Progress Measured; Progress Driven

In the first four weeks after surgery Richard would commonly clamp his eyes shut and say, “Too much!  Too much!”  On gentler days he would dismiss anxieties with a shrug sighing, “Got me.”  Now we are hearing those words less.  Richard is slower in replying, and we can see on his face that he is working his mind to formulate an answer.  While he is having fewer episodes of distress, I am able to see in his eyes when stress is mounting.  I was trying to share with the children the marks to read in their father’s face to gauge his mounting stress using a 1-5 scale.

Level 1 – relaxed, smile-ready eyes

Level 2 – smile-absent eyes

Level 3 – two vertical lines appear between his eyebrows

Level 4 – vertical lines plus eyebrows resting on top of eyeglasses

Level 5 – eyes clamped shut

Richard heard the list and approved.  That alone was a sparkle of progress. 

Oh, yes, speaking of progress. Back in January we, as a family, decided Richard with the brain cyst was an accident risk in driving the car.  He appreciated being chauffeured.  Post-operatively, it was obvious that he should not be driving if the decisions of mere conversation stressed him. Well, today he drove home from church, all 45 miles.  He performed very well.  The route was perfect for a first trip since we take a county highway that is not heavily traveled on Sunday mornings.  He was focused and deliberate in the spontaneous decisions necessary for safe driving. Nothing seemed to bother him – not even the turn signal.  With two left turns and three right turns to get home, he only signaled once and that was when he was turning into our driveway.  After entering the house I complimented him on being so energy conservative that he didn’t waste any energy on the turn signal.  He put his head back and laughed heartily. With or without the blinker, today’s journey signaled success and progress. 

From Flashback to Forward

Flashback to the Super Bowl commercials viewing – our family favorite was the Volkswagen commercial with the little Darth Vadar. Why?  The dad was the hero who empowered his little boy to succeed.  Now that is family values at their best.  

Now more about dad the hero and the most recent news…

Friday was Richard’s first outing since his ride home from the hospital. We headed to St. Louis for his post-op visit with the neurosurgeon.  On the way I needed to stop past JoAnn Fabrics to pick up some supplies for Laura.  Richard had the option of waiting in the car while I dashed in, but, no, he wanted to come along in.  I was delighted strolling into the store on his arm.  Being in the fabric store was splendid therapy for him.  He was wide-eyed and radiant with wonder at all the possibilities, but he kept his hands to himself, a difference from his normal stroking the fabrics.

We arrived at the hospital an hour early to have an intimate lunch at the Bistro Coffee Shop, an unbelievable hospital-based eatery. It was my turn to be radiant as I flashed back to the reality that a mere two weeks ago I’d been eating at the Bistro while Richard lay in the Intensive Care Unit. Here we were celebrating the recovery and restoration side of life.     

At the neurosurgeon’s appointment, the nurse removed the staples from Richard’s incision; he no longer looks like he has a zipper across the top of his head. The repeat CT scan of his head yielded a favorable picture of satisfactory healing without complications.  We were all pleased with the report.  Dr. Matz assured us to continue in our patience.  Gradually stimulating Richard to think and perform will yield the greatest dividend, but Doctor also projected that it will be at least 6 months before Richard will be ready to return to work.  Monday, I will be visiting with the personnel clerk at his work to sort out the paper work to go forward.