Walk, Talk, and Eat

 

On the way home last night, the kids and I set some goals for Isaac.  We decided that when he can walk, talk, and eat, he will be able to come home (and the doctors agree.)  Levi says this is a good idea because that's only three things (and I agree.)

I was talking with Daisy about things we have learned through this experience, and trying to explain that compassion is one of the purposes of trials.  Then I had a surprise visitor today that illustrated perfectly what I was trying to describe. 

 Before today, we were strangers, but not anymore. This is my new friend Julie, and both of us are more photogenic than we appear in this self shot.  Julie's son had a heart transplant this summer.  They spent 110 days at this hospital.  Their story can be found Facebook at "Zack's Big Little Heart."  When Julie came across our story, she decided to come by for a visit.  I so enjoyed talking with her.  She had so much perspective to offer, and knows (to an extent that I hope never to attain) the vast spectrum of emotions and difficulties that come with having a sick child, and having to spend so much time here at the hospital, away from other children.  Her selfless gesture and open initiative reminded me of the kind of person I want to be.  I want to be the kind of person that actually goes and does what the Spirit prompts me to go and do.  It is a lesson we learn from the prophet Nephi.  Rather than intend and ignore, Nephi, and Julie, go and do.  One of the things I have learned from this experience is to be more like Julie.

 Just as Julie was leaving, it was time to take Isaac down for his next procedure.  He continues to have pockets of infected fluid.  His empyema is loculated, meaning that the fluid is more difficult to access and drain. 

 Another chest tube was placed right where the fluid is in an effort to get it out of there for good.  I took this picture just as Isaac was going under sedation before they had me leave the room.  This is the fourth hole in his left side.  (Side note:  The procedure room is all done up like the Jazz locker room.  It is very very cool.)

 He looked awful when they brought him out of recovery.  His eyes were swollen and he was grunting and sweaty.  I just wanted to wheel him out the door and take him home and promise him that I wouldn't let them do anything else to him.  Instead we got in the elevator and went back to the Surgical Unit. 

I laid by him when we got back in his room.  I asked him if he wanted me to sing to him.  He nodded his head.  (This was him answering a question I had asked him!  This was a HUGE step!)  He fell asleep and his little body relaxed next to mine.  I laid by his little body and counted my many blessings.  How thankful I am for the miracles of modern medicine.  How thankful I am for the brilliant minds and diligent work ethic of the expert medical staff here.  I can't even begin to express the depth of my gratitude (and I can't even think about it without crying) for all of the prayers and service being offered for our family during this difficult time.  I am truly amazed at the goodness of so many selfless people.  Your help is what is getting us through this.  Your prayers are what carry us from day to day.  Your generosity makes all the difference in the world to our family.  Each day after our morning routine I read through your comments and posts and it gives me the strength to get through one more day of the emotional tsunami and mental exhaustion that I face here.  The words of the primary song say, "He hears and answers me when I pray in faith."  Isaac's progress is a testimony of that very truth.  Prayers have been heard and answered.  I feel it constantly in this place of miracles.