Tag: caregiving

Unstoppable: Jim and Juanita Soyk

Jim and Juanita Soyk
Photo courtesy Grace Thorson

A good name is to be more desired than great wealth ~Psalms 22:1 (NASB)

It’s Sunday afternoon, and our son’s dog is dancing in the kitchen because two of her favorite people are rolling up to our door. It takes a bit for them to get out of the car and up the sidewalk. Jim Soyk Sr. hunches over his walker as he concentrates on keeping up with his feet. His wife Juanita directs him from behind while with a firm grasp. Two halves of a dynamic duo have just entered our house, and our world has come alive.

Jim grew up in abject poverty in Wisconsin, the second son of a drunken carpenter and his sweet wife. His father both abused and neglected the family, and Jim grew up long before his time. As a child, he worked to support his mom and sisters while his dad cavorted around the community bars. As a young man, he defended his mother from his father. In school, he learned to fight the bullies that mocked his ragged clothes.

His father taught him to be tough. His mother taught him to be gentle.

But the hunger and the hardships and the rags he wore would not define this boy as he grew to manhood. Although he had every reason in the world to be a thug, James Neil Soyk, Sr. grew to be a gentle giant. Early in life he displayed a keen intellect and a deep interest in electronics. He escaped the harsh life of Wisconsin by enlisting in the Navy and earning an engineer’s license. While in the Navy he met and married a beautiful Southern girl named Opal. Together they had two children, Pam and Jim Soyk, Jr.

After the Navy, Jim pursued a career in broadcasting, a choice that resulted in a nomadic lifestyle during the early years for the family. When they discovered the Lewis-Clark Valley, though, they felt that they had finally found “home.” Here Jim quickly became a public figure. His ease before audiences and quick wit earned him many appearances. He was a popular emcee at events and as a disc jockey for a local radio station. He was especially beloved as the character “Auntie Maude,” the cantankerous elderly “lady” that dispensed her wisdom to audiences in local venues.

Life would deal him more harsh blows.

He nearly died in a car accident in 1967. As the airwaves were alive with news of a six-day-war in Israel, Jim fought for his life in the hospital. He finally returned home, thin and pallid from his injuries and the hepatitis he contracted from the blood transfusions he received. With his customary humor, he told people he was the only person he knew who had a gall bladder removed by a Rambler.

Jim became a believer in the Lord Jesus in the mid-1970’s, radically changing the course of his life. He began to understand the Father he had never known, the one who had preserved him through his dad’s beatings, through the starving times, and through a devastating car accident. This knowledge would empower him to extend grace and forgiveness to his earthly father. It would also bring his entire family to a saving knowledge of Christ.

Then, in 1989, Opal suffered a series of strokes. Jim became her caregiver until it was physically impossible to keep her at home. In 1994, she joined her Lord.

Then along came “Janey.”

This lovely and vivacious lady suffered much loss of her own before meeting Jim. She was the eleventh child of thirteen in her family. Her father died when she was six years old, and the younger children were raised by her mother and her second oldest brother.

Her mother cleaned rooms, took in laundry, and sold her homemade tortillas to make ends meet. One of Juanita’s brothers worked at the nearby airport before he went to school to earn some money.

Tragedy struck her life once again during a rafting trip with friends on the Snake River. The raft unexpectedly got caught in an eddy,  dumping Juanita and a friend into the water. Juanita nearly drowned but made it out. Her friend died.

Later, her first marriage ended in a painful divorce. Forced to start a new and unplanned life on her own, she earned her general equivalency diploma, her certificate as a nursing assistant, and an associate’s degree in medical terminology.

Separately, Jim and Juanita had learned to conquer adversity. Together, they would find new strength and a new calling.

They were married on Christmas Day in 1994, blending two lives and two families. They served in local politics, Jim as county commissioner and Juanita as election judge and head of the Republican ladies’ committee.

