Steve Ruetschle

From Michelle.  4 September, 2010  12 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

The predictable rhythms of our hospital days have now come to an end.  As we enter the seemingly mundane activities of everyday life, our already rapid pace has picked up.  The removal of that complex web of around-the-clock nurses, nurse techs, food specialists, doctors, OTs, PTs, RTs, and so on has left us feeling rather bare and not a little bit vulnerable.  The good news is that in this sink or swim situation we seem to be swimming, though barely!

Perhaps the greatest challenge has been in the caregiver arena.  It takes three to four hours to get Steve ready each day.  Between eating, bowel program, bathing and stretches, hoyer lifting him in and out of bed and chairs, all the while trying to patiently explain every detail to the new caregiver, it is an intense daily regimen.  It is sometimes so frustrating explaining it over and over that Steve and I are tempted to simply have me do it!  We know, however, that this is not sustainable for our family, as the children need my attention first thing in the morning.  Most frustrating of all is that we are expending all of this energy on temporary caregivers until we can set up our more permanent situation through the state Medicaid hours we have been allotted!  I cannot express both the physical and emotional challenge of taking in strangers and allowing them to do the most personal things to Steve, with great risk of hurting him, while I try to supervise.  This morning, I warmed up my coffee four times before finally giving up!  And this with Steve’s parents helping with the children!  Steve has endured the greatest indignities in this process and we have often shared a sharp intake of breath at some narrowly avoided disaster.  I long to erase every incident and tend to him as lovingly as he deserves.  Please pray with us that our Medicaid “COPES” hours come through quickly and that God brings the perfect caregiver(s) into our home.

On a brighter note, it has been wonderful to have Steve around.  The boys are reveling in their Dad, and yesterday, I watched Steve “chase” the boys in his wheelchair in the driveway, with all three running away, giggling, shouting and generally full of life.  It felt like a rare bridge to the past, a normal playful moment with Papa, the chair momentarily insignificant amidst the laughter.  Thanks to Steve’s parents, Steve and I also enjoyed a rare moment of quiet and solitude yesterday.  What sustaining joy amidst the parade of caregivers to enjoy that bit of intimate time together!

Steve plays tag

Slowly we are learning the routine, from how best to arrange the pillows to prop up Steve’s body, to how to put on the super-tight pressure stockings, to how best to do a one-person transfer, etc.  The details are endless, but we continue to be carried through, and miracle of miracles, we are adapting!  The amazing offers of help continue and as we begin to understand our needs, we look forward to building up that wonderful network or friends and community that has continued to astound us with care.

As the week has progressed, I confess that there have been moments of overwhelm.  I have at times been inundated by the sheer ocean of detail.  But I have found that the sense of urgency can and does beautifully evaporate in the presence of the Amazing Love that carries us.  What came to mind this morning was the account of Jesus calming the storm.  The storm comes.  The waves threaten to overwhelm the boat.  But Jesus sleeps peacefully.  It is my belief, and increasingly my experience, that by His grace, we too can sleep peacefully through this storm.

Thank you so much for your continued love and prayers.  Please know how deeply we are comforted by your words, though we do not have time to respond.  I have been amazed at the faithfulness of friends and family, the amazingly sustained and sustaining power of all of the love and prayers that continue to flow for us.  Yesterday, with minimal equipment, Steve painstakingly transferred himself from the bed to his chair with several of us merely spotting him.  With the help of a therapist he is also practicing standing on his own for a few tremulous, proud moments.  Given the nature of his injury, this is nothing short of miraculous.  We continue to be amazed.

With love and gratitude,
Michelle

From Sean. Sept 02, 2010.

When we last had time and space to write an update for this blog, Steve was on the verge of leaving Harborview and coming home to the house in Edmonds. His release date was in fact August 28, 2010. He spent much of that day saying rich, long goodbyes to fellow patients and the wonderful staff at Harborview. Miche had everything packed up by the time I got there, and after the goodbyes we loaded up the van and off they went… headed home after more than two months and two hospitals in two states.

