One Year

I don't have much of an update, though I'm sure many of you are itching to know how we are doing.

For anyone not following along on my social media, Brian experienced his first seizure earlier this month. Luckily the nurse was in the room, it only lasted 3 minutes (anything longer than 5 minutes can be very scary and problematic). After it was over, all of his vitals returned to stable, but we took him to the emergency room to run some tests & imaging to ensure there was not further damage or underlying issues causing the seizures. We arrived at his original trauma hospital at 11am and were back in the rehab hospital by 7pm. I said it before, and I'll say it again - thank GOD we are back in the suburbs where his original team can see him regularly, because they are familiar with his case and he is treated with such care every time we are there. I hate how often I have to learn that (because I'd much rather not have a reason to be in the ER), but if it has to happen, I am always so grateful for the ER staff at Good Samaritan Hospital. They are so attentive, kind, funny, thorough, and sweet. Brian always had a warm blanket, was turned every 2hrs or less, and they made sure I was comfortable, fed, and hydrated. To feel loved every time we are there helps erase the original scary memories I have of that hospital, one year ago. I stood and stared at the room I waited so anxiously in last Feburary. Albeit a blur, I can remember the people in the room, the panic in my chest, the fear that swelled in my throat. 

I could almost see myself sitting there and I wish I could tell her how hard her year was about to be and how amazing people would rally for her and for her husband. How she was about to face her greatest fears and surprise herself. And to keep going. I wish I could tell her it would be ok. But we aren't ok yet. We are both still here though and we are both still fighting. And I am proud of us.

Since Brian's seizure, he has remained stable and has had some of his best, most alert days. His tracking has improved and while his command follow is still inconsistent, it is happening more frequently. His left hand/fingers and arm are moving more often now too. At this point, I would say that we are seeing more things 'disappear' than develop. For example, when he wakes up from sleeping, it is very peaceful. He used to wake up and his muscles would tighten and turn into extensor tone. It would take a long time to relax him from that tone, but now he wakes up very 'normal.' He manages his saliva very well and is regaining a lot of head/neck control (that is always improving). He also is making a lot of sounds, and loud ones at that. I love hearing his voice! Week to week, his progress fluctuates, but his medical team and I agree that he is still moving forward (even though it's painfully slower than we would ever hope).

February 15th came and went, and I know many expected that to be a very hard day. But every day is hard, and every day is just another day forward in Brian's recovery, so I tried not to commemorate the crash or even give the 'anniversary any satisfaction of recognition. I am working hard to keep my focus on Brian's healing & recovery. Thank you to every one that checked on me that day. I was cuddled up next to Brian and very grateful to still see him breathing, because last February 15th could have looked very very different. The limbo is certainly agonizing, life altering, and unimaginable. I ache for, and miss Brian, every second of every day. But how thankful I am to hold onto the hope that he could return to us. 

When sadness does catch up to me, it's always unexpected, unlike the days people might expect me to be in my feelings the most. It sneaks up on me, triggered by literally anything at anytime. It's overwhelming, soul crushing, feels impossibly hopeless. Choosing to have hope is a fierce effort that feels truly like battle. Many times, I have to pull myself out of that pit by reminding myself of God's promises. And because I am human, sometimes even that doesn't soothe the weariness. I struggle a lot. But it often makes me think about the concept of 'promises.' The only relatable thing we have to making such bold promises here on earth, is when we choose to marry a life partner. A vow is our ultimate promise to another. And man, I sure do know that I meant mine to Brian -- so hopefully, a God that is bigger than us all, will keep his to us. Right?

I, Lauren, took this man, Brian William Frank, to be my husband.

To live together in holy marriage. 

To love him.

To comfort him.

To honor him.

To keep him in sickness (and in health).

To be faithful to him as long as we live.

I pray Brian feels my love & comfort. That every effort, every tear shed, every hard day, serves to honor him, as long as we both shall live. And we are alive...

I pray for his conscious fight, because my what a fight that will be. Please Lord, continue to calm my fears, and equip me to keep going. Equip Brian to break through and for his brain to be fully restored. Amen.

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Home Update:

Matt, Gina & the kids are all settled in and we are anxiously waiting for the home modifications for Brian to be completed. We are therefore, still in the rehab hospital and soaking in our days with this amazing nursing and therapy staff while we can <3