Something to say “Thanks” about

On Friday I got to see Mary for the first time in a week. It’s difficult to describe how much of a relief it was to be with her. Last week was difficult for me, to say the least. I decided to go back to work. I mean, what else was I going to do, anyway? It’s not like I could visit with her.

Being alone at the lake usually doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve always the type of person who values quiet time alone, especially after a hard day at work answering phones and questions all day long, but this was different. Now, the silence of the condo was amplified as the minutes crept by. No screams from John or coos and cries from Amelia were there to break up my ruminations on what was to come. I was alone with my thoughts, worries, and fears.

By far, the hardest day for me was on Tuesday, a week after the accident. I would say it was even worse than chasing her around mid-Missouri on her way to Columbia for treatment on the day of the catastrophe. It took about this long for the full extent of her injuries to finally come into focus. Prior to this, every time I would talk to a physician or nurse, I would learn of some new issue or problem that had either previously not been disclosed or was newly discovered. It had gotten to the point that I dreaded calling the hospital for an update. I was out of capacity for bad news.

It was on this day as well that I was dealing with car-insurance issues. I sent my parents to the junkyard to clean out the valuables from Mary’s car. My mom took a slew of disturbing images showing the aftermath of the wreck. This was the first time I had seen the car, and though it wasn’t far off what I had imagined, it still took my breath away. The Honda CR-V, (Mary’s first “big girl” purchase, as she would call it), was nearly unrecognizable. The tree had totally obliterated the passenger side of the vehicle.The dashboard seemed to pivot from a point just in front of the steering wheel. It was as though the center console peeled back the dash from the right to clear a path for the unyielding tree.

Mary was saved by this odd maneuver, which twisted her steering wheel toward the driver’s window rather than pushing it into her chest. Even at this, there was no room left for a larger person. In many ways, she’s lucky she didn’t suffer even more injuries. However, I’m not sure that one can consider any of this lucky. I know people tend to say that “things happen for a reason,” and that we should “be thankful she is alive.” Don’t get me wrong, I am overjoyed she survived, but nothing about this seems particularly “lucky” to me. Its terrible this happened. But here we are, with nothing to do but make the best of it going forward.

Tuesday was also Mary’s first day fully awake all day long. This was also heavy on my mind as I tried to distract myself at work. I hated that she was laying up there alone without any familiar faces, confused and in pain. I got phone calls from her physicians and therapists that made her mental condition seem really poor. I got access to read over her medical record which made things seem even worse. All of this piled on me to make me feel hopeless and lost.

It wasn’t until Thursday evening when Mary’s parents and I got to talk to Mary via Zoom. She had just woken up from a nap and clearly wasn’t feeling well or alert, but we could tell it was Mary we were talking to. It really was encouraging, even though we would have loved to have been able to have a longer conversation with her.

Last week, when I got the news that University of Missouri Hospital was banning all visitors, I put in a formal complaint. I argued against their faulty logic and inhumane policy to the best of my ability, but they weren’t giving. After several minutes of asking questions that “Kevin” from Patient Experience could not answer, I finally got a small concession; once Mary woke up, I could visit her one time. Clearly, this was better than nothing, but the limitation was also cruel . I decided that Friday would be the day I would use my one visit.

Friday also ended up being the day that they transferred Mary out of the ICU (without telling me), so I visited her on one of the surgical floors down the hall from the ICU room in which she spent a week and a half. Despite “not being on the list” of approved visitors at the front desk, I made my way up to the 7^th floor at about 5pm on Friday. The halls were eerily quiet except for a couple of resident physicians cracking insensitive jokes about their colleagues and patients.

When I made it to her room, Mary was accompanied by a 24/7 sitter, whose presence definitely made the visit more awkward. However, she instantly recognized me, and we had a good conversation for a few minutes. Despite thinking it is June, she remembers both John and Amelia, which was a huge relief to me. She was moving around in bed pretty well, but it was clear she was still in quite a bit of pain.

After a few minutes, her head started hurting pretty badly and she started to get more confused. Some Tylenol and a short nap helped improve this. When dinner came, I was impressed with her ability to feed herself with only her left hand (she is normally right-hand dominate). She even opened a pudding container by herself!

As I was collecting myself to leave after my time allotment was over, I asked Mary if she wanted me to bring her anything from home. She said, “something to make me look pretty.”  Classic Mary. Of course, I told her she already looked beautiful. And she did! Her hair, in French braids over both ears, highlighted her naturally beautiful eyes and smile. Given the cuts, bruises, and breaks along the rest of her body, including inside her skull, the fact that her face remained unharmed was remarkable.

In order to fulfill her request, I brought her some lip gloss today. I figured it was something simple and easy she could do one handed without having to do too much concentrating or makeup removal later. I also brought up her phone, and to my surprise, she was able to use it! Hopefully having access to pictures of John and Amelia will keep her in good spirits and give her something to live for. Shortly after I dropped it off, I received my first text message from her since about 2 hours before the accident. Even though her messages are a little garbled at times, it was wonderful to see. It’s the first thing that has really given me hope.

As far as an update to her general condition, here is a list:

After a few days of good news, I’m wanting to feel hopeful, but knowing I won’t be with her for Thanksgiving is hard. At this point, I can be thankful that things are not as bad as they could be, and that at least I once again have a direct line of communication with her, when she can use it.

I know many of you are probably excited to speak with Mary directly. Even though she has access to her phone, please try not to overwhelm her. She can really only use her left hand right now and does still get confused and agitated at times, so it’s best to let her take it at her own pace. If you want to send her a card or gift, reach out to me for her room number.

Thanks for reading and your continued prayers.