By Lisa Ansay —
Generally, whether it’s Ron or me starting the day with Taylor, things go about the same each day. About 6am, Taylor is ready to either be tucked in for another hour or so, or his arms are behind his head, knees up, and he’s waiting to get things started. Warm washcloths for face, hands, neck, and mouthcare which includes brushing teeth with mouthwash soaked sponges connected to suction. Sometimes he’ll use a regular toothbrush, but suction instead of spitting for now. He still doesn’t have the old “swish and spit” quite down. But it’s coming.
This morning I walked into the room, the bed was made, the lights were on, and voices were coming from the bathroom. I could see a leg of his walker peeking out of the nearly-closed bathroom door. He has been walking a little, but with a lot of help. Not using a walker. Walkers are tricky.
He was standing at the sink with his nurse, Ashley, and he was brushing his teeth. In the sink. Water running. And spitting.
“Hi mom,” he said with a smile and a nod. I’m not sure who was smiling more, T or Ashley. (His nurses are wonderful. Really wonderful. He has quite a fan base here.)
He finished with a washcloth for the face, and with his walker, moved to the recliner and sat down with a sigh.
I know this may all seem so silly to consider a big deal, but man-oh-man these past few weeks have been much different than these past two days.
Last night he ate a nearly full supper again: cream of mushroom soup; whole milk; hot chocolate. After about a half dozen drinks of his hot chocolate, he said he didn’t really want more of it, unless…it could be hotter…and chocolatier. His speech therapist was there and she got a pretty good kick out of that. So off I went in search of a better hot chocolate. I concocted something more akin to what my great-grandma Swanson would have created, and he enjoyed several more drinks.
We chatted a bit about cooking – I told him of some delicious spaghetti squash I had the other night, and he nodded and said he likes it too. (I know I have never made it because I had never heard of it before! I ate a lot of goulash growing up). He said they made it in class (culinary arts at LAHS). He told me of making crab puffs, and roux, and baking pies. His mind and speech were clear. It was awesome. Tearing up just typing the words.
Again, I know this stuff may seem silly to gush about, and I’m not sure of the picture painted of Ts recovery with these posts. But these past few weeks have been hard. Even scary. And to sit and chat with Taylor, really chat with Taylor, has been missed. For me, it has been the thing I missed the most.
Taylor’s brain has been injured. No doubt about that. But his intellect, wit, sensitivity, memory, and role as the quitessential smart-aleck is all right there. And as you all say, his spirit is strong.
He even busted out some EMT lingo. I was telling him about some of his initial laundry list of injuries, and that aside from the head injury, the only bones he broke were his two uppermost ribs. He was surprised by that. (Remember that as part of brain injury, short-term memory is a rarity. I think the Lord does that so folks don’t get tired of months and months of recovery. Every day is a new day.) Anyway, I explained that the ribs that were broken, did a little extra damage. I asked him what it’s called when broken ribs do extra damage.
He shrugged and asked, “lung?”
“Yeah, lung damage.”
He shrugged again, shaking his head. “Can’t remember what that’s called,” he said.
“phneuuuuuuuuuuu….” I hinted…
“Pneumothorax,” he said.
By then, his Internal Medicine doc walked in, and as is customary, with a quick “hi” he plugs his stethescope into his ears and leans in for a listen. (Ron and I always wonder what he’s listening for – since he does this every day – has for five months now, and never says anything. Is it bowel? Heart? Lungs?)
Anyway, I continued with Taylor, “Both sides. So what is that when it involves both sides?”
Just in time for Dr. Julian to pull the plugs from his ears, Taylor responds, “bilateral pneumothorax.”
The expression on Dr. Julian’s face was priceless. He hasn’t heard Taylor say much all these months, other than many many “uh-huh”s.
“Well those are mighty big words, there Taylor!” Dr. Julian said grinning ear to ear.
“Uh-huh” Taylor replied.
There is talk of discharge today – orders are pending with many details to hash out with medicine, etc. He’ll move into the apartment in Phoenix which is temporary “home” and begin outpatient therapies and follow-up with his legion of doctors. Once that phase is wrapped up, we’re still on track for Minnesota. Stay tuned…