Steve’s sister (Kim) and brother-in-law (Greg) were visiting for the weekend from Ohio, as well as one of Michelle’s dearest friends (Heather) from Colorado. This trio partnered with the three boys and they all worked to organize and decorate the house with streamers, signs, and much love. The boys were particularly excited to have their Papa home.

That evening, over a lovely dinner of Thai food, we raised our glasses to the reality that “home”–real, true, deep home– exists wherever love is most fully expressed; and so we toasted the home that Steve and Michelle’s love for one another has been throughout the years.

It was a sweet moment. But that’s not to say that every moment of the last week has been sweet.

It is hard to adequately articulate the struggle that the Ruetschle’s are in as they are (literally) creating a new way of life… with most every moment filled with so much hope, faith, grief, details, people, and tasks. After having 24/7 hospital care for over two months, the difficulty of learning new ways of being a family, a father, husband, wife, son, mother… well, the edges can perhaps be softened by helpful family and friends, but there’s no way around the sheer struggle.

Many dear, generous people have emailed or called, asking to help. So many want to know the details in order to better offer advice, help, or resources. And these ways of reaching out are greatly valued and appreciated… and over the long haul, needed! It’s just simply the case that, now, in these early days of adjusting to a new way of life, what is needed most is very specific in-home care.

So to that end, we are once again asking for prayer (or applicants) that the right caregiver(s) would surface. Steve and Michelle can certainly hire caregivers from a variety of agencies (and they are currently going this route), but agency help often sees high turnover, and Steve and Michelle want to hire the right person(s) willing to take on this role for the next year.

Please note: For anyone considering applying, we do not necessarily need individuals skilled in physical therapy. We simply need a good, solid, mature person (or persons) who can be trained in the daily routine. So if you know a really exceptional person looking for work, have them email steve.volunteer@gmail.com.

Also, I’d ask that you all please continue praying for Michelle. As you’ve been able to read through the pages of this blog, she is brave, grace-filled and strong on so many levels, and yet I also know that she is tired. Please pray that the right caregiver(s) will soon be hired in order to create the space that she too needs to heal from the dislocation and disruption of the last months.

Also, for Steve… prayer that the physical gains and healing would continue.

With gratitude. More soon.

From Michelle. 26 August, 2010. 11 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

Every night I long to write and record the many events, mostly out of my longing to touch base with the awesome wellspring of prayers, good wishes, and wonderful support from all of you! Increasingly, however, sheer fatigue has won out over desire. We are now coming into a new phase of the marathon. The adrenalin of the initial sprint has worn off, but the greater part of the race looms ahead, and we long to fall into that more steady pace and rhythm that carries runners through to the finish. One more major hurdle yet to go, however: transition home.

We now have what feels to be a firmer date: August 28th. After 71 long hospital days, Steve will finally reenter the real world in his new body. While this is, on the one hand, joyful news, it is on the other a daunting hurdle. Last Saturday we got our first taste as I drove Steve home for a “test run” overnight stay. Granted, we had no help lined up but our own cheerful and determined spirits! For 36 hours I ran myself ragged between Steve and the kids, and Steve agonized over every request made, knowing I was already over-extended. He lay helpless in one room while I dealt with a child in another, waiting for a moment to catch my attention. Small practicalities began to dawn on the both of us. Not only can I not leave the children, and most particularly Zephyr, safely at home with Steve, but I cannot leave Steve safely with the children! Our hearts jumped out of our chests several times, including when Zephyr climbed into Steve’s chair when Steve was already in bed and somehow managed to turn it on and nearly pin Steve to the mattress! Another heart stopping moment occurred on the following morning when the wheelchair did not work for almost ten minutes and no one from the hospital could help us. We were helpless! Fortunately, the machine eventually resuscitated itself!

Nighttime proved the most challenging of all. We both dreaded the alarm, set for every three hours, when I would have to get up to turn Steve, rearrange the numerous pillows propping up his body at comfortable angles and switch the boots that are used to keep his feet from “dropping”. I would just begin to drift off again after one of these (for me) athletic episodes when Steve would reluctantly have to awaken me again to move a leg or help him in some other way. Steve felt terrible and I felt terrible that he felt terrible. These are the rhythms we will find over time, no doubt! For now, however, it was an uncomfortable and sleepless process.

