One for the Book

Wil was discharged from the hospital on Sunday afternoon. I've been really busy since, sorry for the late update. I'll write more once things calm down here, hopefully by Wednesday. Chase and I are still making hospital run daily to take care of some paperwork issues, picking up medicines, and attending our own appointments. Nothing bad but I'll share more later. Wil is as comfortable as he can hope to be. He's taken to sleeping on the couch because it's much easier to try to log roll from that position and grab a walker. He can walk around the house without an aid of a walker, but I insist that he uses it anyway when I'm not around because his legs are still very weak and those pesky spasms can literally knock him to the ground. He obviously can't bend at the knees or back, and I'm learning to put things up higher so he can reach them. Chase and I were running all over town taking care of stuff and picking up the boys from the kennel yesterday and didn't get home until nearly dinner time. Wil complained that he was dizzy and light-headed and told me that all he had eaten were some animal crackers and cereal bars because those were sitting on the top shelf that he could reach. It was kind of hilarious to watch him directing Chase to pick deli meat out from the bottom drawer in our fridge. With all the practice coming our way, I'm sure we'll get a hang of things very soon.

Before I wrap this up, I would like to especially thank our dear friends who came out to visit Wil at the hospital. Most of Wil's friends were out of town for the week because of a work conference (although they came to see him as soon as they could), which made the hospital silence even more defining. If we were closer to our family, his room would have been the one getting scolded by the nurses for being loud. There would have been parents, grandmas, aunts, uncles, fussing over him, and cousins running around playing tag in the hallway 24-7. But this is our reality of being station overseas. It was a really hard week for him and I can't tell you enough how familiar friendly faces lifted his spirit. One particular family, the Carrolls, has always been there for all of us through the best and the worst of times. Jordan, Buck, and Brady, you are a Godsend! We love you so very much and are so grateful for our friendship. Can't wait until our playdate!

I can no longer post pictures here for some reason, so I guess only slide shows will do for now. When/if things ever calm down, I'll look into fixing it, but enjoy these for now, Grandparents!

Irrational Anger

I'm a pretty emotional person, and my husband will probably tell you that it's some kind of an understatement of the year. I haven't gotten it in me the ability to be upset on the inside while putting up a happy front. I cried in the hospital's cafeteria yesterday because, after a total meltdown during lunch time, Chase looked at me with tears streaming down her face and said "outsyyde (outside), pay (play), syde (slide)?" It breaks my heart that life as she knows it is so turned upside down right now and I can't exactly fix it. I hurts me that she couldn't jump, run, spin, and let out a squeal whenever her little heart desires because we're in the hospital all the time. And it absolutely kills me to know that I couldn't just drop everything, scoop her up in my arms and run her to the nearest playground when that was the only way to fix whatever that's broken in her little world. I know this is not going to last forever, but right now I'm not a very good wife and I'm not a very good mother either. I want to be there 100% for two of my most important people in the world but it's just physically impossible. Chase is not a big fan of our CDC, and I'm afraid that I just reinforce the feeling by rarely ever leaving her there. But 4 hours yesterday were much needed, and so were the other 7 today. She got to be a normal toddler, who got to "pay outsyyde" and shared blocks with her new friends. I got to go to the hospital alone, sit quietly at the edge of my best friend's bed, and rest my head on his chest. We took a quick nap together and I got to really hug him without having to worry about Chase yanking some kind of wire out of something she shouldn't. We watched a movie together, stole each other's lunches, and just hung out. It was incredibly therapeutic, and for the first time this week I didn't want to just curl up at the foot of Chase's crib and go to sleep with her at 7 p.m. The fog in my mind is very slowly lifting, and I'm realizing that I've been carrying around a lot of angst with me. As much as I'm looking forward to Wil's discharge, I'm petrified of home pain management, as it felt like we had just gone to hell and back on that boat. I feel useless and not quite enough all at the same time most days. I'm angry at the universe that we're here again less than two years after the first go round. I know we're not the only people in the world dealing with "big stuff," but it's hard to gain perspective when we're sitting in the middle of it all.

