Even now, nineteen years after my son's injury, I feel my praying for a miracle was answered. Dan's faith in believing has been astounding. The insight of his spiritual belief, I realize, was based from his youth. Dan was a happy child. He sets goals early on; his bravery has been so inspiring, for he had many crosses to bear when his life was changed dramatically. Instead of his family assuring him, it was him who assured us that God had a purpose. He transformed what he believed by proving his confidence in doing and by a living faith. It easily could have been farewell to farming, but he proved to himself and to others he could fulfill his long-time dream of farming. He looked to the bright side with I can" instead of "I can't" by staying true to his vision and keeping focus on tomorrow and moving toward larger visions. I, myself, had to learn all over to what one would say, letting go. There was not an hour in twenty-four I didn't worry. By mere osmosis, I absorb the craft of letting Dan have an open road just as I did in his young youth. He proved paralysis is a choice and that what ifs are a waste of time"
A Day That Would End Tearing at Your Heart
By Ruby GwinTrafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Ruby Gwin
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4669-4955-3Contents
Introduction....................................................7Chapter 1 The Wings of Prayer...................................11Chapter 2 Homecoming............................................19Chapter 3 Incomprehensible Miracles.............................33Chapter 4 Blessings.............................................37Chapter 5 Life's Golden Gift of Wisdom..........................45Chapter 6 Greatest Times........................................53Chapter 7 Learning Tools........................................63Chapter 8 Education of Life.....................................69Chapter 9 Different Directions..................................75Chapter 10 A Predetermined Course...............................85Chapter 11 A Special Course.....................................93Chapter 12 Special Bond.........................................97Chapter 13 Caring in a Special Way..............................107Chapter 14 Guiding Light of Hope................................115Chapter 15 Old Habits Along with New Help.......................119Chapter 16 With a Thankful Heart................................123Chapter 17 We Never Walk Alone..................................129Chapter 18 Help Thyself Brighten thy Corner.....................137Chapter 19 Reaching Thy Goal, Step by Step......................143About the Author................................................149About the Book..................................................151Acknowledgement.................................................153
Chapter One
The Wings of Prayer
It was a cold, icy February evening in 1988. A winter day that was to change our lives so drastically started like any other—just a normal day. I was preparing our evening meal. My husband, Carl, had been at the farm and had just gotten in the house when the phone rang.
Carl answered the telephone and was told that our son Dan had fallen, and it didn't look good. Carl immediately rushed to Dan's place, just a quarter mile south of our house. As he left, I was still unaware of the seriousness of the fall. Dan had been cleaning the ice off the tarp of the trailer of his semi-trailer and lost his grip. He fell on the icy, hard ground, crushing his spine.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity until finally Carl returned. He said, "An ambulance is taking Dan to the hospital." The expression on his face made me afraid to ask, "How bad is it?" I was filled with fear, for I knew his answer. We both just stood there not saying anything. I don't remember much from that point until we left for the hospital, I do remember calling our other son and daughter (both pharmacists) to tell them what I knew and where Dan was going to be taken.
Our drive to the hospital was quiet. Thinking back, I can see myself so clearly that winter evening: a day that would end tearing at your heart. Thank God the day could not be foreseen that morning. Sometimes we get pretty complacent in our thinking, taking everything for granted.
Once at the hospital, we waited around for some time. Finally the neurosurgeon came and told us that nothing could be done. Dan would be kept overnight and transferred the next day to a hospital in Indianapolis. Carl and I both were exhausted, confused, and terribly frightened. Never had we felt so helpless. We believed Dan should have been lifelined immediately to the trauma center in Indianapolis. Immediate medical care within the first eight hours following injury is critical.
Carl was aware of the seriousness of the fall, for he was a medic during World War II. He tried to shield me by not saying anything, but I knew when I saw Dan at the hospital; no one had to tell me. Dan knew too, for while waiting for the ambulance to arrive, he said, "Dad, you will have to take care of things for me. I don't have any feeling in my legs." This I didn't know. I know this must have been very hard on Carl, for in so many ways he was helpless. The waiting for the ambulance had to be sheer terror for them both.