As the doctor said, it’s going to be hard no matter when we do it. As we wait for state support and funding to be arranged, we are cobbling together an interim plan, feeling around in the dark for what our basic necessities might be, what kind of support the children will also be comfortable with, and how in the world I will find time to sleep during the day to recover from those demanding nights! God has been so good, and we continue to pray for his faithfulness in all of these details.

Nevertheless, our energy and enthusiasm is flagging. Our spirits are truly willing, yet our bodies are giving way! Please pray especially for Steve during this time, that his amazing spirit and determination would remain strong, that we would find good therapists outside the hospital who will encourage him to excel both physically and mentally, and that our caregivers would easily blend into our home. The adjustment to sharing our life as a family with all of these new folk will be a challenge in and of itself, but with the right individuals, it will work. Our flagging spirits are in no small part attributable to the fact that we have spent so little time together recently. We miss each other terribly. This, at least, will end soon.

On a brighter note, many of our most recent prayer requests have been beautifully answered! I am truly delighted to announce that the boys have a school, and not just any school but a lovely private Christian school not far from our home that we anticipate will be the perfect community to walk alongside us through this year. The circumstances leading up to this have been such that I feel this is a “God thing”. We are beyond grateful! The boys are excited to meet their new teachers on Monday! This took a deep burden from me, and I feel that in every way humanly possible, my big boys are well provided for. Please pray as I also consider what, if anything, to do with Zephyr! My greatest awareness is that I will need to SLEEP some day, and that daytime may be better than nights in the beginning, not an easy task with a two year old in tow! We shall see!

Also, our state hours of assistance look like they will be coming through. While we are still walking through this system, we are grateful that the hours assigned will greatly help to meet our needs and are on the upper end of the spectrum. We are aware that we will need every minute ascribed!

As we end this stage and begin another, I look back on the leg of the race already run. In the beginning, we wondered whether Steve would breathe on his own, talk on his own, require a tracheotomy, have full mental recovery, and survive his surgeries. We then wondered if the excruciating pain would ever recede, if he would every wiggle a finger or a toe, or lift a fork. In 69 days, he is doing all of this and more. We know that the trajectory cannot continue forever, but we hope and pray that it will carry us far further into mobility and independence and yes, even a walking, leaping, preaching Steve! Your prayers are so very deeply appreciated as they have carried and continue to carry us through this journey!

It has been awhile since I ended with a verse. Some verses bear repeating, and this is one of them: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43:1-3. We are riding on His back through the flood.

Love,

Michelle

This following entry is from Steve’s good friend Allen Wolf. August 25, 2010.

Steve is snoring softly in the background as I write this from the makeshift bed in his hospital room. It’s more of a reclining chair than a bed but it does the trick. The night before I flew up from Los Angeles to see Steve, he asked me if I could spend a few nights at the hospital. He warned me I wouldn’t sleep well. Every three hours a nurse comes into the room to rotate him in his bed and empty his urinal so it’s impossible to sleep through the night. But I didn’t mind. I was looking forward to it.

I’ve known Steve since I was eight years old and for a summer we shared apartments when we were both students in New York City. Steve helped me discover Redeemer Church in New York and drew the logo for my film production company. I never imagined we would be roommates again — in a hospital room! The constant joking and mischievousness we shared in our east coast apartment quickly returned at Harborview Medical Center. This morning we loudly sang bad love songs as the nurses got Steve ready for the day until the head doctor came in to ask what’s going on. We were all soon laughing and trying to remember the words to “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

Years ago, we played a hilarious practical joke on a Blockbuster employee when I posed as a stranger and pretended to steal a video from Steve after he just checked it out of the store. Yesterday, I stood next to him in a drug store while his weakened hands couldn’t flip open a simple top to a plastic bottle. “My life is very different now,” he remarked to me.

