I am sitting here next to H’s bed in his hospital room, listening to his still somewhat labored breathing as he sleeps. I wish I knew what he was dreaming about; every so often he whimpers a bit and changes position before drifting back off.
Also in his room is the full time “room sitter” that his doctors have insisted remain with him at all times until he leaves the hospital. She (or her overnight shift replacement) sits quietly in the corner of the room, reading. She is here to be sure that H doesn’t do anything like yank out his IV when no family member is present (he’s yanked out several other tubes while flailing around) and also to be sure that no one comes to visit whom we don’t want seeing H. Apparently it’s very common for “friends” of addicts – particularly younger addicts – to come for a hospital visit with the intent of “helping out” by slipping the hospitalized person a little taste of the substances that landed the addict in the hospital in the first place. Obviously, that prospect terrifies me, so while it’s kind of weird to have a stranger sitting here in the room with us at all times, we are all happy with her presence. Also, while it’s a less likely scenario, we know that there are suspects out there right now who came very close to killing our son. They don’t need to be making any unannounced visits to the hospital either.
Physically, H continues to heal in a very promising way. His lungs are clearing more each day. His docs hope and predict that his heart damage will resolve itself with time – young hearts are a lot more resilient than middle-aged ones. He still has the cervical/neck brace, but they were finally able to get the neck scan they needed last night, so we are hoping that when it gets looked at today, the doctors will decide that the neck damage can continue to improve without the brace. I know H would love to get it off today. They did a hearing test yesterday, but it was inconclusive.
He has not yet walked on his own – not even a few steps. He can sit up with assistance, but not for very long. He can lift and move his legs and arms to some degree, but it’s slow and it takes effort. Cognitively, his ability to retrieve facts is quite good. However, his ability to process information, respond to commands and requests, and to maintain focus are all clearly areas that are going to take time and effort to bring back to where they should be for an intellectually and musically gifted 18 year old boy. His pupils remain quite dilated, but he can slowly track with his eyes. He never really talks much without being asked to respond to something, but very occasionally he surprises us by saying something quite hilarious out of the blue.
We have all begun pushing him a bit to tell us what he remembers about what happened. We have also begun trying to talk with him about whether he understands the gravity of what has happened, and whether he is ready to accept help for his drug problem. As horrifying as his current situation is, I know that we may not be at his personal “bottom” yet – the place where he will understand and accept his addiction for what it is. I am terrified by this – absolutely terrified.
The doctors have begun discussing his potential release. This is likely to happen sometime in the next week, which is incredible and alarming to me. He will almost certainly go directly to inpatient neurological and physical rehab, but if the scenario the doctors propose is one where he comes directly home and we do outpatient rehab, I feel very insecure in my ability to care for him well enough when he still cannot walk, talk well or care for even his basic personal needs. But I understand that hospital beds are for people with physical illnesses and injuries – not neurological ones – and that once the specifically physical manifestations of what happened to him (lungs, heart, skull, broken jaw, etc) are well enough resolved, he can’t stay here. But we will just cross that bridge when we get to it. Today he will have his first consult with the neuropsychologist, so we’ll have a lot of questions then about what we are looking at for H in the days and weeks ahead.
Once again, I want to thank my friend Jillian (whom I owe a trip to the Sitar buffet when this is all over!) for setting up the really great online Care Calendar that has been allowing friends to coordinate helping us with childcare and food. I simply CANNOT EXPRESS how much this help has eased our burden on a day to day basis. Thanks VERY, VERY much to every single person who has helped us in some way, as well as those of you who have sent notes, emails, messages, texts, etc. I have been especially touched and moved by the highly personal sharing so many people have done since this started, letting me know about their own personal struggles with addiction – or with a child’s addiction. I’ve felt so alone, and hearing that others have beaten this disease gives me the hope I need to get through each day.
xoxo,
Katie