Leland Church
Photo courtesy Erik Thorson

A New Calling

In 2002, they answered the call to open the doors of a church that had long been closed. The Leland Methodist Church had once housed a vibrant membership, but when Leland died as a town, the church had finally been forced to close its doors. It had been silent for about thirty years when Jim and Juanita took on the arduous task of cleaning it up and building a new congregation.

The church’s exterior siding was faded, and its exquisite stained glass windows sagged in places, but in September of 2002, one hundred people crowded its sanctuary to celebrate the opening of Leland Pioneer Community Church. Once again the sound of praise filled the air as the gentle giant stood in the pulpit and wept with joy.

For fifteen years, Jim and Juanita served their Leland neighbors, their families, and the surrounding communities with generosity, laughter, and plenty of Juanita’s special salsa. Their loyalty to those they love has been as inspiring as their determination. It was often a lonely journey as they soldiered on through personal heartache and physical ailments. They kept the church doors open through lean times and good times, and only stepped down when Jim’s health became too fragile to continue on.

The church has been sold, but the doors remain open, a testament to the witness the Soyks have left behind. Jim and Juanita have moved to Lewiston to be closer to family and healthcare. But much of their hearts remain in the communities they have loved.

Today, on September 26, Jim Soyk is eighty-five years old.

Today, I celebrate all that he and Juanita are to those whose lives have been touched by them. Jim is my precious dad, and Juanita is my beloved step-mother. Today, I wanted you to know what I know. I wanted you to know that their smiles have been hard-won, the praise they give to God springing from grateful hearts. Their journey has been hard, but God has given them a greater grace for each step. Though much adversity, they have always pressed on for the glory of God. I am so proud of them, and I love them so much.

Thanks, Dad, for always being there. Thanks for making it easy to love my heavenly Father because of the example you set. Thank-you for living with integrity so that your family could wear a good name.

Thank-you, Juanita, for loving us unconditionally and for accepting us as your family.

Happy birthday, Dad. Your faith has made you both unstoppable.

Spinning My Tires

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Around and Around

It should have been a banner year. How many people get to be authors? And have an article published in a print magazine? And get to work at a job they love? How many parents see their children and grandchildren living solid lives of faith and hope?

  • This year I had the honor of working with my daughter Grace, who, by the way, is the best office assistant/publicist ever.
  • I had the joy of seeing our youngest son get his own place and grow in a job he loves.
  • I celebrated when our eldest granddaughter was accepted into the college of her choice.
  • I joined my beloved family for a nine-day trip to my favorite Pacific beach and attended my first Hot August Nights car show in my hometown.
  • My precious husband and I celebrated forty-two years of marriage with a two-day trip to the Big Town, where we got our Cabela’s fix and my husband finally bought a buffalo picture. He’s maintained for years that a log home needs a buffalo pic. I maintained otherwise. We finally agreed on one that would nicely grace the upstairs hall at the top of the stairs. At a vintage lamp shop downtown, I bought my first Quoizel Tiffany lamp, something I’d been coveting  for several years.
  • The ancient mint and green carpet in our house is giving way to a handsome porcelain slate tile that will hold up better to country living, wheels, and our son’s German Shepherd/cross dog.
  • I’ve been able to share our story and God’s comfort with others through my writing and speaking. My first book, Song in the Night, recently was re-released in e-book form. I’ve met and re-connected with many wonderful people and heard inspiring stories of faith across this country.
  • I even learned how to use Google+ Hangouts to make a video presentation at a virtual caregiving conference, no small feat for a sixty-year-old woman who still struggles with the t.v. remote.

Yes, 2014 should have been a great year. In fact, it has been. And for that I’m eternally grateful to my Savior.

So why did I lose steam mid-summer? Why did I feel like I was spinning my wheels?

Mostly, I think, it was because in the midst of everything else, I am, first, a caregiver. Everything that I do comes after and along with my caregiving duties. Simple things like a trip to town involve a a lot of work and planning.

Every step is hard work. Every victory comes with much warfare. The joys have been interwoven with sorrow.