The night before I saw Steve for the first time in the hospital, I had a dream that I saw him in his room and wept. I think that was my emotions trying to find an outlet. When I finally saw him in person, I was filled with joy that my dear friend was alive and vigorously working through his rehab.

Our first day together was a rehab mountain-top, which I captured on my video camera (see the video post below of Steve in the pool). Steve went into a pool for the first time and stood up on his own. Then, hours later, he was strapped into a machine and with the help of four therapists was able to step through the movements of walking. He was exhausted that evening and explained to me how the smallest exertion of his body can lead him to complete fatigue. We prayed together and he soon drifted off to sleep.

On Saturday, my wife and I looked after their kids as Steve and Michelle had a rare date together before Steve arrived to his home to stay overnight for the first time. The experience revealed how much they weren’t prepared yet for the transition. At one point, Steve was trapped in a room for what felt like hours after one of his kids had inadvertently dropped a pillow in the room’s doorway.

On Monday, I joined Steve back at the hospital where he explained the details of the weekend and how discouraging it was. We prayed and gave God the details – we needed the Lord to give insight for the right schools for the boys, equipment for the house, a longer hospital stay and much much more. By Tuesday, all the prayers had been answered. The boys will be starting in their new school soon (Kings school), the house is getting equipment and his hospital stay has been extended until sometime between August 28th & 31st.

Steve continues to break his own records in his rehab. On the bicycle machine yesterday, he broke the “2” resistance barrier for the first time, a huge accomplishment. He weekly increases the amount of resistance exercises he can do and how long he can endure them. Your prayers are being answered!

Steve compliments his caregivers constantly. “You’re the best night nurse…” “You know just how to adjust my pillow…” “You’re the best at stretching me…” Everyone around Steve gets showered with compliments from him and loves being on the “Steve team”. His heart is exactly where it needs to be – reflecting the love of Jesus.

The challenges facing Steve & Michelle are daunting. One evening, Michelle told Steve “today has been like every other day. I have too much to do and not enough time to do it.” In the center of the chaos, they cherish the rare quiet times they have with each other, connecting on the phone or eating a cafeteria meal at his bedside.

Last night, as Steve and I prayed together before nodding off, the words of James 1:1-4 came to mind “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

The aftermath of Steve’s accident has produced a number of trials in their lives coupled with a strong sense of perseverance. Please join me in praying that Steve, Michelle and their family continue to experience Jesus as their energy, joy and foundation. While it’s difficult to see Steve paralyzed, lying in his hospital bed looking immobile and helpless, it’s assuring to know that the power of Christ’s resurrection resonates in his bones and gives new life to his spirit and hope for his healing.

From Michelle. 20 August, 2010. Midnight.

Dear friends and family,

The other night, I read a quote by William Barclay that seems to sum up one aspect of this experience for me: “It will always help us if we regard this world as organized not for our comfort but for our training.” I have felt “trained” during this time, spiritually, emotionally and physically. Like an athlete who undergoes a season of training, I suppose I will not recognize myself on the other end.

So far, the training has had several unique positive outcomes: a great sense of compassion, a deeper gratitude and a humbling perception of my own limits. The compassion is gifted to us by the people down the hall and the many stories shared in emails, cards and conversations by all of you, that remind us that we are not only not alone in our suffering but even fortunate.

The gratitude has been the lightest training to bear, flowing easily from the goodness all around us, from the woman who hardly knows me who took the time to write a card and pass on home baked cookies, to another woman down the hall with a spinal cord injury who prays for Steve, to the concerts and many offers of time and talents, to the thoughtful cards and gifts, and to the astounding generosity witnessed in the special needs trust.

Dark things can elicit a response of almost blinding light, and it has been our privilege to receive that light in myriad beautiful forms. The humbling, well, that speaks for itself, but in the best possible sense, the knowledge that I need all of you and that I need God to get through. I hope it remains after the darkness lifts.

There is much to be grateful for, and I am happy to report on it! The biggest news is that Steve has been reclassified as an Asia D. This means that there are significant nerves and muscles below his level of injury which are able to now move against gravity. In other words, the leg bends, the Pele kicks, the strengthening of the torso, the foot bends and lifts and yes, quite significantly, Steve’s ability to pee, have placed him in a new category of injury where the possibility of mobility has again increased.

