Stability For Our Time

First, I apologize to those of you who have been following Luke's story here that can't access Facebook. I admit that possibility never crossed my mind, so while I kept updating the Facebook page, I haven't done anything here. I have a really good excuse though:

LUKE IS HOME!

When I posted last, Luke was off the vent and being considered for Long Tern Acute Critical Care because they thought he wasn't strong enough or well enough for rehab at Patricia Neal. Well, when God works a miracle, he doesn't go half way. Shortly after I wrote the last entry, Luke's respiratory therapist decided to try capping the trach tube to see how well Luke could breathe through his mouth and nose. They expected him to go for 30 minutes to an hour before needing to go back on the trach collar. Eight hours later, when it was about time to go to bed, Luke indicated that he was feeling a little short of breath, and asked for the cap to be pulled for the night. While the cap was off, he talked to us, and let us know that his mind was intact for the most part, although with all of the drugs, it was hard to assess just how much damage there was, if any.

The next day, they capped his trach again and allowed him to breathe in supplemental oxygen through a nasal cannula as needed. He never went back on the trach again. That afternoon, he saw a physical therapist for the first time. I helped with the evaluation. Luke was able to respond to all commands, and while he was very weak, he was able to sit on the side of his bed for ten minutes, working with the therapist. He required significant support, but he was working for the entire rime. After 30 minutes of therapy, the PT looked at me and said "This young man is ready for Patrica Neal!"

I did not cry; I just got a little sweat in my eye.

The Pat Neal rep was a little bit more realistic, and told us that while Luke was too strong for LTACC, he wasn't quite ready for full rehab yet, so they decided to move him to a regular room to get him out of the ICU and let him start gaining some strength. On July 3rd, Luke moved to the 10th floor. His meds were reduced, and he was allowed to have ice chips. We managed to get one popsicle for him, but they didn't want him to take in anything by mouth until they pulled the trach tube. After three days in the room, he was ready to transfer, but there were delays in getting all the doctors and therapists there to sign off on his release and it wasn't until July 9 that he made the transfer to Patricia Neal. At that time, he was cleared to eat solid food, and had his trach tube removed.

During the six days he was on the 10th floor, Luke ws visited by his nurses and a couple of the doctors. They all wanted to see the young man they had worked so hard and long for. Working in a trauma ICU is extremely difficult. The doctors and nurses have to give their patients the best care possible, all the while realizing that most everybody there is facing some pretty long odds. I can't imagine having to go into work each day knowing that the young man or woman that you've been working on so hard is liable to die. Their ability to maintain their focus and their intensity, and their ability to invest a little piece of themselves into each patient they care for is nothing short of heroic. That's why it comes as no surprise that when they have a patient who defies the odds, who not only survives, but recovers fully, and rapidly, they want to celebrate with the patient and the family. They are a part of our family now, and even though Luke doesn't really know them, we will go back and introduce him to the heroes that worked with energy, intelligence and a large helping of prayer and faith to save his life.

Luke went to Patricia Neal on Friday. Saturday morning, they did an assessment. Monday, he met his doctor and began rehab. They asked him to walk 15 steps. He walked 80. On Tuesday, he asked what he had to do to go home by the weekend. The doctor told him to work hard during his therapy sessions, and that it was a realistic goal. On Thursday, he came home!

On June 13th, they told us he was hours from death. On June 20th, they told us he would be in the ICU for weeks, the hospital even longer, then months of inpatient rehab. By June 27th, the smart ones had stopped making predictions. Luke was recovering too quickly, and too fully. God was at work in him, and Luke progressed as quickly as they would let him. Now he's at home, and getting ready to go to his first outpatient rehab class tomorrow. LAst night, he went out to dinner with his family, digging in to lasagna and chicken parmigiana like nothing ever happened.

There are some signs that he was sick. He lost 50 lbs. He walks with a pronounced limp due to a bad bone bruise on his knee. He tires easily, and his hands are shaky. There may be some residual nerve damage from the sedation and paralysis, or it could be related to the anoxia, but in either case, we know it will be healed as well. Luke is working hard to get back to the man he was before the accident, a teenager with a pickup truck, a pretty girlfriend, and a new puppy. It's going to be hard for us to let him be that teenager; we know how close we came to losing him. It's going to be hard to sit back and watch him go his own way again; I'm going to worry about him every time he gets on the road, whether he's driving or not. Then again, I'm worrying more about all of my kids. As a parent, I've been exceptionally lucky. I've raised six kids, and never hd to deal with a really bad illness or injury before. Sure, we've had our crises and our dramas, and many many trips to the emergency room, and one or two scares, but never anything like this. The bubble of invulnerability has been fractured before, but never shattered.

