Urine my Heart, Urine my Soul....

Yeah, I thought the blog was over...I thought there wouldn't be more to tell. Boy, was I wrong. First things first, Pops took his seventh swallow test on Tuesday, and to be honest we all sorta expected him to fail (himself included)...I mean, it's hard to get excited after six previously unsuccessful attempts. But he gave it another go and.... HE FINALLY PASSED! And with flying colors, no less. His swallow was 100% normal...no having to turn his head or anything. Can you believe that? After six months of tube feedings he's now able to eat and drink whatever he wants, no thickener required. He didn't think he missed eating that much, but after a few bites of real food, it was hard to get him to stop. The past month he's been able to eat tiny amounts of food, but it had to be pureed, and let's be honest, there's just not that much great tasting pureed food out there. He couldn't even have ice cream or shakes because they melt down to a thin liquid which was totally off limits. But as we watched him scarf down two scoops of Chocolate Factory butter pecan, we shouted, "Slow down, Pops! If you gain any weight we won't be able to transfer you!" That could be a problem....he's lost about 40 pounds since the accident, so if he gains it back, lifting him will be tougher! But it's fun to see how happy he is eating again. My favorite was when I set the ice cream in front of him. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped, and he said, "Ohhhhhhhhhh, quick, strap on my spoon." He slammed that butter pecan like it was going out of style. God love him.

There's one more story to tell. It certainly falls into the "grosser than gross" category, but it's just screaming to be published. It involves mom and a bottle of urine. That's right folks, a big ol' bottle of urine. You see, dad has a permanent catheter for going to the bathroom...he's a quad, it comes with the territory. Sometimes mom has to hold his urine for 24 hours to be tested at the hospital. To do this, she simply empties his urine bag into a container and drops it off at Froedtert, no big deal. Now, mom has a favorite drink...some kind of protein soy drink that comes in a pretty purple bottle...and for reasons unknown, she sometimes keeps these pretty purple bottles in the car to use as urine storage on those days when they're running errands and she needs to empty his urine on the go, a traveling pee portal, if you will. So here's how the story goes...they're out and about at therapy all day and on the way home they stopped at Genesis where I happened to be working. Mom grabbed her supposed 'protein soy drink' and headed inside with dad. About 10 minutes later as I sat at the computer with dad, we suddenly heard mom scream, then gag, then scream some more. She then came running down the hall screaming, then gagging, then furiously waving her tongue from side to side while thrashing about, then screaming and finally gagging some more. We had no idea what had happened until she held up her pretty purple bottle of supposed 'protein soy drink' and screamed, "NO! NO! This is NOT my drink!!!! Uggggghhhhhh!!!!" She looked at dad. "I just drank your URINE!!!!!" As she continued her scream/gag/thrash/gag sequence, it suddenly all made sense. And boy, were we grossed out. And why wouldn't we be. Mom had just taken a swig of dad's own urine. Not just urine, but day-old urine that had been fermenting in the car. I mean, it's bad enough that she drank pee, but it wasn't even fresh pee. Is that not the most disgusting slash hilarious thing you've heard all day? It still makes me laugh. Out loud even. In fact, I'm laughing out loud right now. I hope you are too.

What's the moral of the story, kids? ALWAYS LABEL YOUR URINE STORAGE CONTAINERS. In fact, don't ever keep urine in the same pretty purple bottle that your favorite soy drink comes it. I mean, it's just basic street smarts, people. Needless to say, mom learned her lesson...we hope.

Overall, Pops is doing fabulous. Mom as well. As I watched dad enjoy more ice cream at the Kiltie tonight, I couldn't help but thank God for little (and big) miracles. There is still healing going on, even six months later. We are all praising God....well, mom maybe a little less since she now has to cook meals, do dishes, not to mention the drama dad's eating will bring to the B-Team...but heh, it's all good. I continue to be amazed at God...his wisdom, his timing, his uncanny ability to turn pain into beauty. Why do we doubt? He's got a tight hold of us and He's not letting go. We're in good hands. Urine good hands, too. Choose joy!

To God be the glory, great things he has done.