We lost Aaron’s beloved mother in January; my dear uncle in July. Kevin had an infection and sternum injury in May. He received emergency care during our coastal trip and again back at home. My father endured a hard winter of medical struggles. Then I suffered a severe lumbar strain and was completely out of commission for a few weeks. The family had to take up the slack in the daily chores.

It was during that time down in bed that I finally could stop. The enforced rest gave me a chance to re-think what I’ve been doing and what I want to achieve. One thing I know for sure:

I never want to be spinning my wheels on this journey. I want to listen carefully to God and only go where He guides. That may not mean a smoother ride. In fact, that may only increase the warfare in my soul and on the home front.  The road to Zion is narrow and often filled with detours. I’m thankful to be on this trip, though. My destination is assured; a room in God’s mansion is already reserved for me heaven. It’s just a matter of staying on course, listening for God’s guidance, and remembering to enjoy the view along the way.

I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.

Photo courtesy Kevin Thorson/copyright 2014

Learning the Meaning of Sacrifice: Grace Thorson

Today I’m honored to host a guest post by my youngest daughter, Grace Thorson. Grace was very young when her brother Kevin suffered a spinal cord injury and paralysis. She offers a personal look at how Kevin’s injury impacted her life. Here is a fresh perspective on caregiving from the vantage point of a sibling. 

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When I was eight, my brother, Kevin, broke his neck doing a back flip in Canada. He was part of a music team, and he absolutely loved doing it. With this new injury, and through a difficult round of events, he found amazing care at a hospital in Spokane, Washington. At the time, I was an overly quiet and serious-minded little girl. Most wouldn’t think it, but I had a defiant nature, and I undoubtedly still do.

With all the surrounding chaos, I didn’t fully grasp my family’s predicament. It didn’t help that I often found myself switching between staying at the hospital and the nearby Ronald McDonald House. I was often detached and protected from the serious and tumultuous circumstances surrounding my brother’s care. It was a dark time for me, and I needed a healthy dose of perspective to brighten up my life.

At the hospital in Spokane, Kevin had physical therapists assist him with strength and mobility training. I often tagged along with my parents and watched the therapists with curiosity. One particular therapist that we nicknamed “Sarge” became the reason that I learned the true meaning of sacrifice.

During one of Kevin’s sessions, Sarge told me (more like ordered) to help in the process of getting him in and out of bed. I remember feeling the fire of rebelliousness rising and wondering, “How can she order me about? She’s not my mother.” Reluctantly, I accepted Sarge’s demand and took on the tedious job of rolling up my brother’s leg wraps. It was a mundane chore, and I didn’t understand the significance of doing it.

But, with time, it kind of grew on me, and I relished the idea that I had a role to play within my family’s dynamics. With surging enthusiasm, I showed eagerness to learn and do more for my brother. If I had rebelled, I may never have learned one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever been presented with: sacrifice.

With being a part-time caregiver to my brother, and helping my family at home, I know how valuable sacrifice really is. Sacrifice is love.

Grace Thorson
Grace Thorson has been a caregiver to her brother since 1997. She works as an office assistant to author Pam Thorson. She serves as an editor and contributor to the Christian music website http://www.cmaddict.com. Grace enjoys photography, cats, and good books. You can follow  Grace’s reviews, interviews, and photography at http://www.gracethorson.wordpress.com

Beauty from Ashes: Part 3

 

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The last two days, we have been learning the story of Barb Farrington and her daughter Katie following Katie’s accident in 1998. Today is the third and final installment of their inspiring story. In this post, Barb also shares some important words for new caregivers and shares a tender, personal story of forgiveness.

A New Season

In a short time, Barb’s and Katie’s lives had radically changed. Barb had given up a job she loved, lost her husband, and lost the daughter she once knew. Now she had to bond with the new person who was her daughter now. It took some time to work through that.

There was more, too, with which she needed to come to terms. “In order for our home to be really healthy and happy, we need to believe in a bigger picture.”

