Steve Ruetschle

18 July, 2010 11 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

Steve had a wonderful, restful Sunday. His fever came down overnight, and his spirits rose throughout the course of the day. These were helped by the fact that while his Dad was stretching his legs this afternoon, Steve moved his big toe! When I came back from putting the boys down for the night, he proudly showed me over and over again… a good strong movement in the right toe! I was squealing with delight! It may have been my imagination, but when I asked him to move his whole foot (yes, I push him!), I think I may have seen the slightest tremor. Perhaps the work of the big toe, but perhaps something more?

This morning Steve and I had our first good stretch of alone time in over a week… so precious! We read together, listened together, wept together and laughed together, and generally enjoyed the quiet, sunlit space of his room, with just a few straggling medical personnel – the sleepy Sunday crowd. Steve’s bed was rolled over to the sink, where his nurse and I hoisted his head to the edge, and he enjoyed a good, proper shampoo. Next week we are told we may expect a shower, in a special chair… we shall see!

These are the simple tasks of each day – what therapists call ADL’s, aka activities of daily living. Bathing in bed, grooming, dressing (they are gradually stretching his hamstrings out so that one day he will be able to sit up and lift his legs in order to put on his own pants), eating with the help of a simple band around his hand that allows him to hold a fork, and lately even a special contraption to practice a tentative scrawl with a pen. Even getting in and out of a wheelchair requires two nurses and a juggle of contraptions in the narrow space of his room – what Zephyr calls, “Papa flying!” Two days ago Steve was assigned a simple page of shapes to color in. Like the true artist that he is, he began to meticulously color a circle in a perfect orange, not a line out of place. Zephyr was of course immediately attracted to this particular activity, crawling into his lap to participate and making a fine mess out of Steve’s lovely handiwork! As you can imagine, even without other more specific therapies and education classes, the days fly by.

We have a host of relatives with us now, from Steve’s parents, to my mother from Holland, to Steve’s brother Mike and his family, to my brother David who flew in today from San Francisco. We are enjoying their wonderful company to the fullest!

Aidan and Jude continue to process, mostly in a non-verbal way, their ever-changing circumstances. It is painful for Steve to be unable to engage them physically, as this is the language of boys their age – wrestling, tickling, chasing them down for a hug and a kiss with a little teasing thrown in and the occasional voluntary cuddle between chasing and soccer and every other possible physical activity. Please pray for wisdom for us as we help them negotiate not just the changes in their beloved, playful Papa, but in their absence from their mama, their friends, and the Philippines, their home.

Today, I reflect on these words from the sermon on the mount: “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to to his span of life?… Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” The line that rings most clearly at this time is: “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” Watching Steve’s eyes shine tonight as he moved his toe, life was indeed so much more…

We are rejoicing today for a toe, and praying for an entire foot, fingers and more!

With love,
Michelle

From Michelle. 17 July, 2010 11 a.m.

Dear friends and family,

Please pray for Steve. He is unwell. The doctors think he has a urinary tract infection. He has been shivering violently under the blankets, and is now calm but covered with a thick layer, and cold. Steve will begin a cycle of antibiotics this morning.

He will rest today and tomorrow. We are hoping he will be better in time for therapy on Monday.

Thanks so much,
Michelle

From Michelle. 16 July, 2010 10 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

It has been one month and one day since the accident. I remember all too well the long seven hour drive down to Asheville, when each phone call brought worse and worse news. The past few days have been a welcome reversal of that trend, as tiny movements portend greater hopes. Even the smallest amount of mobility can make all the difference for Steve’s quality of life; a pointer and thumb with which to grip more effectively, and even more wondrously, a few leg muscles that might convert into some possible leg movement one day. We can only see as far as each moment, and accept these sweet movements as the gifts that they are in and of themselves. And tomorrow will bring what it brings. This morning, though, I was almost singing.

Today another thumb woke up a bit, and Steve felt his regular morning shot into the belly as ‘sharp’ (instead of ‘dull’) for the first time, a type of sensation (dull vs sharp) that may prove promising. For these additional increments of hope we are thankful!

We also have a prayer request. Steve has had a fever on and off all day today, and ended the day especially high. His nurses are here now (at 10pm) to wake him and take blood samples. Please pray for his good health.

We feel so richly cared for in so many ways. From the food in our freezer to the people watching our children to the many wonderful notes, and a few cherished visits, love abounds even here. Our faith stretches not only to our hopes for physical healing but to the many details that still lie ahead, from home care to insurance to the right school for our children. My time is scarce and lately I can only accomplish one or two major tasks in a day along those lines, but I know that God is walking ahead of me with sure feet, even when I am staggering. My verses today come from Psalm 91:14-15: “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him, I will protect him because he knows my name. When he calls to me I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble.”

A long time ago I spoke about how I had felt led to pray and reflect on Philippians 4:4-9 at the beginning of our trip. Today I was remembering the latter verses: “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” There is much that is beautiful growing in the cracks of Steve’s broken body. Mostly, it is love.

