone would ever hear me say since I tend to focus on the negative side of humanity. This has been an amazing exposure of kindness for me.
Again, thank you for your support, your prayers, and your kindness. I don't know how people go through something like this without it and without the hope in a healing and restorative God.
We knew he liked Star Bucks, but didn't realize just how much until our pastor brought him a cup:
To top off our adventures, there were two tornado warnings while he was in the ICU and step down. This one stranded us in a hallway in the basement by the cafeteria.
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