I’m so happy to see that you have waded your way through the mud of emotions, reactions, and maneuvers your body was relearning to feel like posting on the blog, Mike. I have to respond that most, if not all, of the medical folks in ICU were not only wonderful but exceptional. Not only that, most with whom I dealt including several of the respiratory therapists, kept telling us how cooperative you were and that they enjoyed working with you to help you recover. We often heard, "He's a good guy." During the last week or two of your hospital stay, several people enjoyed trading little jokes with you. They really got a kick out of your sense of humor.
Byron and I have just returned from a trip into Quebec City, across part of New Brunswick by train, then into Nova Scotia. Wow, what a treat! Although we had watched him make a lot of improvement, it was still difficult to tell Michael, "See ya in two weeks." Thanks to Robin we knew Mike was in good hands. Thanks, “Sis”.
It was wonderful to find you blister free and looking fantastic upon our return, brother. There was only one blister on your shoulder when we left. I was happy to learn that no more had bubbled up after that, and that the skin on your hand has become a little smoother. I keep seeing you back up to a door jamb to do your imitation of a bear scratching his back so it seems the itching will be part of life.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
A Father Responds
Oh…GerReasy. What have you done?
To answer my own question, you have probably pioneered a new genre, a specialty niche: the Medical Progress blog. Obviously such a record is valuable for the patient (so much is here I would never know about otherwise) but also so helpful--and easy--for friends and family who want to follow along.
Leave it to you to devise something so efficiently therapeutic…it’s amazing how you get so much done, yet remain spiritually grounded. Most “efficiency mavens” turn into automatons. I remember one from the hospital; she was one of the respiratory techs and one of the very few in BICU who was less than wonderful. At least as I recall…Maybe the rest of you guys, after being there hours and hours, ran into some stinkers--but I don’t remember them. Anyway, this lady was always lobbying for me to be restrained. I picked up on it the morning after one of my lucid nightmares, that one in which I “misplaced” about a thousand years of time. Later, one of my nurses explained this tech’s behavior and her penchant for restraining patients who rearrange their IVs or breathing tubs--no matter the reason…
Apparently she takes such behavior personally. That is, her displeasure wasn’t directed at me, personally. Instead, I believe, she resents any patient-related intrusion into *her* schedule. In other words, the point is that SHE makes her QUOTA of x-amount of procedures, rather than that x-amount of patients improve by y-amount of progress.
One time, in an elevator on campus, I heard a professor say, “Man, this would be a great life if it weren’t for all these damn students.”
Not you, though. No, dear heart…somehow you remain focused, whether working odd hours so you can keep up with hospital issues; or planning a theater event to honor a colleague; or juggling personal needs with rehearsal schedules…You’ve really managed to balance high-octane personal power with a strong-hearted, self-directed sense of ethics.
And I could not be more proud.
Thank you for this gift and all your hard work on my behalf.
Love,
Dad
To answer my own question, you have probably pioneered a new genre, a specialty niche: the Medical Progress blog. Obviously such a record is valuable for the patient (so much is here I would never know about otherwise) but also so helpful--and easy--for friends and family who want to follow along.
Leave it to you to devise something so efficiently therapeutic…it’s amazing how you get so much done, yet remain spiritually grounded. Most “efficiency mavens” turn into automatons. I remember one from the hospital; she was one of the respiratory techs and one of the very few in BICU who was less than wonderful. At least as I recall…Maybe the rest of you guys, after being there hours and hours, ran into some stinkers--but I don’t remember them. Anyway, this lady was always lobbying for me to be restrained. I picked up on it the morning after one of my lucid nightmares, that one in which I “misplaced” about a thousand years of time. Later, one of my nurses explained this tech’s behavior and her penchant for restraining patients who rearrange their IVs or breathing tubs--no matter the reason…
Apparently she takes such behavior personally. That is, her displeasure wasn’t directed at me, personally. Instead, I believe, she resents any patient-related intrusion into *her* schedule. In other words, the point is that SHE makes her QUOTA of x-amount of procedures, rather than that x-amount of patients improve by y-amount of progress.
One time, in an elevator on campus, I heard a professor say, “Man, this would be a great life if it weren’t for all these damn students.”
Not you, though. No, dear heart…somehow you remain focused, whether working odd hours so you can keep up with hospital issues; or planning a theater event to honor a colleague; or juggling personal needs with rehearsal schedules…You’ve really managed to balance high-octane personal power with a strong-hearted, self-directed sense of ethics.
And I could not be more proud.
Thank you for this gift and all your hard work on my behalf.
Love,
Dad
Monday, September 1, 2008
The cat came back...
Just a little photographic evidence that we're not imagining things. Dad's truly up and at 'em. Despite the fact that he calls himself "Two-Tone Man," you can see that he looks damn good. His left hand around my shoulder is the "meltiest" part of him. And look how great it looks! You can't see his arm, shoulders, or back, but believe me, even though they show you the breadth of his burns, to see them now, you cannot guess at their inital depth. Skin is an amazing organ. Have I mentioned lately how amazed I am at the human body? Well, I am.
This was taken last night, when Asia and Dad came by Mom's (Liz's) to pick me up so we could go out to dinner. (Forrest is taking a little Labor Day weekend trip down to the Valley.) We talked about a bunch of little stuff. Chit-chatted. We didn't talk much about any of the "fire business." There was a little, but not much. I think we'll be dealing with the fallout for months to come, but it's nice to see that already, we're able to have conversations about things beyond it.
I flew in from Denver on Friday, and today, I leave for Paris with Mom for the week. There was a time when I couldn't imagine this trip (planned since March) actually happening. But here I go! With Dad looking as good as you can see here, I am so excited to head across the pond and get some more perspective on this great big world we live in. I'll tell you what, though. I will be ready to stay in Denver for a little while after this. And Lee's looking forward to having his wife stay put for a while, too. He's been so, so wonderful through all of this.
Funny that Dad's accident is sort of book-ended by travel abroad -- first Forrest's trip to Italy, and now mine to France and soon, Dixie and Byron will take a trip of their own to Nova Scotia. You'd think we were some kind of jet-setting family, which may be true for some of us, but at thirty-two, this is my very first time off the continent.
Let's see what we can see....
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