I Am Not Schizophrenic

I'm really not. Nor do I have multiple personalities...but I do realize that my mood seems to change drastically from blog to blog. Though this may leave you feeling a bit of motion sickness, it's a very real representation of how we feel on any given day. Some days are just hard, and when dad isn't doing well, all of our attitudes seem to follow suit. But when he is happy and showing progress, our spirits tend to soar. It truly is a crazy roller coaster of emotion, and even after four months I can't seem to prepare myself for those hard days. Obviously, it's no fun watching someone you love go through suffering, and at times it's a sadness that I can't describe. But the joy we feel on the good days...it's awesome. All that to say, I am not schizophrenic and I do not have a mood disorder...at least that I am aware of. Ha.

The good news is....today's blog is a happy one. Dad has had a good couple of days, starting with the fact that he officially met his newest grandson, Mikey. Mike and Becky were finally allowed to bring in six-week old Mikey into the hospital to meet his Bapa for the very first time. Mike said it was amazing...I guess Mikey just stared into his Bapa's eyes for the longest time. Apparently Mikey never stares into anyones eyes, so it was pretty special. He even gave dad a couple of goofy smiles, which of course made dad cry. It was a very, very special introduction. Bittersweet a little bit, as Pops is known in some circles as the "baby whisperer" for his uncanny ability with infants. Though he couldn't hold Mikey as I am sure he wanted to, I know it was a very sweet time for him and dad couldn't stop smiling. Very cool.

Dad also got another real shower...the second in four months so you can imagine how great that feels for him. Fresh as a flower, in just a half an hour.

Today was pretty big....it was the first day they have ever capped off his trach completely. We have been hearing about the notorious "red cap" for some time, which basically covers up his trach hole so he is forced to breathe through his nose and mouth. In the past he was never quite ready for it because of his secretions or lack of muscle control with swallowing, but today he was able to tolerate it for quite some time. This is great news. We hope that it means his swallow is improving, but the real test will be the "swallow test" which should be happening this week. We are all feeling pretty anxious about it because it will be a major factor in determining his future, medically speaking. If he passes, he's on to eating, drinking, talking, and eventually the removal of his trach all together. If he fails, he could be looking at a lifetime of stomach feedings, limited speech, and all the drama that goes along with the trach in general. So there is a lot at stake. We will be praying our hearts out that he passes his test, and we ask anyone willing to do the same. If I find out a specific time, I'll be sure to get it posted. Please, Lord, let him pass that swallow test!

As far as the service monkey, it's really pretty fascinating. Just as a seeing eye dog assists a blind person, a service monkey works as the 'hands' of a quadriplegic. They're amazing! His monkey would be trained to help with dad's specific needs, opening cabinets, retrieving items, turning the pages of his book...anything that requires dexterity, which dad just doesn't have. How awesome would that be? And who doesn't dream of having a pet monkey? Unless, of course, you're Michael Jackson and you get what ever you want. So hopefully a service monkey will be in dad's future...there's a lot that needs to happen before we can begin the process, so who knows. It sure would be sweet. When we told dad about it last week, he frowned and said, "But I already have a service monkey!" Then he nodded his head in mom's direction. He laughed so hard a loogie flew out of his trach.

At church today, they talked about how God tests us. Not to see us fail, not to watch us squirm, but to see where He falls in order of importance in our lives. Sometimes he takes things away from us, our health, our wealth, our most prized possession, or sometimes people we love, in order to shake our priorities in order. I immediately thought of Pops, and what he's had taken from him....his health, his abilities, his freedom, at times his dignity. And I wonder what I would do in his situation. Do I love God more than my legs? Do I love God more than my freedom? More than my ability to walk, run, move, hug, speak? Could I give up the things that bring me the most pleasure if God asked them of me? Tough questions. It's no fun to be tested, but I know that the sorrow and pain of the test will not be wasted. God wants to be first in our lives. My prayer is that we strive to put him there every day.

To Him be the glory.