To say that this is good news is an understatement! I think that both Steve and I are still absorbing the possible consequences, daring to hope further while also fearing the possible disappointments (so close and yet so far!). The relationship between prayer and real world events are mysterious and yet, in the simplest of terms, and with a good pinch of audacity, I’ll say that your prayers are working! Steve’s body is healing, gradually and at a creeping pace for Steve, and yet at a remarkable pace given his injury and prognosis. We will never understand why some have these better outcomes while others do not, but we give thanks, deep thanks, that we are at present receiving this amazing blessing, knowing full well that we do not deserve it in the least.

In all meaningful terms, Steve is still paralyzed. I still need to transfer him from the bed to his chair with a contraption called a hoyer lift, and once he is in his chair, he cannot move from it without assistance. There is much he cannot do, but there is promise of more, much more, ahead.

Today, for example, Steve stood in water. He also tried a “walking machine,” something which lifts and suspends him so that his feet can try to simulate the movements of walking. Spasms kept him from feeling any ease of movement, however just seeing him upright and moving was a huge encouragement!

The other day, his physical therapist had him in the standing machine, and wheeled him down the hall toward our room. I happened to exit the room at that time and saw him wheeling toward me, standing upright. It was a vision to behold! I had forgotten the distinct quality a person exudes while standing, something to do with strength, virility, and authority. It was the old Steve grinning down at me, a posture already almost forgotten, where he is big and I am small, and the world felt right again for a moment.

Please continue to pray for the right school for the children. I cannot seem to find the peace of knowing the best place for them or to close in on the details necessary to place them. I notice that of all the details and adjustments, this is my most vulnerable hope: to see the boys thriving in a learning environment that is just right for them. Today was discouraging in that regard and I am required to trust God with my most precious desires, for the children themselves. I know this too will come.

Praising for the D!

Michelle

From Sean. 20 August, 2010.

I’ll be in Portland over the next several days and this is my last night at Harborview. As the departure date for Steve approaches there will no doubt be more video, reflections, and posts about Steve’s last two months in the hospital. A look back at this time will, I think, be good for Steve himself. He (for obvious reasons) doesn’t remember very much about those early days and weeks. We have much of it documented in photos and video, and so I imagine an even deeper integration of the story of these months will take place for him as he’s able to see the images and hear the reflections and stories from friends.

As the transition for Steve into home-life with Miche and the boys approaches, I’ve thought a great deal recently about time. Or at least about how we are always located in every given moment with a story of what has/is past, along with a constant shaping of our present based on the story we have about the future we’re living into.

We publish ourselves… as story… in time… and the responsibility (freedom, really) to write our lives as revelation and gift is with each of us. The pen is a living thing.

The first day Steve entered Harborview he was able to move a small toe… once. That was about it. He was emotionally fragile, physically broken, and all of it immersed in uncertainty. Today, many of his major muscle groups are firing–signals are getting through. He can move his legs against gravity; there is tricep strength; increased finger movement; toes are curling; urinary function has returned… in essence, Steve continues to learn to live in a very different body than he had two months ago. And more… he’s learning to live in a body that continues to change with each passing week and with each gain in strength.

The next months are going to be very hard for Steve. Physically hard. He is going to work and work to continue to maximize these physical gains… to push and teach/learn and shape his body back into a state of independence. Where this will ultimately lead is, well… going to be an adventure, and he’s geared up for it in every way. As is Michelle!

And I can’t wait to see it unfold.

But what does that have to do with time, and the story of this time?

I’ll admit to being a broken record about tragedy making things transparent, and given the irrevocably contingent and temporary nature of everybody’s place in our world, well…

… tonight as Steve and I laid in our respective hospital beds and talked into the dark about these last months, I confessed that for me the central plot in all of this has really NOT been Steve’s body… broken or recovering. The tragedy of this accident; quadriplegia; rehab; recovery, etc… the physical drama of what is happening to Steve is all, well, extraordinary no doubt, but I think actually third or fourth on my list.