Carl and I lost track of time. We don't remember when we went home or what our drive to the Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis was like; it's all blank.
Late the next morning, Dan was transferred to the Methodist Hospital by ambulance where he lay in severe pain, waiting to be taken care of in emergency. He had not been given anything for pain; they didn't want him to have anything until he had been seen by the neurosurgeon there. It was some time before he was attended to in the emergency room and placed in the spinal cord care unit. It was evening before Dr. Feuer, a neurosurgeon, came and talked with the family in a conference room. He said, "Your son is very smart, and he understands his condition is serious. There is a possibility you could lose Dan for the next three weeks. I will not operate right now; it may be a few days, because Dan could go into shock."
Everything had happened so fast that it was hard to comprehend. I could only find myself going from praying to asking, "Oh, God, why not me instead?"
It was hard to stay calm, but I knew we all had to help keep Dan reassured because he had to be frightened. We were frightened too, for him. Yet I realized that we should not let our fear of what might happen freeze us into inertia.
One morning—I am not sure what day it was, for everything was just reduced to begging from within for Dan to be all right—Carl and I came home to take care of some necessary business for Dan. We thought it would be okay since they said they were going to wait to operate. There had been no mention of surgery yet. We made it as quick a trip as possible, but upon our arrival back at the hospital, we were told Dan had just been taken into the operating room.
Words can never tell how we felt at that moment. I found myself in a trance, feeling lost, hurt, and unable to believe what I heard. Neither Carl nor I would have left the hospital under any condition had we known. I did know, though, that Dr. Feuer felt Dan was stable enough for the surgery, or he would not have proceeded. We felt the surgeons knew what they were doing and had made a right decision. Dr. Feuer would later become Dan's rock. He was the right doctor for Dan at the time—a wonderful man and a wonderful neurosurgeon.
Hour after hour went by; it was a long ordeal during which all our thoughts were on Dan. Finally, we were told he was in recovery and the doctors would be out to talk with the family. My heart was pounding when Dr. Feuer, the lead doctor of the team, came out. He said, "The surgery went well. When we operated, the spinal cord went right back into place, so we're hopeful of a fifty-fifty chance of recovery, though it will be a while before we know the results."
After the surgery, I got to go in to see Dan, which will be an everlasting memory for me. At first glance, it was not my son; I did not recognize Dan. It is forever framed in my memory. He looked so swollen and was shivering beyond belief in extreme cold. I believe he was packed in ice. They had his head tilted downward, and one could see he was in serious condition.
Corticosteroids could have been administered at the previous hospital that would have taken down the swelling. I can't but wonder if, had the swelling been relieved sooner, the outcome would have been a different story. The neurosurgeon at the hospital felt that nothing could be done and said Dan would be transferred the next day to Indianapolis. It seems with some doctors there is no in-between—it is or it isn't. But that is not always the case!
I am a firm believer that there is always a hopeful chance of just maybe. It is a fact! The longer the swelling is on the spinal cord, the more cells die. As they do, another wave of destruction radiates out from the damaged area. Dan should have been lifelined immediately to a trauma center. Prompt medical care by experts is a key factor in reducing permanent damage and disability resulting from spinal cord injury. Sparing further nerve damage is crucial.
The cord is the portion of the central nervous system enclosed in the vertebral column, consisting of nerve cells and bundles of nerves connecting all parts of the body with the brain. It contains a core of gray matter surrounded by white matter that is enveloped in three layers of membrane. Thirty-one spinal nerves leave the spinal cord and are distributed to the body, passing out from the vertebral canal through the spaces between the arches of the vertebrae. Each root has two branches—an anterior, carrying motor nerve fibers, and a posterior, carrying sensory fibers. Immediately after the branches leave the spinal cord, they merge to form a mixed nerve on each side.