With thanksgiving,
Michelle

From Michelle.  15 July, 2010. 9:10am

Dear friends and family,

Just wanted you to know that Steve slightly moved his left pointer finger and right thumb today!  By slight, I mean just little wiggles.  This means some nerves are firing to those areas, and we cannot know how much.  Steve is simply asking for your continued prayer…  for fingers!

Love,
Michelle

From Michelle.  14 July, 2010  3:30 p.m.

Dear friends and family,

I can now write only in the few stolen moments between children and hospital, paperwork and phone calls.  What I thought before was an overwhelming amount of detail has grown exponentially with the arrival of the children.  It is not the time that they take that makes it so difficult to balance, it is my desire to love and shelter them through this trial, and my inability at times to do so.  I am so deeply torn when I see one cry because I am not coming home from the hospital, or because I am sending them off with someone else.  I long to be with them every minute and with Steve every minute and I cannot do both.  Steve and I miss each other now as much as we miss the kids.  Such is the life tread between hospital and home, trauma and hope.

It was so fun and encouraging to read Mike’s posting yesterday.  Steve has indeed come a long way, and to see his face flushed with joy at his new-found independence in the wheelchair was such a sweet sight.  At the same time, strangely,  a day full of good moments was also a difficult one for me.

As I look back on it, I think part of the difficulty lay in the very joy I witnessed.  It brought home for me, I think, the “new normal,” the fact that we are now so grateful for this little bit of independence, this incredibly small step.  Where, before, Steve ran and jumped and wrestled with his children and played the guitar without a thought, we are now jumping for joy that he is able to use hands and fingers that no longer work to awkwardly manipulate a wheelchair joy-stick.

There is something sweet in that new gladness and I am so grateful for the gratitude we both feel.  At the same time there was a renewed sense of loss for me.

A friend said he was woken up at 2 a.m. thinking of us and with a song in his head…

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning, new every morning, great is Thy faithfulness Oh Lord, great is Thy faithfulness!

On the way home from the hospital, I sang those lines over and over again, until I not only believed them but felt them deep down.  Zephyr fell sweetly asleep as I sang them over to the both of us.

One of the first things Steve said when a friend asked him about his experience, was that he was learning in a fresh way the meaning and importance of carrying each other’s burdens.   He cannot do anything for himself right now, from eating to rolling over in bed, to even relieving himself.  He is completely reliant on others.  But he did not say this in a self pitying sense.  Rather what he expressed was that he is truly being carried by others.  We both are.  And for that we are grateful, always.

Love,
Michelle

From Mike Ruetschle.  14 July, 2010

Last time I saw my brother was as he was on a stretcher being loaded into the ambulance for medical transport to Seattle … that was almost two weeks ago.  At that time Steve could not even sit up straight for 5 minutes without being in unbearable agony.  Hearing the reports of him sitting up for 5 and 6 hours seemed unfathomable to me given his state just a short while ago.  Like many of you I have been hanging on every post on the blog wondering how Steve was doing – and today I got to see for myself.

Bottom line is that I am awe of Steve’s progress over this short period of time.  When my wife and I walked into Harborview Steve was perched atop his new ride.  Today he was outfitted with an amazing electric wheelchair.  The chair has a joystick of sorts that allows him to move in all directions while guiding the chair with his right hand.  He showed me how he could move the vehicle in all directions with ease.  It was my first sight of my brother exercising independence and making decisions about where he wanted to go, and just going there.  What a beautiful site.

The wheelchair also has a feature that allows it to recline backward, a procedure that Steve is required to do every 15 minutes to reduce the risk of skin pressure points.  These are called “tilt backs” and I am learning are a critical part of the skin care regime.  Now Steve can do these independently while in his chair. The staples the sewed up his last surgery on his neck were removed today also.

Heather and I and my parents were able to join a class Steve was taking part in along with 3 other people suffering from quadriplegia / paraplegia.  The class was led by a recreational therapist who discussed opportunities on how to live a healthy and active lifestyle within the spheres of their disabilities.  There was a realism that I could feel in the room as all those suffering from paralysis were in various stages of grief over coming to terms with their new bodies.

For the first time (and expressing his new found independence with the wheel chair) Steve wanted us all to go outside with him.  The medical center has a nice outdoor terrace where we were greeted by the beautiful Washington sun and fresh air.  It was a party of sorts with friends and family gathered around and talking.  Aiden and Jude arrived and greeted their papa on his new machine.  The boys took turns riding on papa’s lap steering the machine, and going round and round the terrace.  Steve seemed happy to connect with the boys in this way that was outdoors, active, and fun – a much welcome reprieve from the sterile hospital environment.

Steve talked about wanting to take Michelle out on a date night to a nearby Thai restaurant, and we are floating the idea of taking Steve on his first outing to the nearby Sounders soccer game late next week.   While some of these ideas might be pushing it a little given that Steve is still suffering from a good deal of pain, his mind is clearly in a state of moving forward and making the most of his situation.  Just seeing Steve in regular clothes and sitting upright made him look so much more human and alive to me. So today was a good day for Steve, family and friends, and for me.  I felt a small lifting of grief for me personally because for the first time since the accident I could actually visualize what the new Steve might look like.

Mike Ruetschle