I am sitting in our new “tiny home” listening to the rhythm of PenDell’s breathing while he peacefully sleeps. He has had a couple of BIG days. For anyone familiar with brain injury you know that change is traumatic.

So, yesterday, we moved from Swedish Medical Center in Denver to Northern Colorado Rehabilitation Hospital in Loveland. Before leaving, a nurse from the oncology floor pushed him in a wheelchair and we went up to the neuro floor, where we had spent seven weeks, to say goodbye to those who had cared for us and had become part of our journey. There were many tears and much laughter as PenDell rose to the occasion and brought joy to everyone just through being himself, even though he truly didn’t know remember anything or anyone. He just went with what I told him about the care that had been administered and he was grateful, gracious, kind and funny. What he didn’t know is that just the sight of him awake and communicating at all brought so much joy to the many who had offered us so much.

Then we went back down to the oncology floor where the transport EMTs were already waiting patiently for us. When the nurses were preparing to move him from the chair to the gurney, he called out, “I need Melanie!” I said, “I am right here” and he said, “I need MY Melanie!” He is experiencing a range that stretches from high-functioning thought all the way to not knowing his own name.

We said goodbye to this new group of wonderful ones who had come to care for us and we went down to the ambulance that would carry him north to Loveland to the Rehab hospital. I kissed him goodbye and went to our car. Before I left the hospital, I got one last bulletproof and said goodbye to the lovely crew at the coffee shop that had become my morning meditation spot.

I drove north in… joy, tears, the unknown, relief, recognizing the deep journey I was leaving and opening to the deep journey I was greeting, bliss, grief… what a range of feeling and non-feeling.

I arrived at the rehab and was greeted by Andrew at the front desk who said, “We are so glad you are back!” Then one-by-one those who had cared for us in the two times that we were here earlier in the journey – nurses, aides, doctors, therapists, housekeepers, kitchen staff – came up to me and expressed how glad they were to see us and to know now that he is recovering. They had remembered us, thought of us, prayed for us and hoped with us.

I got to PenDell’s room and he had been admitted and we went off to lunch. He wasn’t very
interested in food but was definitely interested in the pen on the table. He took a napkin and wrote his full name with the pen. Then he wrote the month and the date (he didn’t quite get it but he was close). Then he started writing. I am not sure what it all means but I am saving it because I suspect it does have meaning!

When we got back to the room, I saw that he was a bit agitated so I talked with him about where we are and why we are here. He told me that he wanted to go home. I replied that we would go home when he was strong enough to walk again.

His sister also arrived last night.

The changes were challenging. It was scary, confusing, intense, over-stimulating, tiring. He was agitated and restless when it was time to sleep. I climbed in next to him and held him. He calmed down and was able to get some sleep. Not all night but some.

Today, he was evaluated by speech therapy, occupational therapy and physical therapy. The physical therapist took him (us) to the gym and had him standing and walking with the parallel bars! PenDell’s sister, Sharon; Erin, who had arrived shortly before; and I all stood there with tears streaming down our faces! He walked the full length of the bars, which took heroic effort, he sat down in the chair, he threw his arms up in the air and proclaimed, “I can go home”! Of course, he was taking literally what I had said earlier… I am learning.

He did so much today, he is communicating so much more effectively, he is growing stronger by the minute. He is a warrior.

There is so much external stimulation here and so much internal stimulation happening in him… he was exhausted and asleep by 7:30 tonight.

Tomorrow is another day, another day on our journey.

I am ever grateful to each of you for holding us, loving us, supporting us in so many ways – thank you, thank you, thank you.