First! First… Steve and Michelle’s marriage. Two as a living one. They will shy away from any praise… but their marriage is an announcement of grace in the world. I ask Michelle what gets her through each day. Love is immediately on her lips. At the scene of the accident as Steve lay on the side of the road thinking he was going to die…. love was on his lips. And you can’t separate out their marriage from their parenting. Their boys. This love is all one and the same. Unconcealed in all of their grace and suffering as an icon of generative, immeasurable love that endures for one another.

Second… the catalyst and influence of community. Your sustained, unreasonable generosity turning evil into good at each unexpected turn so far. You know who you are. With so many thousands following this story from every continent, I wonder about the influence and catalyst of your compassion; of what is made possible when the strong and weak carry each other across so many boundaries.

And third, I suppose, would be Steve’s spinal cord and all that follows.

Some may protest that God is somehow missing from my list. Impossible!

This takes me back to thoughts I’ve been having on ‘time’.

(If) the gospel is true (not as a mere ‘proposition’ but rather an encounter: the encounter) then eschatologically speaking, isn’t Christ always inviting: for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear? Mine are definitely dim… but I still can’t deny that in the transparency of this tragedy I’ve heard and seen at least the shadows of what remains through the daily contingency of it all:

Faith, hope, and love remain… and the greatest of these is not Steve’s spinal cord or insurance policy or income or housing status (even as I am in awe of the struggle these have been). It’s this if I can say it:

The body will break and no matter the severity, love outpoured from or to or with the broken, is a resurrection. And the resurrected can never truly go back. And resurrection is not, perhaps, inevitable. It requires something. For those willing to give it, with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Christos Anesti. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

As Steve begins his transition out of Harborview (Aug 25th) we are looking to hire both full and part-time help for the Ruetschle family. We are looking to fill two positions:

1) A daytime Caregiver for Steve
2) An evening Nanny/home-care helper

The primary location for these positions will be at the Ruetschle home in Edmonds, but will also involve some local travel (to appointments, etc). We are looking for care during the following time-frames:

Caregiver position: Full-time, daily from 7am to 4pm.
Nanny/Home-care position: Part-time, daily from 4pm to 8pm (or 9pm flexible, depending on the need).

Coverage for both positions is needed seven days a week, so we are looking for both full and part-time candidates.

CAREGIVER POSITION DESCRIPTION:
Steve is currently diagnosed as an Asia-D quadriplegic, and over the course of this next year he will be focused on a rigorous physical therapy program. We are looking for caregivers for Steve who are mature, responsible, compassionate, strong (emotionally and physically), and come with a good sense of humor! While specific PT training will be helpful, we will also be wiling to train the right person. Candidates need to be physically fit; have a valid WA state drivers license; and be willing to flex and assist with whatever challenge each day may bring.

Caregiver duties include but are not limited to:

• Transferring to and from bed & wheelchairs
• Personal care services such as showering, skin care, dressing, helping brush teeth, and grooming
• Range of motion exercises
• Meal preparation
• Help with bowel/bladder program and care
• Skin inspection & care
• Driving a wheelchair accessible van to appointments
• Other general care responsibilities as needed/flexible

References required.  Salary is negotiable based on experience.

NANNY/HOME-CARE POSITION
The Ruetschle’s are a fun-loving, Christian family with three young boys and a caring community. The boys are aged 2, 7, and 8. The home is a lovely, spacious, wheelchair accessible home in Edmonds. We are looking for a mature, fun and child-loving nanny willing to step in and help with a variety of both child and home-care tasks.  Candidates need to have had prior experience working with children; a caring and nurturing spirit; and the ability to step-in and help where most needed.

The Nanny/home-care duties include but are not limited to:

• General care & supervision of the three boys
• Reading stories/ playing games
• Scheduling evening activities
• Meal prep
• Errands
• Light housework
• In addition, this person will be trained in basic caregiving for Steve so they can serve as a backup as needed.

References required.  Salary is negotiable based on experience.