Now it has. Like a teenager finally coming to grips with their own mortality, I've been faced with a parent's worst fear: losing a child. From a distance, I watched my friend Katie as she went through it, and through my own fear and sorrow, I mourned for Henry with her even as I prayed that I would not have to follow her into that grief. And thanks be to God, I didn't have to. But I was forced to confront an aweful truth: my children are not in my hands, but in God's. And my spelling of 'aweful' was deliberate. I released Luke into God's hands, and God gave him back to me. It's an awful thing to have to learn, that you are powerless to save your child; it is an awesome thing to to learn, that God isn't.

As grateful as I am to God for sparing my son, I am left with a question that has no easy answer. Why did Luke live, and not Henry? Katie and her friends and family prayed just as hard and just as earnestly for Henry. A God who works miracle could surely have worked two at the same time. Why did Henry have to die in God's plan?

I know what the Bible says: "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" In other words, "Who are you to think you can understand My ways?" While I concede the logic of the answer, emotionally, it is unsatisfying and for a grieving parent, it's no help at all. Understanding that God's plan, while working for good, is incomprehensible to the limited mortal mind doesn't help much when you're mourning the loss of your child.It bothers me because part of being a Christian is to love your neighbors, and part of that is trying to bring them comfort when they need it, and right now, I don't know of any comfort I can give except the cold comfort of faith in the goodness of God. How can I convince a grieving mother of the glory of God when I would have a hard time believing it myself? I rejoice today because Luke lives. If one of my children died tomorrow, would I still rejoice and proclaim God's glory? I don't know and I don't want to know. I want to believe that I could still stand in praise like my friend Kathy, who lost her son to cancer, but I just don't know. I'd like to believe I have the faith of the Centurion, but honesty compels me to admit that I only reach that level of faith intermittently, when I'm left with no other choice.

So did God save Luke because I'm a better Christian than Katie? Hardly! I am a Christian, but I am also a sinner, and I'm no better than any other man or woman. Like the bumper sticker says, I'm just forgiven.

So we're left with faith again, but on second thought, maybe faith isn't such a cold comfort after all. Maybe I'm being deceived, even now. When I prayed those nights for the life of my son, when I had to give him up and place him in God's hands, I was comforted, and it was through faith. I believed Luke would be healed and that faith did comfort me even on the darkest night. That faith also allowed me to finally place Luke in God's hands and to let God take him if that was His plan. I can't claim to walk in that level of faith right now, but I did that night, and I'm trying to stay there. Faith doesn't have to be perfect to be effective; it just has to be there. I still don't know why Luke lived and not Henry, and I don't know what I would say to Katie if she asked me that question, but maybe this is one of those times when I don't need to know what to say, but to let the Holy Spirit speak through me..

I'd still like to have a better answer.

I have been following along here since reading about your son over at Katie's site. I am so happy to read that Luke is home and doing well.

Great news, Rich! I rejoice with and for you, and Luke, and your family. God is great!

As to why this happened, I don't think God deliberately causes such things (unless in exceptional circumstances). He never promised us that everything would be wine and roses in our lives; He promised us grace to cope with life, and what it brought us. He's clearly done that for all of you in this matter.

I think Luke will emerge from this a changed man, in many ways. My older sister (a nurse) always lamented that teenagers blithely assumed they were invincible, invulnerable and infertile, and much of her job was to deal with the consequences! I hope Luke gives the glory to God for the miracle of his survival and good health. Perhaps he'll hear a future call more clearly now . . . who knows?

Faith's not a cold comfort. It's the incandescent fire of God's presence, burning away the dross in us and purifying us unto eternal life. Some of us (including me) have far too much dross, so the flame sometimes sputters and grows dim; but that's my fault, not God's. I suspect you and yours have had a lot of dross burned away these past few weeks!

What a wonderful post! Great news! I will continue to pray for you and for Katie for continued comfort, courage and faith.

Awesome, awesome, awesome news!! I am so happy for all of you, praise God!!

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