Brandon is home. After three weeks he is home. And as much as I fight it, I get to play nurse. No, not like that- I mean actually be his at-home nurse. I have to give him his anti-clotting medications through a daily injection, use a syringe to flush his pic-line and then hook him up to his antibody drip line. I put on plastic gloves and change bandages. I empty the excess blood out of his drain and even handle a bedpan as he has to stay put with his leg continually raised above heart level. I don't mind now, but the thought of injections and pic lines terrified me to the point of shaky hands and betraying tears.
Brandon is home. On Wednesday's inspection, they decided to postpone Friday's surgery as the graft was showing signs of health and improvement. We decided that it was worth a chance, besides, if....no....when....we amputate, it will be at least a month-long recovery in the hospital and just the thought of him home was worth it. I missed him. Just having him in the bedroom has returned some normalcy to our lives, the kids are themselves again, all seems right in their little worlds. So if I have to put on my brave face and big girl pants to use a needle and gloves, then so be it. Having him home it worth it all.
Starting on Monday we have a home health nurse coming to address needs that I have not been trained for-not that I have been trained at all outside of my husband's skillful hospital observations and the directions that came with the medications, apparently, I cannot hurt him with this? (and for those following the saga and paying attention to detail rest easy, we have a DIFFERENT service coming to our aide than the previous neglectful one)
Call me pessimistic for believing that this long road is not over. Brandon will not be able to walk for 6 months. AS of now, getting up and taking himself to the restroom is an impossible feat. IN sickness and in health reverberates within my mind. But I just know, we both know, that this is the beginning of a long road. Don't judge me yet. I have full faith in the healing powers of my God. But my spirit quietly tells me to brace myself. I have learned over the years to trust that quiet inner voice. I see a long couple of years ahead. We have both kind of agreed when we choose to discuss it, that a prosthetic is the best way to go. A wheelchair is no life for a young active man like Brandon. We feel as though the pain of walking on a bacterial eaten foot is not worth keeping a foot. But a prosthesis would be a path with physical therapy and phantom pains, so that journey is not fantasized as being easy also.
But for now. He is home. And that is all that matters. Just the support of relaxing against him while catching up on our regular (recently interrupted by life) television broadcasts was worth it. Hearing his gentle breathing while sleeping next to him in bed last night seemed to take mountains from my shoulders last night. It won't be easy, but at least we are together.
And so, the question that many have asked and are asking: What can we do? Please, don't hear this wrong. We love you, we appreciate you. Your love and support, prayers and visits have been an incredible encouragement and help these past two months. But for now, this weekend at least. We ask for nothing. No phone calls. No visits. No meals. Just time for our family to revel in the moment of being together, albeit in jammies and Saturday morning cartoons. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and I PROMISE, I will ask if...when we need anything.
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