It has been a week of "Ordinary Miracles"...the very best kind.
I don't know that we should call anything Hillary does an ordinary miracle. We heard over and over again this week just how extraordinary a miracle she really is considering the enormity of the trauma she has survived. But it truly isthe everyday ordinary miracles that mean the most to us as we watch Hillary robustly embracing life again. And as you can imagine my eyes are swollen from so many happy moments as the beautiful and unforgettable ordinary miracles unfolded.
As with everyone who heads out of town for a couple of days, there were last minute things to complete before Hillary and I hit the road for our long awaited girl trip; not the least of these was the Botox injection planned for her left arm. Sammie had taken her to her appointment with Dr. Rommelman, while I completed other tasks for work. Of course, I called to see how things had gone when Sammie said, “It was awful! Don’t ever make me go through that again.” My heart dropped fearing something had gone badly with the injection; perhaps an allergic reaction or who knows what. But Sammie went on to explain Hillary began crying and ultimately sobbing during the injection. And she had not stopped now--over forty minutes later. My first response was, “Real tears?!?!?” Sammie said, “Buckets full and they are rolling down her cheeks even now.” (I thought “ZOOM ZOOM!”) As I spoke with Hillary on the phone she was undeniably bawling and it was truly the most bittersweet experience of my life. How long we had waited to see that emotion in our injured angel. As I held her on the phone we called the whole family so they could hear this ordinary (extraordinary) miracle. When she arrived I hugged and kissed her as she began crying again and this time telling everything she had bottled up inside her soul. She sobbed about being in a wheelchair, not having her son, missing her independence and much more. It was truly like the flood gates had opened and it all came out. She was somewhat puzzled by my deeply sympathetic smile and joyful embraces but in the end she “got it” that her brain is continuously rebuilding its circuitry and it had finally connected the emotion every one needs of tears. In nearly nine months Hillary had endured some the worst kind of pain any human could endure…both physical pain and emotional pain. And yet her injury had prevented the greatest defense mechanism we can have for such pain……tears. As my friend John says, “Big exhale.”
Early that evening these two travelers finally headed out on our journey with no absolute destination for the night. I had been running around like a crazy person all day and Paul just looked at Hillary with his calming smile and said, “Honey….please take care of your mother.” She said, “Oh…I thought you were going to say you wanted her to take care of me.” She promised to try her best (surely knowing it wasn’t going to be easy), but in the end as we headed out of the driveway she yelled, “We’ll take care of each other!” ZOOM ZOOM!
We wanted to get down the road so we could be closer to Max’s 10 AM (EDT) performance, but with our early evening departure we weren’t sure just how far we could make it. We decided a fix at McDonald’s before hitting the interstate would be a first start at taking care of each other. As we made our way through the drive through, we looked back over our shoulder and saw our friend Gretchen a few cars back. When she pulled up beside our car Gretchen and I said, “%#$@ these fries…it’s all Hillary’s fault!” There is no telling how many of Hillary’s friends are hooked again on McDonald’s fries from their time with our girl. Miles later, Paula Keally called and suggested the slight detour to Lexington and an opportunity to return to my second home, might be great reprieve for the night and fairly easy access on to Northern Kentucky the next morning. Guy had my drink of choice waiting when we arrived and Paula took our girl in her arms and we were really home. Hillary couldn’t believe I had lived there so many weeks while she began her earliest rehab at Cardinal Hill. And Paula couldn’t believe her eyes and ears when she saw Hillary.
The trip had been exhausting and it was much past Hillary’s bedtime (though she insisted she wasn’t sleepy). I soon remembered the number of Diet Coke’s Hillary had consumed on our way and realized my mistake. When I checked on her a little later I found her wide awake and perhaps even a little frightened. She said, “Mom, I really am not sure exactly where we are when you aren’t in here. I have been trying to sleep and in the darkness I don’t recognize any of my own things.” As I prompted her with a couple of questions she remembered where we were and why. I felt so guilty realizing how she must have felt in light of her challenges with amnesia. And then the word “orientation” spoken so many times by her physicians and therapists began resonating in my mind. I began worrying about the rest of our days knowing we had two more enormously long road trips left to go.
She awoke with her usual pleasantness and I gave another big exhale, but I could clearly see the toll our miles had taken on her. She was so tired. We arrived at Max’s school in scheduled time and Alex had decided to drive up from Louisville to be with us, as well. Drs. Nicholas and Rommelman had reminded us of the extreme stimulation Hillary would endure as she began trying to process so many unrecognizable faces in a crowd of people she’s never seen and in an unfamiliar place. He had stated her own church visits were going to need to be handled with great care because she is still working through the process of recognizing the people she has known for many years. The one face she absolutely recognized was Max’s as she always has. And as her son pointed his fingers straight to his mother in a song of love, we knew even if it was a moment she forgets, Alex and I pledge to never stop helping her remember. We were careful to give her a quick chance to say “Thank you” to Max’s teachers and others, and though she was entirely too tired to walk into Max’s classroom as she had hoped, she did address his classmates with heartfelt appreciation. As she finished she hit the arm of her wheelchair and said, “Wear your seatbelt!” God love that sweet woman. (And as Hillary would say, “He does!”)