On the day of Wil's surgery, Chase and I were pretty much the only two people left in the surgical waiting room after 2 p.m. Just a few doors down was the waiting area for ICU. There were a few more people in there, and I noticed this older lady, who showered us with a sweet kind smile when she saw the paper airplane experiment Chase and I were conducting in the hallway to kill time. I just assumed that she was a family member of a retiree, until she was on her way out around 4 p.m. and stopped to chat with us. I gathered that she belonged to a local congregation and just spent her whole day sitting in the ICU waiting room and praying for the patients and their families. She asked if she could pray for our little family when she found out that Wil had already been in surgery for nearly 9 hours. She softly took my hand and Chase's and it took all that I had to swallow a hard lump in my throat and not bawl. I was so overwhelmed with anxiety yet deeply touched by the kindness of stranger, whom in that small moment did more for me than she could ever imagine. I felt peace and love and knew in my heart that everything was going to be alright. We exchanged a warm goodbye and literally fifteen minutes later Wil's surgeon came out of the OR with 5 x-rays in his hand declaring the surgery a success. I'm trying very hard to hold on to that feeling the ICU waiting room Angel gave me and keep my mind clear of negative thoughts and feelings. It's a daily, and sometimes hourly, struggle, but I'm trying.

Wil continues to slowly improve. The drainage from the surgery sites came off today and it makes laying down a taddddd bit more comfortable. The swelling in his face is quickly going down and he can see better out of his right eye. He's off the morphine drip but is still heavily depended on the intravenous one that he can get every 6 minutes with a push of a button especially after a walk. We got an all clear to walk down the hall to visit our friend Becky and baby Eli in the next ward. He did well but was most definitely ready to head back and push the morphine button HARD. The biggest challenge is getting back into bed, and today he still needs 2 nurses to help him lay back down after most bathroom breaks. He's pretty nauseated and getting Sofran to combat that so he can eat a little more. And we know no one gets a good night sleep in a hospital, so he's getting something to help with that, too. His surgeon is very pleased with his progress but will let physical therapy and Wil dictate when it's time to part with that adjustable bed.

P.S. I'm talking to you, people we don't know but keep coming back to read about our life (Iowa, Australia, etc., I'm looking at you). My husband is in the hospital and really hurt. Say something nice to him like you wish him a speedy recovery. It's a small price to pay for an admission to our freak show. I did title the post "Irrational Anger," and I'm taking it out on innocent internet bystanders.

This, Too, Shall Pass

I really honestly hate the phrase because it's only stating the obvious, but at this point I'll chant anything to myself to keep it going. Wil was wheeled into the OR yesterday soon after 7 a.m. At noon his surgeon came out and said that the scar tissues from the previous surgery were tremendous and he'd spent the last 4+ hour just trying to free up the nerves that were pressed down by the scar tissues. So it appeared that not only his new herniation was giving him a hard time and causing pain, those scar tissues from last year's surgery were also adding to the discomfort. He told me that he needed 2 more hours for the mechanical part of the surgery, although it wasn't until 4:30 p.m. when I actually saw him stepping out of the OR looking completely drained. There were some hardware issues they had to deal with, which added more time to an already complicated procedure, but all and all the surgery was declared a success as far as his being to accomplish the goals they had set out. We notified the new anesthetist ahead of time of Wil's violent reaction to coming out of anesthesia last year, and they were able to prevent the puke fest repeat. Chase and I left the hospital around 7 p.m. when Wil was moved into a shared room and already getting knocked out by a cocktail of very good drugs. I didn't really realized that we were running on adrenaline fume until this morning after we got to the hospital. Another long day there just seemed impossible, and even the usually chipper Chase was not having any of it. I knew to expect some swelling to Wil's face, because he called to warn me about it practically all night. I kind of took most of his crazy phone calls as drug-induced, and therefore not to be taken seriously, so actually seeing it was rather jarring. Apparently, he had to wear some kind of goggles during the surgery even though he was laying face down the whole time, and the pressure + drugs + unknown allergy made his face look a touch like an elephant man's mug. He also developed a few new allergies to one of the pain medications and the surgical tape adhesive, so he was all itchy and covered in small clear blisters wherever the wire and tape met on his body, which turned out to actually be quite a few spots. The nurses in Landstuhl's 8D are doing a marvelous job staying on top of his pain control and Wil's as comfortable has he can expect to be under this particular circumstance. I'm so tired I'm nodding off typing this, so I'm going to wrap it up here. The bottom line is he's doing well. The boys are at the kennel, and Chase is going to spend 4 hours tomorrow afternoon at the CDC while Wil and I tackle an important physical therapy session. We are exhausted but hopeful. Will update again as soon as I can.

