The expression about March coming in like a lion didn’t disappoint. No siree, Bob. For the sake of (faking) organization, I’ll begin with what I perceive is the least annoying and finish with what is perhaps a matter of life-or-death.
Hoyer Lift. This is the battery-powered mechanical lift I use to move Ryan throughout the day. For example, I use it first thing in the morning to get him from bed and into his chair. Other uses are to place him in and out of the HBOT, transfer him to and from the exercise table, and in and out of the shower chair. I use it often throughout the day. It might be the one piece of equipment I rely on the most. Without warning, it stopped working. The battery wouldn’t take or hold a charge. Worse yet, Ryan was in it at the time. This, my friends, is what one calls a predicament. Fortunately, I have a manual lift in storage that I brought down (from the immaculately organized garage). It will work for the time being, but it requires one of my hands to be away from Ryan to pump the hydraulics in order to raise and lower Ryan.
- Forearm. After a full year the x-Rays show it’s still not entirely healed. The ulna (larger of the two bones) has an area that still hasn’t joined. I’ll consult with an orthopedic surgeon, but I just feel like this has gone on entirely too long. Perhaps it can be repaired in the same way as the femur (titanium rod)?
Greenfield IVC Filter. This is an umbrella looking device that was surgically placed within a week or two of the beating. In fact, Ryan was still at Ruby Memorial Hospital in Morgantown. It’s positioned in the inferior vena cava, which is just above the junction of the two main veins that come from each leg. It’s sole purpose is to catch any blood clots that break free from reaching the heart. Anyhow, we had a CT scan done last week of Ryan’s pelvis and abdomen to see if we could find a cause of his frequent urinary tract infections, not even thinking about this filter. The images showed that this filter is positioned incorrectly. We are getting the images from Ruby to see if it’s always been that way, but it doesn’t change the fact that it is now a problem that must be remedied as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter if it’s always been a problem (that we didn’t know about). The fear is it will eventually puncture the vein and cause massive and rapid internal bleeding. This could be fatal.
I remember when we were in Shepherd Center (Atlanta) the December following the attack. Sue and I were sitting in the corner of the dimly lit ICU room #6. Ryan just had another major setback that nearly cost him his life. Sue looked at me and asked, “When does this ever end”? I specifically recall not answering her. Mainly because I’m not prone to fibbing. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay… eventually, but I realized it just might never. It could go on-and-on, like a hellish version of the movie Groundhog Day. A life of stressful days we are damned to repeat, without relenting. So, I told her exactly what I said on the morning of the attack when Ryan was clinging to life, more dead than alive.
“We got this”.