Stability For Our Time

This morning when the doctors made their rounds, they were very excited about Luke's progress. I could tell because one of them almost cracked a smile. Luke's vent O2 had been reduced 30% overnight and he was breathing 50% O2 and his sat looked great. The doctors are ready to wean him off his sedation and to start waking him up. They are eager to begin doing neurological assessment and find out what, if any, damage the prolonged hypoxia did to him. Luke has several advantages going for him. He's young, which means his brain is still developing, which means any rehab needed should be very successful. Also, he was very heavily sedated during the crisis, which should have reduced his brain's O2 requirement. His biggest advantage however is that God is driving this train, and I believe He won't stop until Luke is completely well.

If all goes as planned tomorrow, Luke will be moved from the prone bed onto a standard hospital bed. He'll have his endotracheal tube replaced by a tracheotomy tube, he'll finally get the CT scan they've been waiting two weeks for, and they'll get him to begin to wake up for the first time. It's an ambitious schedule, and while I'm excited to see him making so much progress, I'm a little bit nervous about pushing too far too fast, but I know God has things under control.

It was kind of funny today. I've spent more time with Luke over the last three weeks than I have in probably all of last year. Between school and his girlfriend, I don't get to see much of him. And fathers don't generally get a lot of physical contact with their kids after a certain age. As they grow up, a quick manly hug or a handshake replace holding hands, brushing their hair out of their face, and kissing boo-boos to make them better. As I sit beside him in the ICU, I find myself touching him like I did when he was little. I place my hand on his chest, so I can feel his heartbeat, and his lungs move as he breathes.I hold his hand, feeling his pulse just beneath the skin as I talk to him about yesterday and tomorrow. I rub his back while I tell him over and over again about how much I love him and how proud I am of him. Every now and then, because he can't stop me, I touch his feet. What's really strange is that even though I've spent hours talking to him, touching him, or just sitting with him, I'm really starting to miss him. It's been almost three weeks since I've heard his voice or felt his hug.It's been nineteen days since I heard him laugh or saw him smile.

That's too long.

On his third day in the ICU, Luke's girlfriend Lindsey brought in a small stuffed penguin, It was a bit ragged and held together with duck tape where the dog had gotten hold of it. Her mother Sandy explained the significance of the toy. Luke and Lindsey had been watching a TV show about a certain species of penguins that mates for life. The show followed two penguins that mated, then were separated. One wound up in a zoo, while the other remained free. Years passed, and the pair did not mate with other penguins. Then fate intervened, and the free penguin was captures, and brought to the same zoo. The two penguins recognized each other, and the next season, they mated.

Luke looked at Lindsey and in all seriousness asked her, "Will you be my penguin?"

He'll probably kill me for telling this story, but that's my boy in a nutshell, and that's why I'm really missing him.

Lord, let him wake up tomorrow and still be that kind of a man. And while you're answering prayers, make me more like him please.

Amen.