From Wil.

We have talked about the future and we are both scared. This is the first real "career" I have had, and I have had it for 11 years. This is the only thing I have really known. After about 6 years you get sort of institutionalized into the system. I will never get fired, I will always have health care, I will always have a place to live, my family will always be taken care of, I will always have college for free, and many, many more perks that is hard to give up. Man, I could have been a recruiter. I really do love the Army, but I am excited about the future and we shall see where it takes us.
I do plan a trip to http://www.edelweisslodgeandresort.com/ this winter for Uma. She can by all means hit the slopes for a few days while Chase and I relax in the pool, but there will be a day when Chase goes to the child care and I hit the spa for a day. Enjoy those runs honey, cause Im getting an all day massage. Nobody should worry about the whole surgery thing really, Im sure everything will be fine, and yes I will be laid up for a little while but Ill be fine, Really!

First Thoughts on Monday

This is the last full week Wil has before the surgery. I'm both ready for it to come and dreading it all at the same time, as I'm sure he is. On Friday we trekked back to Landstuhl, so the brace shop people could make a minor adjustment to Wil's current back brace (they just ended up giving him a better looking and fitting one). While we were there, they suggested that he should also go ahead and get a measurement done for the brace he was going to need after the surgery. It didn't really hit me what we were in for until I saw what Wil will have to wear. It's basically a solid sheet of clear hard plastic formed into a full upper body cast. He will not be able to sit in it because it runs a bit pass his hips. So it's either standing or laying down for a least 4 weeks, and I'm pretty sure I know what he'll do. I'd like to think that my brain is trying to spare me the anxiety of what's to come by blurring my memory of the last surgery and recovery, much like it does with child birth. I was 7 months pregnant, had a terrible sciatica, and was mostly alone taking care of him and the boys. Our friends kindly took the boys out for us a couple of times and dropped off dinners that saved us from yet another take out, but mostly it was just us four all cramped together on that mattress I dragged out from the guest room to the living room. Thankfully, the surgery was relatively small, in comparison to this one, and he was able to walk around the house unaided after coming home from the hospital. It was mentally and emotionally draining all the same having to watch My Rock be in so much pain. That's why when he felt good enough to fix our fence, for the 7th time, on Saturday, I didn't try to stop him. He needed to be the man of the house and take care of us, plus, let's face it, the polezei might just take my kids away if they get out one more time. We have talked about our fears and worries, and I'm trying my best to push them out of my head because this time around there's no room for woe-is-me moments. I've got a baby, a house, two mutts who think fencing is a personal challenge, and a husband who will have to endure a 10-hour surgery that will result in him in a body cast for at least 4 weeks afterward. I've got 8 days to psych myself up for all of it. Already told him that after all is over and done with, I'm going skiing while he mans our homestead and unruly children.

Medically-Induced OCD?

