Dear Friends and Family,
First of all, thank you so much for your love and prayers. These are and will be what sustain us on what promises to be a very long journey. I so long to talk to each of you individually, but at the moment all of my thoughts and concentration are on Steve, and frankly I am not sure how to put into words the spectacle of his current condition.
For now, the greatest prayer request is for Steve’s breathing. The nerves affecting his chest area are traumatized, whether temporarily or permanently we do not know. The inflammation in his neck from the surgery and trauma are further obstructing his breathing. He was therefore re-intubated last night. While it is a relief to know that he is getting sufficient oxygen, the tube is uncomfortable and somewhat alarming to him. A nurse compared it to “breathing through a straw”. They are therefore keeping him quite deeply sedated. While last night we talked a bit and he was able to nod, today talking to him woke him too much and he began to struggle against the tube. So we mostly kept quiet and even refrained from touching him. Most likely they will keep him sedated this way for most of this week, as he will have to be intubated for the next surgery, and taking it out and putting it back in may be too traumatic.
So we are simply keeping vigil. Visiting hours are excruciatingly short, just fifteen minutes this morning and small half hour increments throughout the day. No children allowed. Leaving is for me the worst. I can barely put one foot in front of another in a direction that leads me away from him. No doubt I shall become more accustomed to this rhythm over time.
The good news is that Steve is stable. His heart is strong and his blood pressure has stabilized. Please pray that he does not get any infection or pneumonia as he recovers. The nurse says we can expect good days and bad days, one step forward and two steps back, and also our visits may or may not coincide with his less sedated periods, so we may not speak or interact at all in the few moments we have with him.
There is such a variety of recovery scenarios from truly horrific to relatively good, with the majority falling somewhere in between. As you may have heard, the doctor gave him just a 10% chance of ever regaining any meaningful use of his legs. I was quite frankly pleased with that statistic under the circumstances. However well it goes, this will likely be months, and there are many decisions to be made along to way. Do pray for wisdom for all of the family as we try to choose wisely. Aidan, Jude and even little Zephyr will most likely head down to the beach with Steve’s brother Mark and his family. They will be loved and playing in the sand. While my thoughts are not clear, I sense that this will be better for them than the trauma of what is happening here, even if they can have my presence. I am so grateful to Mark for providing that.
There is so very much to say, but most of all, I know in my deepest soul that God is GOOD and that he will bring forth something beautiful from this rubble. While the grief comes crashing down in waves, another part of me knows that a hand is holding me, and especially Steve, and my greatest prayer is that he will know that. Again, please pray Steve will breathe on his own. This is not just an issue for the ICU but for his life long term. Prayer is such wonderful medicine, and we so appreciate every one you can offer. And a silly little detail to end: no fresh flowers are allowed in ICU! Notes, pictures, cards, thoughts, verses are wonderful. We’re not there yet, but one day I will read them to Steve and I know it will buoy him tremendously.
With love, Michelle