Eight weeks is a long time. It's a long time to be lying in a hospital
bed. It's a long time to be alone all night long with just uncertain
thoughts of the future to keep you company. It's a long time to be
poked and prodded and cared for by strangers who soon become friends,
but somehow they are friends you kind of wish you'd never met given the
circumstances. It's a long time for a spouse to go home to an empty
house every night after being by your side for long days. It's a long
time for daughters to miss and worry and wonder about their Daddy. It's
a long time for grandkids who say, "See Bepa?" every time their Mom
leaves the house, even if it's just to go for a run. Eight weeks is a long
time.
I know there are families that experience this reality for much more
than eight weeks. I know it's possible that we might find ourselves there
again sometime in the future. But for now, in this very moment, we are
all just so thankful that those eight weeks are over. Right now, I'm so
thankful that when I think about my Dad tonight, I am picturing him
sitting in his recliner in his own house with my Mom close
by...listening to the same claps of thunder that are shaking my walls
and seeing the same lightning light up the same sky. I think I can
finally allow the image of him lying in his hospital bed at rehab, watching a
TV that doesn't even have ESPN and chatting with the occasional nurse
that pops in to slowly fade from my mind.
My Dad came home last night. After two weeks of pain and fear at
Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center that included an embolism, a major
surgery to repair his collapsed spine and remove the tumor that caused
it, acute paralysis from his waist down (I will never forget the moment
his surgeon discovered this paralysis as I was in the room alone with
him) leading to a rushed emergency surgery followed by six weeks of
grueling physical and occupational therapy at HealthSouth...My Dad is
finally home!
My mom and I spent Tuesday afternoon with him packing up his room,
watching his final therapy session and saying goodbyes to his therapists
and nurses (all of whom were really sad to see my Dad go). The
anticipation was palpable. We all breathed a big sigh of
relief as we pulled into their little driveway in the village.
This journey is not over. A long road is ahead as my Dad battles this
disease that is plaguing his body, while continuing to try and gain
strength and mobility as he recovers from this spinal cord injury. The
incredible support of family, friends and the greater community has
given us hope. The kind words, the prayers, the financial
contributions, the fundraisers and the amazing generosity of local
businesses and carpenters and neighbors...
God has been so faithful and I
know He will continue to be.
Preparing a Welcome Home sign for Dad's return before I headed down to Concord!
Dad's window by his bed at HealthSouth...
Working hard in therapy...
Saying goodbye to his occupational therapist...these two spent a lot of time together!
Final meeting with our case manager - she was great!
Dad spent almost two hours a day with his physical therapist. He is a former marine and worked my Dad hard, but they had such a great relationship and I think I might have seen a tear in his eye when he said goodbye to my Dad.
Mom learning to flush the pic line - she's a nurse now!
Our last photo together at rehab!
Heading out to the car!
Pulling into the driveway!
The welcoming committee...
Dad's going to enjoy sitting on his own front porch again!
The boys helping get Bepa's wheelchair setup...
Thank you RP Johnson's and Jack for the new ramp!
Micah likes the balloons...
Mom putting Dad's wedding ring back on his finger for the first time since he had to take it off 8 weeks ago at DHMC. It was a pretty cute moment!
Welcome home, Daddy. I think you are right where you need to be.