Dan's spinal cord had not been severed. Dan had a T10 lumbar vertebra injury, which affects from the navel area down. The X-rays that were taken of Dan's spine were given to him—I never knew why—and he still has them.
Shortly after surgery, I asked the orthopedic surgeon what Dan's chances for bladder and bowel control were, and he bluntly said, "He is paralyzed—that is it!" There was no explaining anything. I felt at the time and I still do feel it was a coldhearted response. I hoped he'd had a hard day, but he never displayed any bedside manner throughout his time caring for Dan. It was fine to be honest, but he could have been a little kinder with his response. Patients' worst enemy is passivity, lack of the normally expected type of response.
Dan's sister, Deb, his brother, Wilson, and his wife, Melissa, a nurse, were all at Dan's bedside throughout the crisis; a family network of support is crucially important during such a crisis. We all stayed nearby. During the first part of Dan's hospital stay, we stayed at an adjoining hotel where a skywalk took us to and from the hospital. No one got much sleep. It was even hard to eat. Some of us stayed in the waiting room to be near Dan. As they say, you have to experience to understand. The uncertainty weighed heavily on us; we had no idea what was in store for Dan.
Dave Devitt, who had once rented the house where Dan now lives, was there with the family during the crisis. He is always there when called upon or in time of need. He has built a legacy of loyalty. His being there in our darkest times speaks for his character. The support network at such times can lead to new seeds of friendship as well as faith being planted. There were low points. As any parent, I didn't want Dan cheated out of that time in his life.
In the intensive care unit, Dan had IVs, tubes, and hoses just everywhere. It was difficult to go into the ICU, see Dan lying there, and be unable to do anything for him. We were allowed to go in every hour for five minutes. I prayed for a source of strength to guide Dan throughout his ordeal. I could only watch and silently say, "God, please heal Dan, please." I knew it would be a miracle. I never asked why but only asked for his help to guide and walk the road with our little boy.
Often the greatest source of strength during a difficult time is the feeling that we are not alone. During this time we received a very touching letter from our bank president's wife, Ellen Faust. I cannot overemphasize what her inspiring words of faith meant to Carl and me. One cannot know how essential it is to receive words of comfort at such a time. It was a letter written from the heart. That made the letter more meaningful—with it came some solace.
Everyone got their first glimmer of hope when the apparatus was starting to be removed and Dan was transferred to a room. There were brief times when Dan was conscious to semiconscious. As I sat at his bedside, I couldn't help feeling that God had given our son to his father and me for the second time—the little boy that dragged a blue silk-type "blankie" around until it was nothing but a threadbare scrap. I went from fear to hope with a tremendous feeling of assurance—renewed strength of faith.
Dan was heavily sedated on morphine. Morphine is a potent analgesic and narcotic that is used to relieve severe and persistent pain. It wasn't easy, for all we could do was watch over him and wipe his lips and mouth with swabs. Dan was zapped from the morphine and pain.
One day I was with our daughter at Dan's bedside when a nurse came in and gave him a shot in the stomach. Deb told her she never wanted to see that again because of the nerves in the stomach area. Deb is not a forceful person, but she was looking out for her brother. He had been given a type of shot that she knew could have been administered somewhere other than the stomach. There was some insensitivity shown in Dan's care. While many of the hospital staff that worked with Dan were wonderful, others were thoughtless.
I felt like at times I was spinning around in a state of mental confusion. I started to ask myself, "How can Dan meet the challenges ahead and go on?" I soon learned it was by taking action to recover from his downfall. He could do it step by step. I looked back on my childhood; I feel anyone's own life history grows from that time. I wondered if I would be as strong as my son Dan if I had encountered what he had. Our family doctor, Dr. Robert Leak, told Carl and me after the accident that, if Dan was a happy child, it would make a difference on how he would cope. I felt if this was true, then he would be all right, for he had been a happy, smiling child.