She made the decision to fight for her joy. That decision was the beginning of the journey back from despair. “I found myself again. In caregiving, you live someone else’s life so much. So much went into her, I didn’t know who I was. I was a walking, talking body. As I began to remember that I was a person, too, things began to come full circle.”

What’s important to her today?

“My faith, my family, going to River City Church, my friends. I don’t know what I would do without my friends and my sisters who give phone support. Friends are God’s angels to Katie and me.”

“I can truly say that God is good. There was a while that it was hard to get that out: God is good. I can truly say that I’m content. Katie’s happy. She was mad at God for a while. She didn’t really want to pray or anything. But she’s come full circle, too.”

Barb says she feels they are entering a new season. “I can’t put it into words. It’s a new feeling that I have for Katie. Overwhelming tenderness comes as close as I can to describing it. I’ve been tender with her, but it’s just different. I feel the need to spend more quality time with her, to connect on an even deeper level.”

“I need her. She’s always been important in my life, but I really feel I need that interaction.”

Never Give up Hope.

Barb has some important words for someone just beginning the caregiving journey:

  • There is always hope. Always hope. Never, ever, give up hope. I strongly believe in Jeremiah 29:11: ‘I know the plans I have for you…’
  • Make sure that you take time for yourself.
  • Don’t lose who you are, because it’s really easy to do. The person you’re caring for needs you, and they need you whole and healthy.
  • Don’t be afraid to share all your thoughts with God. Keep going to God, because He will meet with you. Even if you’re mad at Him, He’ll meet with you. I was more disappointed than mad. It was one disappointment after another. Then it seems like you’re not worthy to expect anything but disappointment.
  • Be around people who will encourage you.
  • Find something to laugh about every day. You have to have some  humor.

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A Life Worth Living: A Story of Forgiveness

One of the hardest things for Barb was to forgive the young man who was driving the night Katie was injured. She hated him with a passion. After the accident, police told Barb he never once asked how Katie was doing.

This young man’s family was well-known in the area, and lies began to circulate about the night of the accident. One lie was that Katie was driving that night.

The state took the young man to court. He was sentenced to eighteen months of boot camp. Barb had refused to see or speak to either him or his parents until that day in court. As far as she was  concerned, he was spoiled and already an alcoholic at the age of eighteen. She’d heard that he had a past record of bad behavior without suffering the consequences of his actions. This fed her anger.

It was in the courtroom that God broke through Barb’s bitterness. When she saw him sitting there in his jail uniform, she thought, “He’s just a boy.” It was then that her heart began to change toward him.

One Christmas after they moved to Lewiston, the phone rang. It was the young man’s mother, Cindy. She told Barb, “I needed to call you. I was out shopping today, and I saw a woman with her daughter. They were having such a good time together, and I thought of you and Katie. You will never be able to do that. I’m so sorry.”

Barb told her, “That’s all I ever wanted. Just to hear you say, ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s all I ever wanted.”

Barb forgave Cindy, and they developed a friendship. Cindy went around to the schools in the area and gave talks about the horrors of drunk driving.

Cindy asked Barb if their family could come see Katie sometime. Barb agreed, and her dad came over to be with Barb to lend her moral support when the day arrived. When their family walked through the door, Barb’s dad broke down and cried. He told them, “My girl’s just been hurt so terribly.” It was a time of tears and forgiveness.

The young man asked Barb, “What should I do to help you, to try to make things right?” That was when Barb discovered that he had found God. Barb told him, “The best thing you can do is marry your girlfriend, know Jesus as your personal Savior, be active in a church, and be a good citizen. That’s how you can make this better for us. I want you to go on and have a good life and do all the things that a person should do to make a life worth living. If you do that, then you’ve helped us.”

Not long after that, Barb helped him get his record expunged. For her, the reason was simple. She thought about what Jesus did on the cross for humanity. Jesus forgave her sins and wiped her slate clean. She now had the power to do that for someone else.

It was a cleansing act for Barb, bringing beauty out of the ashes of their lives.