All interested candidates should email steve.recovery@gmail.com with a resume and letter of introduction.

Lastly, please forward this to any interested parties, and we appreciate your prayers in finding and hiring the right people!

From Michelle.  15 August, 2010  9:30 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

Finally, I write from our new home, where the house is quiet with the dreams of my boys, and I am blissfully drinking in a rare moment of solitude.  It is amazing how quickly the little ones have commandeered this space, filling it with the random paraphernalia of their young lives: toys, stained and sweaty clothes, wrappers, crafts and half begun projects soon forgotten.  It is messy but lived in, and attests to the laughter (mostly), fighting (rare) and tears (few) that make up their lives.  How quickly and willingly they adapt!  We are thankful.  A friend said that in Rwanda they say, “sempre Gumby,” or in other words, “be adaptable,” or as we would say here, “go with the flow.”  The children are leading the way!

We follow.  Steve continues to improve in small but steady increments.  He can now with great effort raise and move his foot and lower leg while sitting in the wheelchair, balance on a right leg and a left arm in order to heave his body back more comfortably into his chair, and his fingers move slightly up and out as well as down and in.  The doctors call him a moving target.  We love that he is so difficult to pin down!  They have granted us one more week at the hospital, a welcome reprieve as we seek to arrange for caregivers and await the equipment needed for his life in the home.

I too am gaining some skills, some mentionable and some not!  I can now get Steve hooked up in the van with relative ease (a tether for each wheel of the chair and the seatbelt still required and laboriously wrapped through chair and around chest!), and today I resolved that I will learn how to give his daily blood thinning injection – we shall see if I can do it without fainting!  We are entering normal daily life with greater boldness with each frontier conquered (amazing how daunting these simple activities now are!): yesterday, a movie theater and a restaurant with the boys; today, the home with just the five of us and church.

Church.  Ah.  It had been so long, not from a lack of desire to worship (on the contrary!)or see beloved faces, but from the sheer wave of emotion evoked by all of that kindness  and all of those memories all at once.  I had to do it the first time with Steve and today, he and I were finally able and ready.  An unexpected joy swept over me as I sang my favorite hymn: “In Christ alone my hope is found, He is my light, my strength, my song, This Cornerstone, this solid ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm, What heights of love, what depths of peace, when fears are stilled, when strivings cease, My Comforter, my All in All, Here in the love of Christ I stand,” and then my other favorite line, “No power of hell, no scheme of man, could ever pluck me from His hand, ‘til He returns or calls me home…”  Great comfort it was indeed to affirm the ground of faith firm beneath my feet and His hand ever holding me to that beloved tune!  Better yet to do it with Steve’s hand in mine, though his grasp is different and the ungainly chair between us!  Thank you to all of the kind faces that greeted us today and made it so special!

Thank you all for your continued prayers.  Our house is on the market at a less than ideal time but for a good price: http://tours.tourfactory.com/tours/tour.asp?t=648014.  We hope that, God willing, it sells quickly and blesses someone else in turn.  Please continue to pray for all of the details, especially as we prepare to bring Steve home in ten short days.  The boys miss him and we will be glad to have him among us, but his care will also require some real adjustments and a learning curve as we master life with a wheelchair in the home.  Please pray especially that Steve would remain strong and encouraged as he continues to heal, under the hand of mercy and grace.

We love you!

Michelle

From Michelle.  11 August, 2010.  1:30 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

It feels like weeks since my last update.  In fact, it has been a rather long six days.