And then we were off to our next planned leg of our trip: a visit with the staff of Cardinal Hill Rehab. Of course Hillary felt it was important for a little something like McDonald’s fries and nuggets and I just couldn’t disagree with her feeling on fries. As we made our way back to Lexington she began to slip deeper into exhaustion. Though I had called Cardinal Hill’s nurses station to postpone, we were forging on; hearing we might miss some of our friends there if we delayed. I looked at Hillary’s tired sweet eyes and face and thought, “What kind of mother am I and what was I thinking about this trip?” I felt so guilty in being caught up in the hopes Max had for this day and the promise Hillary wanted to fulfill for her son. I should have managed both their expectations better.
As we hit Lexington it was me who finally said, “Would you like something to eat?” thinking it might revive her. She said, “How about a Diet Coke?” “UGH”, I thought but inwardly weighing my options and finally turning into McDonalds. As we approached the window the woman gave us her drink and then a sack. I said, “We didn’t order anything else.” She said, “No chicken nuggets?” And Hillary and I began laughing. The woman tried to give them to us anyway as it had been her mistake, but surprisingly enough, Hillary was not interested in this Chicken McNugget “manna from Heaven” opportunity.
We arrived at Cardinal Hill and I began asking her if she recognized anything. Of course she didn’t, but I certainly did as I revisited so many places and times in my mind. We made our way to the brain injury unit and soon it was like being back in my college sorority when someone was “pinned” or engaged. It truly was another homecoming and Hillary enjoyed every moment of it. So did the rest of us. Nicole wanted her to keep talking, Jen wanted her to keep walking and Emily was so happy to see her life in her left arm and the many other things she could do with “normal” living. The excitement and energy (and volume) in that unit was not very “brain injury friendly” but even the patients seemed encouraged by Hillary. I could remember the moments I wanted Hillary to be as far along or as “well” as another patient might have been in the hallway or on the exercise mat. It seemed years away at the time and here we are eight plus months later with Hillary’s first Physiatrist, Dr. Walters saying, “She is 180 degrees from where she was when she left. She’s going to have it all back.” He went on to say, “Hillary, you just made my week.” (ZOOM ZOOM!)
We also had the opportunity to visit with a young pregnant mother from our area that is fighting through the challenges of an accident much like Hillary’s. As we entered her room I began speaking to beautiful Stefanie. I was overwhelmed by the similarity of her injury to Hillary’s injury and “look”. Though she did not appear to respond a great deal to me, when Hillary began speaking in almost “peer to peer” fashion, this sweet girl began trying to turn her attention to Hillary. Hillary said, “It is going to be so hard and you have a long road ahead of you but you will make it. I did. We are praying for you every day.” And then something seemed to literally smack Hillary in the face and she began leaving the room as I continued my visit with Stefanie. God love our friend Norita because she was right there to begin planning the Cardinal Hill reunion on our old houseboat and Hillary began to “breathe well” again. It must have hit so deeply to see exactly how far she had come herself; having dealt with her own issues surrounding her child while facing such overwhelming injuries. Though it is certainly not the exact same situation, the mothers have so much in common. And your baby is your baby….period! We pray for the day they might return to Lexington (and Vanderbilt together) to let their own children say “Thank you for their mother’s lives.
When we arrived at Paula’s we sat out on the veranda and tried to relax away our exhaustion. We were both too far gone and eventually both of us agreed to power nap. Thank goodness we did because the evening would unfold with even more ordinary miracles. Once up from our naps Hillary, Paula and I began looking for possible CDs to prompt Hillary’s beautiful singing voice back into action. We decided on Allison Krauss and just as the first song began its sweet soft melody with words of old friendship, the doorbell rang. Hillary was determined to walk to the door and open it for her guests. Though they had to wait a bit, she made it and it all became too much for me in the end. I was crying like a baby and it was those girls, the music and the Keally’s with their open hearts and loving home for us. Life with its ordinary miracles is such a blessing and I was profoundly aware of how much I didn’t deserve it but was so grateful for it.
Soon “Little Paducah” in Lexington was on Paula and Guys’ deck. Jimmie Patmore and Jane Adams joined some of Hillary’s best girlfriends (and their guys) and it was wonderful to watch from the sidelines.
Once the evening was over, Paula and I began assisting Hillary as she tried to prepare for bed. She was utterly and completely exhausted. Paula insisted I soak in a tub while she and Hillary wound down from the excitement of the evening; knowing Hillary’s state of exhaustion might impact her clarity of memory to her surroundings for the night. When I returned those two sweet women were just quietly lying beside each other in the bed…face to face…solving the world’s problems like any other girlfriends who need to talk about life and love and how to deal with children and all the rest. It was just another ordinary miracle but beautiful in every way.
