Wild Weekend

Well, it's all relative, isn't it? Our wild weekend meant we spent Saturday night at our apartment--the place we'll move into when Seth becomes an outpatient. Our outpatient apartment is in Building 62 (the military is so creative with its building titles . . .), which is a new facility built exclusively for wounded warriors. It is new, beautiful and bigger than it should be--meaning, I wish we didn't need to house so many of these guys.

Seth missed his hospital bed, but he did OK getting himself in and out of bed and around the place in his wheelchair. We took an exploratory walk across the installation and saw several white-tailed deer. We watched the BYU-Utah game (using "game" generously). Today we mostly lounged around and headed back to the hospital this evening. Seth couldn't wait to get back to his comfy bed; I dreaded returning.

Seth's plethora of prescriptions

The most intimidating thing about our foray into our future outpatient life was all the medications, including his blood thinner, which is given by injection. Three syringes were in our bag of prescriptions--no one showed us how to give an injection and neither of us was about to try, so he missed today's injection.

eating our first meal in our new place

We both had quite a bit of anxiety about being on our own, but it went well and made me look forward to next weekend. There is a chance Seth will be fully outpatient by then.

the view from our window

The Swing of the Pendulum

Seth in Bill and Sally's "Blue Moon"

I'm not going to lie. Yesterday was a terrible, rotten, no-good day--until it wasn't. Let's just say that a bunch of emotionally stressed and fragile people, by late afternoon, pulled their wits about them and went out for dinner at a fancy restaurant--Seth's first trip in a car and off the hospital grounds.

Seth, Brett, Grandpa and Grandma Newman

We went to Morton's Steakhouse in the Bethesda Hyatt Regency Hotel, which was as upscale a restaurant as I've ever been in. I joked with Seth about the irony that he'd been a bit self-conscious about venturing forth with all his "oddities" (namely, the Taylor spatial frame, the still-beef jerky looking skin graft and the fact he has no clothes to wear other than gym shorts and T-shirts), and here he brought us to a restaurant where we would probably feel self-conscious without any additional oddities!

We were joined by Grandma and Grandpa Newman, their last evening before they head home, and, not pictured, my cousin Rick and his wife, Anne (heretofore known as the bringers of fresh peaches).

I guess all's well that ends well?

Farewell to the Fixator

The removal of the pelvic external fixator was successful. Yay!!! Seth's surgery this morning was his quickest yet (about an hour), and he didn't require any extra pain medication throughout the day. He slept until about 4:00 p.m. and woke up hungry for wings, hungry enough to eat 14!

Let the rehab begin . . . Honestly, something I haven't mentioned is that his occupational and physical therapists started working with him in the SICU, if you can imagine that. The people who work with the wounded warriors are as amazing as the wounded warriors.

Ex the Ex

Tomorrow, Tuesday Sept 13, is a big day. Seth is scheduled for surgery to revise or remove the external fixator on his pelvis--the goal is removal. The surgeons will remove the screws and then--here's the icky part--stress his pelvis to see if it opens. If it's solid, he's good. If it moves, they put the screws back in. If the ex-fix comes off, he can begin therapy on his right leg. Here's hoping all the protein drinks he's been dutifully drinking have paid off--not to mention the many, many prayers on his behalf.

Here's a shout-out to Harper, Seth's cousin's baby, who is also having a critical surgery tomorrow. We are hoping  and praying for miracles on her behalf as well.

Remembering

I have no profound words to share on this the 10-year anniversary of 9-11, but I can share some events of Seth's day, which are profound testament to goodness.

We were well served today. The Marine Mothers of Bethesda and the Rotary Club sponsored lunch for all the wounded warriors and their families--it was quite a lunch, and there was enough to feed the staff, too!

In addition to lunch, they brought two massage therapists who offered chair massages to caregivers. Seth's grandpa and I were very grateful for the gentle touch--kind of a professional hug.

Which is more goofy looking?

After lunch, some college-aged kids asked if they could visit with Seth. He invited them in, and they presented him with an iPad. Talk about a morale booster. A few minutes later, the founder of iPads for Soldiers came in and told us about their organization http://www.ipadsforsoldiers.org/  He informed us that the young people who presented the iPad to Seth had also raised money for the project.

