By Lisa Ansay —
I have chosen not to read too many “personal accounts” of those affected by Traumatic Brain Injury.
This has been both good, and bad.
I did not want to get too caught up with stories of how bad things can be, yet I did not allow for the stories of the whole healing/recoveries and miracles either.
Taylor is certainly contributing data points to support the argument: just because doctors say so, doesn’t make it so!
Doctors have said his fine motor skills could take several months to several years to redevelop. He was tying his own shoes – with double bows for extra security – in the first TWO months.
Doctors have said the cranial nerves that operate his right eye, and the right side of his face/mouth were damaged – even crushed. Paralysis of those muscles is not expected to reverse. He was raising eyebrows, smiling symetrically, and increased lip movement within the first 2-3 months. His throat, tongue and soft pallet are now functioning enabling swallowing and clearer speach. And the right eye has been open for (I’d have to check the journal entry) about a month-and-a-half now? Blinking? (which requires a different part of the brain – now functioning)
Taylor has his long-term memory, his sense of humor, his attitudical personality, can type by touch, walk .5 mile to a mile a day (even after 2 of the last 3 brain surgeries) without a walker, and play excerpts of Fur Elise and Vivaldi and more on the piano. Let’s not forget the Dualing Banjos moment during Uncle Jimmy’s visit. This list goes on and on.
So I often ask myself, ‘Am I just being a hopeful mom in thinking he will be okay?’ ‘Is this what all moms and dads do at times like this?’
Maybe. Because we all feel our own children are so extra special they are one click away from leaping tall buildings in a single bound.
The past five days have been very difficult, as Taylor simply sleeps. And quietly heals. And sleeps. And sleeps. He looks great – but he sleeps. All the time.
His Great-Grandma Fran has a birthday this week, and I have had a card for him to sign for days. I was holding off sending it just-in-case he could break through his fog for a moment and…I don’t know…sign his name for her. I mean it’s Grandma Fran, and she’ll be 83! I would sign it for him, if I had to….
Yesterday, his nurse was hooking up his IV, and he woke up and stretched a little. I raced to his bedside and asked if he would be up to signing a card for Great-Grandma Fran, and he smiled and nodded.
I pushed the button to elevate head of the bed and slid the rolling table in front of him across his lap.
I put the card in his left hand so he could feel the edges, and know where to sign. I put the pen in his right hand, and told him he had the whole left side of the card to sign his name, as big as he wanted.
The photo on this journal entry is a pic of what he wrote, before he handed me the pen with a smile. I lowered his head back to sleeping position, and he was fast asleep in seconds. What you cannot see in this image, is the string of XOXOXOXOXO…..off to the left and below. It trailed so long it went off the edge of the card. He, of course, did this sightless, so I think he did pretty well!
It is worth viewing in “Photos” to see clearly. The smaller print below the text is his name.
I was so surprised I had to take a picture of it. I think Great-Grandma Fran will be thrilled with her Birthday Card.
P.S. She hasn’t yet received it, so SHHHHHHHH!
Fine motor…in a year or more?
The Great Physician is in charge, here. And He has a different timetable, it seems.
