Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Love and Rehab

Dear Jan,

Of the more than 16,000 days of your life the last 200 days have been without a doubt the most challenging. Some have been unbearable, full of pain; others have been lonely and disorienting, your brain trying to define your self and those around you; still others have been full of hope and joy, basking in the love of those who felt loved by you in the past and love you in return. Your resistance has been tested, your character observed, your faith and your capacity to trust put to the ultimate test. And you have beat the odds, the pain, the uncertainty, the loneliness and have challenged the prognosis that talked of things that you would not do and functions you had lost that now persistently you want to prove you can rebuild. At times it feels like you trained all your life to run this race, and that you have set your mind to win, that the race is about something higher than just recovering functions, that it reaches deeper and is changing your thinking, your believing and your doing. You have come a long way, you moved from the emergency operating room to critical care to intensive care to a general ward, then transferred to a rehabilitation hospital from which you were sent home last June and where you are still receive out-patient re-hab therapies. The trip has not been pleasant, the lack of a map makes it uncertain, but the abundance of love from relatives, church-friends, colleagues and even your boss has made it more bearable. In 200 days you have seen a life of an unknown quality; you have amazed everyone with your determination and continue to fight the grey of everyday life with a smile.

The days after the operation you laid unconscious, your life hanging from a thread, the medical team keeping all expectations to a minimum, because all of the blood vessels in your brain could react “angrily” to the injury, and just seize-up, kill the brain. Your body kept breathing in, breathing out, with help; the ventilator and dozens of sensors connected to monitors detected every small sign of life from your body; they told an electro-mechanical story of your fight for life. Then, one day you opened your eyes. I remember the excitement I felt when slowly you scanned your surroundings with your eyes, then found my face and looked straight into my eyes. For a few seconds you stopped all movement, like trying to find in your memory who was this person and when you had found me your lips hinted a smile. Slowly you came back from the unknown ocean where you had been. From there on, I knew you were going to live.

These days are truly full of mystery, full of questions larger than life. There are some questions that everyone thinks but few dare to ask them aloud. I will ask them on another day because you have already given me the answers. For now, let me remind you that you cried yesterday when I told you are deeply loved as you were, as you are and as you will become. Then, we just laid quietly side by side holding hands knowing that love has healed us and will continue to do so.



ed and alvina rempel said...

I have just returned from the Ukraine and have enjoyed reading about are truly an amazing lady and I know that the Lord has been good.
Your husband is so great at keeping us updated on your life.
So many thanks for that.
Prayers as you continue your journey.
Ed and Alvina Rempel

FC said...

Thanks, could you post your email address so we can reply?