Later, one of many chaplains here came by with the president of the National Bible Association with a military Bible for Seth. I wish I could say it made the same impression as the iPad, but we were grateful for their visit, kind words and convictions.

Last, the LDS missionaries came by and had a devotional with us, which I appreciated since I haven't been to church in over two months.

So, that was our 9-11. We were the recipients of the kindnesses of many, many people--some we've met; most we never will. This gives me great hope and great peace that good will prevail over evil--and that those who lost their lives on that day and since that day did not die in vain.

Miracles in the MATC

Every weekday, Seth visits the Military Athletic Training Center (MATC) for physical and occupational therapy.We see miracles every visit--guys with every imaginable combination of amputations walking, running, lifting weights, etc. On Wednesday, we saw Bryan try out his new legs. Most guys start with short legs to help learn balance. Not Bryan. He got the 6-foot legs right off the bat.





We also got to see our "boots on the ground"--Tom and El who used to bring cookies, hugs and friendship every Tuesday and Thursday at the old Walter Reed Medical Center. The new WRNMMC is a little stringent in vetting volunteers, so Tom and El haven't been able to visit the wards, but they found that they can show up in the MATC without a problem. Tom lost both legs in 1952 in the Korean War. El was his physical therapist--and the rest is history.



Another small miracle happened today after Seth's appointment in the MATC. The wound care nurse Leslie came to dress his wounds. As we visited with her, she told us that her brother is a double amputee who was injured two years ago today. He had internal injuries very similar to Seth's. She told Seth how they all resolved--in one way or another--and that he now skis almost full time for the para-Olympic cross-country team. I think it did Seth good to hear about the similarities in their injuries; I know it did me good.

It is still a fight. We learned yesterday that some issues that we thought would be resolved in a few weeks will probably take months. Seth is again receiving huge doses of antibiotics to fight off nasty infections that are common in Afghanistan vets and hospital patients in general.

Grandma and Grandpa Newman arrived today; aunt Linda leaves tomorrow. We are so grateful for familiar faces!

Slim Jims and Sergeant Majors

Seth's skin grafts have all taken, so they are no longer bandaged. When Bryan Dilberian saw him at PT, he said, "Pack, I hate to say it, but your leg looks like a Slim Jim." We couldn't argue; it's true.


Yesterday was a quiet Labor Day made significant by a visit from Command Sergeant Major Cook who is on leave from Afghanistan. His Cavalry division works side by side with the 10th Mountain Division 1/32 Infantry of which Seth was a part. He came to greet the injured soldiers from both divisions.

He wanted to let Seth and me know how proud we should all be of him. Seth acted bravely, putting mission before self and putting himself in the path of the enemy. CSM Cook recounted the successes of both divisions and statistics about these two divisions taking much of the brunt of the fighting. Their main goal is to prevent the Taliban from having access to and control of a main road through Afghanistan. Whoever controls the road controls the economy of the country. According to Sergeant Major, Seth's and his units have done well pushing the enemy back and keeping the road secure.

Sergeant Major was nervous to visit the soldiers and wondered how their families would react to him. Well, this mom, for one, was very grateful to hear a rough and tumble Army guy praise my son and his bravery. The Sergeant Major also said IEDs are a chicken*** way to fight and that so-called "suicide vests" should instead be called "murder vests." He gave us insight and information that we won't get elsewhere, and it heartened me.

Many people since we've been here have called Seth brave, and, at least once, he questioned whether this is true. I told him that just putting on a uniform is brave; it identifies him as a target and makes him accountable for his every action. This enemy doesn't haven't the guts to wear a uniform and has been known to hide behind women and children. Seth went out on patrol knowing full well he may find an IED or come across the enemy face to face. I don't know what is not brave about that.

And now when he drags his metal-encased leg out of bed into the wheelchair to go to PT when he knows it will hurt and push him to his limit, he is being brave all over again.






Random Revelation
Vanity does not die in the face of tragedy. Five people (including the sergeant major) have thought I was Seth's girlfriend or wife. I can't say how Seth felt about that, but it made me feel pretty darn good.