Photos courtesy Grace Thorson

Beauty from Ashes: Part 2

 

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Yesterday, Barb Farrington shared the terrible accident that left her daughter Katie fighting for her life. Today, in Part 2, Barb describes the next steps in their journey.

From Hospital to Home

Katie was at St. Alphonsus Hospital for about a month, where she began to come out of her coma. She was moved to Elks Rehab in Boise, Idaho, where she was weaned off the ventilator. It was around this time that Barb began to notice encouraging signs of awareness in Katie. A friend of Katie’s gave her a little dog. When they put it in Katie’s hands, she would look at it. On a trip out of the hospital, Barb saw Katie watching the trees go by the van window.

But she couldn’t get the medical staff at the rehab hospital to give any credence to these small but significant changes. One day they announced to Barb that they had done all they could and that they were going to release her. They planned to discharge her on a Friday, leaving Barb and Ron scrambling to find a place for her.

They fought for a few extra days at the hospital, while Barb looked for another hospital for Katie. Ron began to get his house ready for Katie’s inevitable discharge home. The hospital in Burns, Oregon, which was near Barb’s home, graciously consented to take Katie until Ron’s home could be readied to accommodate their daughter.

“This girl’s trying to work with me.”

Finally, a doctor noticed her new awareness. He told Barb, “This girl’s trying to work with me. I know a doctor she needs to see: Dr. Josie Fitzsimons.” Dr. Fitzsimons became a good support for the family. She had them move Katie to Bend, Oregon, so they could work with her every day.

But Barb could only be there on weekends, because of her job as a K-3 library tech at the Burns school. When she did go to see Katie, Katie would turn her head away from her and toward the wall. Barb knew Katie was terribly unhappy. “I knew I had to do something different.”

When Ron’s house was ready, Katie was discharged home. Ron and Barb took turns caring for her. Finding respite care was hard. Barb’s marriage began to crumble.

“Oh, Katie, what have you done?”

When did Barb truly realize that Katie was still there, locked inside her body?

“I always knew that. Here’s one instance: When she was at the Burns hospital, my sister and I were dressing her one day. We knew she was tracking things, and hearing things, but we weren’t seeing facial responses. My sister got after me and said, ‘You’re just too rough when you’re dressing her. You need to be gentler.’ Katie laughed, because we got to arguing about it. It was her first laugh.”

“That did it for me. From then on, she started expressing emotion.” One day while Katie was living at Ron’s, Barb gave in to the exhaustion. She broke down into tears and said, “Oh, Katie, oh, Katie, what have you done?”

At that moment, Katie cried. Barb felt really terrible. She’s never mentioned it again in Katie’s presence.

Still, Barb grieved over the changes happening in Katie’s body. Before her accident, she had been a fairly athletic girl. It hurt Barb to watch Katie’s legs atrophy. “A piece of me was dying. Someone has said that when a woman chooses to have a child, that child is her heart walking outside her body forever. It’s so true.”

Greater love has no man than this…

“It was the first time in my life when things didn’t work out right away. I could not believe it. It was the nightmare that you wished you could wake up from.” Barb’s mother came to stay with her and told her, “You cry at night in your sleep.”

Katie’s world had become hers. “And there,” she says, “I think I made a mistake.” Her marriage to Rex dissolved–not surprising, since statistics reveal that few marriages survive the stress of dealing with a child’s disability.

Throughout 1998 and into 1999, they tried taking Katie to various rehab hospitals in a futile effort to help her improve. In 1999, Barb and Katie resettled in Lewiston, Idaho, to be nearer to her family. Of her decision to care full time for Katie, Barb says, “I couldn’t bear to be away from her. God spoke so softly to my heart this Scripture: ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life….’ (John 15:13 KJV) And I just knew.”

Barb now operates a certified family home through the state of Idaho’s Medicaid program. She also cares for another client, Ted, who is protective of Katie. The state pays for fifty-six hours of nursing care a week to help Barb with Katie’s extensive caregiving needs. Barb calls it a “miracle provision.” Ron comes down every other weekend to help. Katie adores her dad, and they love to watch golf together.