The weight of details ebb and flow, but this past week has brought another wave of decisions, information and detail.  The “to do” list grows in length and the time in which to do it lags behind.  Perhaps one of the most challenging aspects of this time is the sheer lack thereof.  Dear friends pop in and every minute I spend with them is a minute not spent handling crucial planning.  Ironically, there is no time for processing grief, meeting with supportive friends and family or even having one on one time with each other.  In six weeks in the hospital, Steve and I have not managed to watch a single movie together!  We have become desperate for time as a couple yet the interruptions to our every well-intentioned plan to be alone have become almost comic in their regularity!  Our departure date from Harborview looms in eight days, and the children are not yet definitively enrolled in school, we have no idea what benefits we will qualify for from the state, we have no medical insurance confirmed for the end of the month for myself and the children and due to other paperwork and testing, we have no in home care lined up for Steve.  How in the world all of the running, interviewing and paperwork has lined up so little defies belief, however this is how the system works!  Many of the deadlines loom at the end of a hospital stay, and schools in the Puget Sound just opened this week for enrollment.  Each day provides its own portion of details, and we simply do what we can.  Just the most pressing details often keep me busy until midnight.  Dear friends, perhaps this will explain my inability to contact each one of you personally, though my heart longs to do so!  Please continue to pray for God’s good provision for us as we trust Him for these details.

On a medical note, an MRI has confirmed that the pain in Steve’s shoulder is the result of a torn rotator cuff.  One of the main goals of physical therapy is to work on Steve doing transfers on his own from his bed to his chair.  It is a formidable goal, but greatly increases his sense of independence.  His ability to work on this and other important skills, like propelling himself in a manual wheelchair or rolling himself over in bed, are limited by his injury.  Needless to say, Steve is anxious to work hard and is discouraged by this latest setback.

Last Sunday we tiptoed our way still further into the new yet strangely unfamiliar world of “normal life”.  Steve and I took the boys to a soccer game at the Qwest arena located within eyesight of the hospital.  A kind friend donated tickets, we got day passes from the hospital, we used our wonderful wheelchair accessible vehicle, and with medical supplies in our bag, fresh knowledge in our heads and hope in our hearts, we took ourselves out into the great wild world!  It was both powerfully exhilarating and intensely discouraging, all at the same time.  What was wonderful was being out and about with the kids.  Jude naturally hopped onto the back of Steve’s chair for a ride, both children helped fasten and unfasten the many straps for Steve’s chair in the van, and neither of the boys seemed to blink at the many odd twists and turns it took to do what was formerly a simple task.  We now had to find strangely allotted wheelchair accessible parking halfway around the arena from the entrance, negotiate lines too narrow for a wheelchair, hold open doors, locate elevators, and find wheelchair accessible family bathrooms.  None of this deterred us from cheering the Sounders on to victory, however I cannot lie and say that Steve and I did not have sad eyes most of the game.  The hospital has been a haven from the greater reality of our new life.  Here we are surrounded by others with similar challenges and those who support us for a living.  Everything is wheelchair accessible, and an entire fleet of personnel are here to meet our every need and assuage any medical challenge immediately as it arises.  Out there we will have to direct, educate and problem solve a world that operates on two feet.  We all face challenges, those on two feet and those in chairs, but this is ours.

On a positive note, we are being carried through.  It is hard to imagine that only eight weeks ago, we were simply enjoying our vacation among family and friends, and preparing to return refreshed to our wonderful home in the Philippines!  The road has been both difficult beyond imagining and remarkably punctuated with grace and love.  As we peer into a dimly lit future, we exercise the muscles of our faith in new ways that painfully polish our souls bur hopefully leave us shining brighter.

Please continue to pray for provision in all of the details, from insurance to schools to the perfect caregivers for our family.  Most of all, please pray that Steve would be encouraged and that God would continue to heal.  Your prayers are already heard.

A miracle happened this week that I hope will encourage us all.  After months of catheterization, Steve has been able to urinate on his own.  This may seem like a trivial or overly intimate detail, however I share it with you because it is in many ways truly miraculous, and an answer to many of your prayers.  The nerves that control this area must travel from the brain, past Steve’s level of injury, to the very end of the spine.  He is still practicing, however his ability to exercise any kind of control in this area is nothing short of miraculous to me.  It not only greatly increases Steve’s level of dignity and independence, it speaks to the ability of his nerves to communicate far beyond the level of his spinal cord injury, at least to this most remote area of the spine.  Please pray that God would continue to heal him in this way!  The Message translates Ephesian 3:20 like this: “God can do anything, you know – far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.”  May he continue to work deeply and gently within us all!

Love,
Michelle