Dan still has that smiling expression. Dr. Leak's prophecy proved to be true. Thus brought to memory a day our Presbyterian minister came to the house to visit: Dan was playing on the floor with his road grader. Reverend John went over to where Dan was playing and asked him what he was doing. Dan looked up and replied, "Why, I am grading the road to church," as if Reverend John should have known what he was doing. Reverend John looked down at Dan and smiled, ruffled his hair, and called him "little minister." Dan was three years old. He was always busy with some type of toy equipment. Carl, Wil, and Dan all have a John Deere toy collection.
Chapter Two
Homecoming
Dan had a T10 injury and was paralyzed from the waist down. There was paralysis of all muscles below the level of injury, including those that control the bowel and bladder.
Dan graduated from Purdue University in 1981, receiving a bachelor of science degree in agriculture economics. He had just gotten a good start in farming—his dream. In a different position Dan now has to use his head as never before. He has never complained that his injury robbed him or that he would be on medication daily or in a wheelchair permanently. He has been an inspiration for the whole family, as well as others. Dan has taught us all that, no matter how something may seem or be, it is positive attitude and faith that count! He endures each new day with a bright smile and hopeful gleam in his eyes.
Dan was told he would be in the hospital for four to six months. He made a bet with Dr. Feuer that he would be out sooner—and he was out in five weeks. We were amazed to see this new courage. I knew Dan wasn't alone, for he had what would be his one handicap detour, faith.
I was deeply moved by the way Dr. Feuer cared for Dan. He told Dan to ask for the food the race car drivers got. When he did so, the dietitian acted as if she didn't know what Dan was talking about until he told her Dr. Feuer told him to ask for it. He got the food.
The Methodist Hospital is known to be one of the best places to go for spinal cord injuries. Their trauma center is equipped to handle such injures. At that time there was a special suite for the race car drivers. They had their own kitchenette and special chefs. Now there is a special room for the race car drivers on each floor of the hospital where different types of injuries are cared for. The Methodist Hospital handles a lot of the race car drivers' injuries. I wonder, though, about the innocent victims who had nothing to do with what happened to them—should they be treated differently?
Dan had to have intensive rehab before coming home. There were a series of things he had to do: learn to dress himself, balance himself, transfer from bed to wheelchair and from wheelchair to car seat, jump curbs, and care for himself and prevent pressure sores. A paralytic has a lot to endure. The occupational therapists start the process of rehabilitation. Patients soon learn to make use of the strength left in their muscles. During their rehab process they learn they will have to spend a lot of time just caring for their own needs.
On Dan's homecoming day, I felt frightened at first that he would hurt himself. That fright turned to a feeling that he would manage. He had shown everyone it was not a dead end. He assured us with his enthusiastic determination; I couldn't help but feel he would succeed, and that was his father's and my comfort. We felt part of a great burden had been lifted. Dan had gone through a lot but wasted no time working on where he is today. He learned it is important to know the details of your own care, especially because there are so many things about the body functions and problems that call for knowing and discipline. When you are paralyzed, there are things that can develop, and you don't always know when something is wrong.
For a person with a spinal cord injury, daily life is changed drastically, with lasting effects. It calls for a patient to take the needed steps up front, because of the caring process ahead. Modifications are necessary in the home. Vocational rehabilitation is most important to help restore independence after an injury. Dan traveled to Indianapolis three times a week for two years for physical therapy; at each session he personally paid the up-front cost of fifty-five dollars. I then started doing his leg exercises, which allowed him to maintain the strength and mass of his leg muscles. I was motivated to keep up his exercises, because nerves can find new pathways. It helped that Dan maintained a positive attitude by being highly motivated and patient.
Dan had to lean on others to get things done after he returned home, but for the most part life went pretty well. There was one young boy, Matt Clouser, who helped Dan. He helped his parents with his brother, Luke, who had multiple sclerosis. Matt was good help. He would take control and would see that things got done. Matt instinctively knew when to help Dan and when not to, because of his experience with his brother.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A Day That Would End Tearing at Your Heartby Ruby Gwin Copyright © 2012 by Ruby Gwin. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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