God is Good

I’m having a tough time keeping up with life these days. I will try to start posting more frequently, so you guys don’t have to wade through my own personal versions of War and Peace.

Among other things, one extremely important duty I have while all this is going on is to make sure my wife has a family to come home to. Rachael had a little mini-implosion the other day. It started with a simple argument with her sister and ballooned up into the actual root of the problem. She had been nasty to her sister all day, so I sent her to bed early and told her she had 5 minutes to figure out a good reason why it was ok for her to be mean to her sister.

I waited for 4 minutes, figuring I’d have to wait for her to quit crying to get her to calm down.

I walked in, she was sitting on the bed, crying, and a little panicky. She argued with me that she hadn’t had enough time to come up with a reason.

I gave her that extra minute.

I sat in silence. She sobbed and watched the clock.

When it was time, her teary, runny-nosed response was, “Dad, I’m sorry. I just want this to be over and to have mom home. I’m done.”

She waited unsure as to how I’d react.

I told her that that was the best response to that question ever and gave her a big hug.

We both sat there and sobbed a little. I held her and rocked back and forth. I told her that we all wanted that more than anything, and we’ll get that soon. I PROMISED her we’d get that soon. But, in the meantime she couldn’t take things out on her sister or her brother or her grandma.

I told her that when she was feeling like that, it’s ok to talk about it instead of just being angry and treating the people she loves badly.

I wanted her to come up with the answer. Yes, I know she’s 8, but she’s a very smart 8. If I let her answer with her standard, “I don’t know” we would’ve had a repeat performance. I told her that it’s healthy to talk and to cry and to get things off her chest.

I asked her the following:

“Who’s the strongest woman you know?” Mom.

“Who’s getting better every day?” Mom.

“Who has His hands around us and is protecting our family daily?” God.

“Who is going to keep our family together?” God.

She didn’t pause on any of those answers. This is Anissa’s amazing little “mini-me” and she’s raised her right.

Earlier in the evening, I told Anissa that Rachael was having problems. I had asked her if I should deal with it hard or soft. Anissa told me to go soft because she’s been through so much.

I now know I’m going to get my family back. I’m positive of that. It’s like I can see it through the Macy’s store window. It’s got a big price tag that I can’t quite afford yet, but it’s something I can work toward. It won’t be the same as it was, but, that’s kinda what life changing events do.

For the past few weeks, Anissa’s been working on the assumption of a 5 step program: Wake up. Get out of hospital. Get out of nursing home. Get out of rehab facility. Get home.

So, let me tell you guys about step 4.

Actually, before I do that, let me back up a bit first and make a somewhat controversial statement.

You all know we’ve been down the pediatric cancer road already. Well, going through pediatric cancer at All Children’s and now CHOA, is like going through hell in a Cadillac. It’s no fun, but they do their best to help you along the way and to make you as comfortable as they can, from the top down, at every level of the respective organizations and in as many aspects as possible. It’s filled with people who aren’t just doing a job, instead they have careers, and, most importantly, they care.

Another thing about pediatric cancer is that the kids know they are sick, but they have no pre-conceived notions as to the possible outcomes. If you tell an adult they have cancer, they understand that it’s a grim situation. If you tell a kid they have cancer, they still want to be a kid.

As soon as I walked in to tour what would become Anissa’s new rehab facility, I was at peace. In truth, I didn’t need to see all of the facility, I just needed to feel the energy that exudes from this place and their staff. I toured it anyway. It’s flippin awesome. It’s a team that will let me take my hands off the wheel (and maybe get some sleep) for a little bit, because they absolutely care.

It gives hope. It’s Disney for recovery.

And her therapy team, we’ll call them, Ariel (ST), Belle (OT), and, Jasmine (PT), is EXACTLY who she needs right now.

Why?

Because Anissa is starting to progress at an impressive speed.

She’s now officially on normal liquids and ground foods. She’s starting to get around pretty decently in a wheel chair. She’s learning new ways to do normal things. She’s stood. She actually walked the other day. It was with a lot of help, and she had to throw her right leg in front of her, but she still walked. They are working her extremely hard, and she’s responding, very well.

Remember when I said there were holes in her memory you could drive an Oldsmobile through? She’s quickly connecting the dots and filling those holes. We’re down to holes you could ride a bike through, and that is shrinking.  I’m starting to ask her parenting questions. We’re joking about things and goofing off. We’re wading through pictures and she’s telling us about them.

She does get tired, and when that happens, she’s not as sharp. But that’s to be expected.

There hasn’t been a whole lot of purposeful movement on her right side yet, and I’m starting to get worried about that. Physically/mechanically there’s nothing wrong. We’ve just got to figure out how to get her mind to tell her leg and arm to move again. You can feel her trying at times, and at other times, not so much.

By my count, there have been several God granted miracles on this journey: The fact that she lived, the fact that she’s cognitive enough to be a mom again, and soon, the fact that so many have come together around the world to help my family in this. Is it wrong to ask for one more? Is it wrong to ask that her right leg and arm start to gain some purposeful movement? God being infinite, I don’t think it is. I’ll take her cognition level over movement any day of the week, but I keep going back to the “Things will work out” response that I got when I prayed about this way back when. I have faith that, in the coming days, something big will happen and she’ll start moving that right side again.

Today is my son’s 12th birthday. We’re going to spend it together up in the rehab facility. I’ve reserved a room for us to celebrate, and the gifts have been wrapped. On February 1 it’s Anissa’s birthday. I’ve already got something big planned for that, and it heavily involves Ariel, Belle, and Jasmine.  We’re in the “sweet spot” of our year, family celebration-wise:  Nathaniel, mom, me, anniversary.  If that special gift were coming, now is definitely the time.

I’m praying for it and giving thanks for how far we’ve come daily.