Barb feels that God prepared her long in advance for this new job of caregiving. Before she was a library tech, she worked in special education for eight years. “Talk about God preparing me for what was ahead,” she says with a smile.

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Today, at age thirty-four, Katie very much understands humor and sadness. She knows her grandma has passed away. She has favorite people. She shows disapproval by wrinkling her nose and frowning, or yelling. She appears to understand some of the subtleties of relationships and displays jealousy.

She likes giving gifts. She loves to help choose them and watch the recipients’ reactions as they open them. It really pleases her if they like it.

Katie communicates by blinking once for yes and twice for no. Sometime she blinks three times. The doctor says she is messing with them.

Tomorrow, Part 3: A New Season and A Story of Forgiveness

Photos courtesy Grace Thorson

 

Beauty from Ashes: A Story of Provision and Forgiveness with Barb Farrington and Katie Tweit

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Today I have the honor of introducing a very special family to you: Barb Farrington and her daughter Katie Tweit. Katie suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident in 1998. Barb is Katie’s primary caregiver and cares for her in their home in northern Idaho. In this three-part series, Barb shares her very personal story of heartache, restoration, and forgiveness.

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The Accident: Angel on Her Shoulder

It was April 8, 1998. Barb and her husband of one year, Rex, were having a branding on the Oregon ranch. Barb tried to get her eighteen-year-old daughter Katie to come up to help with the cooking for the event. Katie’s roommate, Frances, was coming up to ride and rope cattle.

Katie had just landed a new job at a local farm supply company and was going to school at Treasure Valley Community College in Ontario. Oregon. She decided to stay and work at her new job.

The call for Barb came around 9:00 p.m. It was her ex-husband Ron, Katie’s dad. He told her that Katie had been in a serious car accident. She was being life-flighted to St. Alphonsus Hospital in Boise, Idaho, because they had an advanced trauma center.

Barb knew that meant it was bad. She had been told that no bones were broken, which could only mean that Katie had suffered a head injury. She tried to get more information from the hospital, but no one would give her much information over the phone. They didn’t sound encouraging, though.

It was an awful two-hour drive to the hospital.

When Barb, Rex, and Ron arrived at the hospital, they learned more about what had happened. Katie was the passenger in a car driven by a young man who had been drinking. He was driving 110 miles an hour when he lost control of the care. He had been thrown clear. Katie had not.

The doctors had argued about whether they should try to save her.

The accident was terrible. Barb was told that when emergency personnel arrived on the scene, Katie had “death rattles.” She wouldn’t have lived much longer. Barb also discovered that before she arrived at the hospital, the doctors had argued about whether or not to save her. One doctor was adamant that they shouldn’t try.

The medical team had made the decision together to make the attempt. One of the nurses on the trauma team came to visit Barb later. She told her that as they debated Katie’s care, she felt that there was an angel on Katie’s shoulder, protecting her. The nurse just couldn’t push for a decision to let her go.

Barb and Ron were never given an opportunity to decide whether or not to fight for Katie to live. That decision was made before they arrived at the hospital.

The first time Barb walked into Katie’s room, Katie was unrecognizable. Her face was swollen; they’s had to shave part of her hair off to put a pressure monitor into her head to keep an eye on the the swelling in her brain. They weren’t allowed to touch her or talk to her, because any kind of stimulation would be detrimental to her at this point. She wasn’t breathing on her own and needed a ventilator.

No Hope

Katie’s family was given no encouragement about Katie’s prognosis. “It was such a hard time,” Barb says, “We were given absolutely no hope. Nothing.”

One doctor did say that the worst case scenario was that she would never be better than she was at the moment. The best case scenario was that she might walk or talk again. There were no guarantees.

Katie didn’t look good, either. She didn’t respond to others and appeared to be asleep. Her family was told that the first three or four days would be crucial. Most of Barb’s family were in Mexico to attend her nephew’s wedding, held, ironically, on the same day as Katie’s accident. It was difficult to contact them with the news. But Barb was soon joined by her sister, son Andrew with his wife Angie, and daughter Heather.

