One month ago, Brady was in surgery. A surgery that we felt as prepared for as we possibly could. A surgery that COMPLETELY rocked our world.
In the last month, we have learned and grown and changed and struggled and celebrated and gagged and barfed and laughed and wept. It has been a whirlwind. The whirlwind. A monsoon, perhaps. Something we never ever would’ve ever thought would happen to us. This kind of thing happens to other people. People you just hear about, even. Not really people you know. Or yourselves. It has been the definition of surreal.
In the last month, we have learned an amazing amount about spinal cord injury, and the neurological side of medicine. We’ve learned about tumours, different kinds, all kinds of big words, all kinds of acronyms, all kinds of medicines. We have learned a TON about the world of rehabilitation, in terms of stretches, exercises, muscles, nerves, and equipment. Braces, AFOs, harnesses, bands, and belts. Bikes, weights, sit/stands, parallel bars, the list goes on. FES in all forms. There has been SO much to absorb.
In the last month, we have learned about accessibility, in terms of what to rent, what to buy, what to apply for, what to adapt or modify, what is covered, and what isn’t. Lifts, ramps, bars, poles. Temporary or permanent. We’ve discovered OSC Abilities and Sask Abilities.
In the last month, we have learned about wheelchairs! A LOT about wheelchairs! Different kinds of wheels, frames, seats, backrests, and armrests.
In the last month, Brady has gained a neurologist, a neurosurgeon, a spinal surgeon on the ward, a resident spinal doctor, a social worker, two physical therapists, an occupational therapist and an assistant occupational therapist, a recreational therapist, a radiation oncologist, and a systemic oncologist. We also have a closer relationship to our family doctor than ever before.
In the last month, we have learned more about programs available to Brady now. Paraprogram. Kinsmen. He qualifies for different grants and benefits now. Ha! “Benefits.” Applications are in full swing for just about everything you can think of. I am in active contact with someone regarding accessibility, and trying to plan ahead without looking too far ahead.
In the last month, I have learned the ways of two hospitals. I go through City Hospital like I live there. Its so familiar and normal now. The security guards and screening people know me. They know Brady’s ward. Not quite his room number yet, but its coming. Greet. Screen. No changes. Sanitize. Take mask off. Sanitize. Fresh mask. Have a good day.
In the last month, our community has shown up. Never would I have EVER expected the support we’ve received. I am in a state of overwhelm when I look at my list of thank-yous, knowing I will never be able to thank everyone appropriately. I hardly know how to talk to people when they come to my house, because “thank you” doesn’t feel sufficient, but I have very little else to offer. We have been flooded with food, cards, finances, gifts, offers, and prayers. The gofundme and e-transfers have carried us with Brady being off work and our life complicating the way it has. I drive to the hospital in a car that isn’t mine that someone else filled with fuel. I pick up coffee, paying with a gift card, and park in the hospital parkade with my parking pass that someone purchased for me. Supper is ALWAYS brought/made for us, and I have help with my children every single day. My house is cleaned, and my laundry is done. We are covered, and it is INCREDIBLE. I do not know how we would stay standing if not for our community. Where did you all come from?? What did we do to deserve your support?!
In the last month, I have been apart from my husband for at least 21 hours per day. I have slept without him for an entire month. And he has slept without me for an entire month. We miss each other terribly. I know every couple does things differently, but he and I are a tight knit pair, and it is incredibly hard to be apart this long. Our children grieve their father not being home. Not always outwardly, but sometimes, and in lots of other ways. Just this morning, I opened a bedroom door and a child popped up with an enthusiastic “Is daddy home??” It was a definite punch in the gut.
In the last month, absolutely everything has changed. Our family life. Our life at home. Our life at the lake. Our recreation. Our security. Our dependance. Our abilities.
In the last month, we have lost a lot. But we have kept our faith, which is above all else the most important thing.
One month down.