Entirely too early for me, Hillary awoke and remembered we were going to get Max. As we both put on our makeup and casually dressed ourselves for the long day, we said good-bye to the Keally’s and hit the road to take Max home early from his last day of school in Northern KY. I was so glad the elementary school staff had been able to see and talk with Hillary because it obviously made them feel so much better for Max and the future. There were so many well wishes and words of blessings as each one reminded him to visit when he was in the area. As we left the parking lot Max screamed out the window his own “Goodbyes” and we reminded him of the important friendships he has made in the most difficult of circumstances. After making our way for a couple of additional “Thank yous” and “Good-byes”, we hit the road for home. And as though a magic wand hit the top of our car, the exhaustion she had exhibited for three days soon seemed to disappear and Hillary went into “fully loaded Hillary” mode. Our only explanation is that in some way Hillary must have felt the new sense of things and the freedom our drive with Max seemed to represent. It didn’t feel like an ordinary miracle when she practiced problem solving on the way home; or when she read an eight grade reading book like it was a first grade “See Spot run” type primer. When she named all the planets, slipping only on Saturn as she named it something between that and Satan, I wonder how many of us could actually pass the tests of random knowledge and take the physical pain of therapy and, yes, withstand the lack of respect and rights that has been thrust on this woman to prove herself worthy of her son. (By the way, don’t be embarrassed. I thought Pluto was a planet, too.)
When we arrived home, the phone was ringing and it was our 10 North Trauma Center Family Waiting Room best friends from West Tennessee. Joyce had once again been thinking of Hillary and I had been thinking of Wes. We caught up on Wes’s amazing progress from a second traumatic brain injury, heard all about Angela and Joyce’s retirement from restaurant life and planned to meet soon. Joyce spoke to Hillary for some time and it was so wonderful to reconnect. When I hung up the phone Hillary had a look on her face that was so sweet and fun and it was obvious from her expression she was having an “Ah ha” moment. She said, “I understand why if I’m referring to myself I shouldn’t say “girl”. I’m a woman!” Dr. Nicholas says every person who experiences head trauma and begins a successful recovery gets to grow up all over again. We think she has grown up to one of the most wonderful women we’ve ever known. I think Hillary—Part One—would have been honored to have been considered a friend of Hillary—Part Deux. In fact, this “new” woman must have been blessed in ways that is going to be difficult for me to describe. It does not matter what you look like on the outside for Hillary. She in some way sees what is on the inside of us; finding those who have kindness and goodness of spirit as handsome or beautiful. But oddly enough, someone she may have found attractive in the past, or maybe another who she had as a distant relationship with that was perhaps less than a kind spirited soul, is no longer attractive to her. It’s crazy but as Paula says, “It’s like she can see right through you.” Maybe it is in some way like a child who isn’t clouded by the rest of life’s circumstances. Whatever it is, the experience is amazing to watch….and so is the journey.
Brittany just walked into our bedroom and said, “You guys she is AMAZING! It’s my sister in there. Complete with her smile and her expressions.” I won’t deceive you; Hillary is still not completely recovered—physically or mentally. In no way could she go dancing yet or run or handle a million voices at once or a load of questions from any of us in a less than peaceful environment. I’m not sure she could handle a loud and fast paced movie yet. But something became so different in her when we arrived home early last evening that I got down on my knees in front of her and right there in our living room I had to thank God humbly for what just seemed to happen to her within hours. I realized I was thanking God for new clarity and newly improved voice inflection and the way she was joking and so many more new miracles…the ordinary ones we had no doubt taken for granted prior to September 1st
Max presented us with his own miracle last night when I brought in his mom’s pillow from our trip. He caressed it and smelled it and then completely captured it; refusing to release his tight grip and give it up. I said, “Oh Honey, I’m so afraid Mom won’t sleep well without it tonight. She’s just so tired from our trip and it’s a big weekend coming.” He said, “Please, please, No! It smells like her and I want to sleep with it.” I offered another one to him stating we could take the pillowcase off hers and encase an exact duplicate pillow with it. He refused that idea graciously but with fortitude. When Hillary heard our dilemma she said, “Aaaww. Let him use it. That’s so sweet. And then I’ll have his scent on it for me as well.” Max put himself to bed and was asleep in no more than four or five minutes. Now that was not an ordinary miracle…that one was extraordinary!
We hope you have a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend with your family. We feel great about ours learning new ways this week to work around the challenges for Max and for Hillary as they begin surely spending long blocks of time together with school out. And we’ve found a few additional “must haves” as well. All of us discovered it was way past time for Max to stop worrying he was going to hurt his mom with his hugs and get back to “Coltharp style hugging.” We all feel better with that part of our lives finally back to normal!
XOXOX
--Shawn
PS--You may want to see our ordinary miracles in "real life" on her video tab
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