At the hospital, Barb saw people come in and be released. She saw others that came in and didn’t make it. It was her sobering reminder that God is not a respecter of persons. “You just never know how your situation is going to turn out.” Barb could only wait and pray.

 

Photo of Barb and Katie courtesy Grace Thorson

The Nurse Who Remembered

 

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This post is part of the #Blog4Care blog carnival being hosted by Caring Across Generations. We’re hoping that by sharing our caregiving stories, we can begin to come up with solutions to the care crisis that is affecting millions of Americans. 

Nursing carries heavy responsibilities. It requires long days, longer nights, and impossible schedules. In celebration of one of my favorite nurses, I’ve reprinted an except of our story from my first book, Song in the Night. The nurse’s name has been changed, but everything else is as it happened in the summer of 1997.

More than just a nurse…

One nurse in particular that we loved was named Mandy. She was slender and petite, with lovely dark hair and makeup that was always perfect. She had an exotic air and a husband who was a businessman in Africa. She always seemed to know what to do and did it expertly. Kevin said that she did the best job of suctioning the secretions out of his lungs of anyone on the floor, so I watched her carefully and had her teach us her own technique.

One day in particular, things were very trying. Kevin was still stick, and I just had to go run a quick errand. There was no other family member to stay with Kevin while I was gone, and Kevin kept begging me not to leave him. Mandy saw my dilemma and offered to sit with Kevin until I came back.

Thankfully, I took her offer and rushed out. I knew she was busy, and Kevin wasn’t the only patient that needed her. So I hurried as fast I could and breathlessly returned to find her sitting peacefully at his bedside, chatting amiably with Kevin as she gave him a manicure.

A warm rush of gratitude flowed over me. She could not have realized how little of our human dignity was left after these long weeks. The harsh environment of living in the world of the near-dead had ground us far into the dust. Although people around us had been so good to us, and most of the medical people tried, the very nature of the situation was immensely dehumanizing. We existed on little food, sleep, or comfort. Rehab schedules did not allow time for living. Whoever was staying with Kevin slept on a big chair that folded out into a small bed that was in his room. We often slept and lived in the same clothes. Our world revolved around learning a myriad of medical procedures, basic caregiving, and getting Kevin through another day.

There wasn’t time to truly grieve, to hurt, to process what was happening, or even to feel. We were often treated like machines, pushed and prodded and educated in things we neither envisioned nor wanted to learn. There were days Aaron and I didn’t know who was taking care of our youngest daughter or even where she was. That haunted me, and it caused recurring nightmares in which I had lost her. For a while, she bounced between friends and family. At fifteen, Daniel was learning physical therapy techniques and sitting long hours with his brother. Erik worked full-time down in Lewiston and drove the 100 miles to Spokane every weekend to be with us.

More than “the C2” in Room 210…

I understand that by necessity, the medical world is run by schedules and operates under financial limitations. Faced with the politics of medicine, it’s easy to reduce a patient to “the C2” in Room 210 or “the gallbladder” on the fourth floor.

But Mandy had remembered that we were more. She remembered that we were people – hurting, frightened, and overwhelmed. And she cared enough to stop and give us the help we really needed.

~ Pam Thorson

Podcast March 1st

 

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Join me for a podcast with Denise Brown of Caregiving.com on Saturday, March 1 at 10 a.m. ET (9 a.m. CT; 8 a.m. MT; 7 a.m. PT). Listen live or download the podcast here:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/caregiving

Denise is the founder of a vibrant online community of caregivers. I’m honored to join her for an interview tomorrow morning as I share the story surrounding our son’s disability and my perspectives on caregiving.

Hope to see you there!

God IS in Control

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 God…is the blessed controller of all things. 1 Timothy 6:15 (Phillips)

God IS in Control

What a year it has been already! There have been some sad events: burying my mother-in-law, watching my father suffer through a serious infection. There has also been a rumbling in our lives as the stone has been rolled away from the tomb of some long-standing dreams. I can’t share the details, but I have witnessed enough miracles in the last month alone to move me to tears and remind me that God is a God of wonders.

When He closes a door, it’s closed. Solid. No amount of moving or praying can budge it.

When He opens a door, it’s flung wide to let in the fresh air of hope.

Whatever’s going on in your lives, rest in the trust that God does hear your prayers. And He really cares about you. As I’ve shared in the last couple of weeks in recent devotionals When Dead Men Speak and Beyond the Grave at CMADDICT.com, God moves in sovereign and powerful ways far beyond our ability to imagine.

Events of these last weeks have encouraged me to step out more boldly in His steps. It’s a fearsome thing to follow behind the Savior, knowing all He gave up to answer His Father’s call. But it’s more frightening to remain in the shadows of my faith, where fear rules the night.

Come with me, my friends. Let’s push aside the stumbling blocks that have kept us from being all God has called us to be. We can serve with joy, knowing our struggles are not in vain. He is still “the blessed Controller of all things.”

Do you know someone who takes care of a loved one?

Can you imagine how hard it is for them to make it through another day?

You can help! I still need people to join my team for the launch of my new book, Out from the Shadows: 31 Devotions for Weary Caregivers. You don’t need special skills or a great social media following to help. Just read my previous post (click here) and pick 5 ideas there or send me 5 of your own ideas and you’re on the team. There will be a drawing for a Kindle Paperwhite e-reader in March for those who become team members. E-mail me at thesong2008@live.com and put “Influencer Request” in the subject line. Thanks!

What They Didn’t Tell Us

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Until our nineteen-year-old son broke his neck in a fall in the summer of 1997, we knew little about spinal cord injuries. His break was very high, and the chance of his survival was bleak. Since he was injured during a trip to Canada and we live in the United States, it was a difficult journey to join him at the hospital. When we were able to get to his bedside, we found him totally paralyzed from the neck down and attached to life support.

Grim-faced doctors told us the many challenges Kevin faced:

  • He would never breathe or move again below his neck or possibly his shoulders.
  • He would need round-the-clock care.
  • He would certainly suffer from a host of complications such as pneumonia, blood clots, and urinary tract infections.
  • He could never live at home again. He couldn’t even return to the United States because no airline would accept him in his condition, no doctor would sign to receive him, no medical team would accompany him on the flight, and the cost to fly him home would be prohibitive.
  • He could not stay in Canada.

For our son, and for us, the situation seemed hopeless. One doctor was angry when we resisted a push for euthanasia.

What most of the doctors didn’t tell us was that their predictions weren’t written in stone. Yes, Kevin did suffer from pneumonia in the beginning weeks. Urinary tract infections have been a continuing challenge for Kevin. And yes, he needs round-the-clock care.

But none of the rest of it happened.

People, churches, and organizations in Canada soon learned of his injuries and rallied to his cause. Within a week, Kevin was flown back to the United States in a chartered Lear jet, accompanied by a volunteer medical team – the entire cost paid by donations.

He was received into a hospital close to home and later released to a rehabilitation hospital.

As his body came out of spinal shock, he began to regain function and feeling, stunning the doctors and therapists. This healing would continue for several years.

What no one told us was that one day Kevin would breathe again on his own, walk with help, and return home to rebuild his life. Although he remains mostly disabled, he has movement and feeling in most of his body. He only uses the ventilator at night to sleep.

In the years since his injury, he has built a computer 3-D graphics studio with his brother and founded a popular Christian music website. He lives each day with faith and trust and without complaint.

No one told us that caring for him would bring us such joy. No one explained how much his life would enrich us, or how much we would learn about courage in the process. Certainly these years have been hard. But when I see Kevin laughing and chasing his nieces around in his wheelchair, or taking his dog for a walk, or working with press agents and music companies and complicated animation software, I am reminded of all the beauty they never told me to expect.

They never told us to have hope.

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