There's one medicine that Wil takes that is like a miracle drug. It eliminates his leg pain and allows him to be able to walk and stand and sit upright. The upsides are obvious. Our nosy neighbors probably don't even suspect that anything is wrong when they see him hopping in and out of a driver's seat of our car like it's nothing. He's able to drive himself around now because he feels so great on this particular med that he doesn't have to take any of the narcotics that our livelihood depended on last week. Since last Friday, when he first started the medicine, Wil's been a busy nesting bee. The house is always cleaned and orderly and there's never a basket of dirty laundry to speak of. Let me tell you that is not anywhere in the realm of normal in this house. We have a toddler who has a tornado effect on anything and everything in her path, but you probably will never be able to tell because her father is practically walking behind her picking up whatever piece of toy she just tosses. It was nice for a few days when I didn't have to lift a finger to do anything around the house, but it became obvious quickly that something was not quite right with my live-in Martha Stewart. During the day Wil was just all too chipper and hyper for someone wearing a back brace and he would stay up nearly all night reorganizing the pantry and our storage area in the basement. He does all of these things with a crazy high in his eyes. I think he just dismissed me as being over reactive when I woke up and started loudly screaming at him for moving an armoire up from the basement and our hallway bench downstairs--all by himself--while the rest of us were asleep. This is a man who couldn't stand on his own feet just a week ago, mind you. He finally realized that something was off while he was at the food court by himself yesterday and kept adjusting his food tray and its liner because they weren't exactly at 90˚. As it turns out, the medicine, which is often used to treat Obsessive Compulsive Disorder amongst many other things, can actually cause a user, who does not have the condition, to start exhibiting symptoms of OCD and become hyperactive. How do you like that predicament? He spoke to his 1SG, who was prescribed the same med a while ago for his back issue, and he told Wil that, while he was on the medicine, he took to wallpaper a room and dug a new space to hide all the wires and pipes in one night. I'm going to hide all the paint and brushes just in case. Oh, one more thing. He had a rather unpleasant test done in Urology on Tuesday to reveal that the nerve damage from his back issue is affecting his bladder control. This is not entirely a surprise, although I really don't want to find out anymore what other organs are also affected and not doing so hot. This surgery can't come soon enough.

I don't like that our blog just gets more depressing with each update, so here's a video to offset that. Chase spotted this hat while we were at a baby flea market, and she immediately snatched it and refused to remove it from her head. I'm not sure what the fascination was but it's worth more than a quarter or two we spent on it to keep her happy while I sorted through boxes of new-to-her clothes. Last night as we were getting her ready for bed, she saw the hat in her dresser and started running around the house with it. And her first nickname, Chimpy Chase, should have prepared us for her turning every single thing in the house into a jungle gym, but it really doesn't. She's literally inches away from being able to reach our chandelier once she climbs up on the dinning room table. And to think that I was ever worried about my late-walker child. For some reason, I just can't post pictures right now, and it looks like it's a known Blogger issue. Grandmas take note--I tried.

A Wave of Crazy from UMA STEINHAUER on Vimeo.

Party Pooper

We didn't dress Chase up for Halloween this year. Seriously, at this age, it's really for the parents, isn't it? I have no desire to deal with keeping a bucket of candy away from Chase and fighting a possible tantrum, so I didn't feel entirely too bad about it. I didn't grow up Trick-or-Treating and believed that we just had ourselves 2 full weeks of plenty of horror and nightmares, so when Wil actually felt good enough to take over the house work and the care of the Mutt, I was more than happy to just hang out around the house and fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the day instead of braving the cold and having to concoct a last minute costume. There were some German kids that came around asking for candy, which we were going to buy had we actually made it to the grocery store today, so I suggested that Wil passed out clementines instead. He looked at me like I was nuts, but I would be more than thrilled if someone gave Chase a piece of fruit next year instead of just another piece of candy. Ok, let's talk about the kids for a minute. What is up with the teenagers who are not even dressed up and running around pestering neighbors for candy? Since we are in Germany, where Trick or Treat is not a tradition (as also in Thailand), there were relatively few coming around knocking on our door. But most of them were not in costumes and just there for the candy? How lame!

So an update on Wil's condition? Since it's 6 o'clock here and I just really want to take a quick nap before the baby rises for the day, I'll just tell you the short version of it. If you are following us on Facebook, you already know what happened (yes, Mom, it's a hint for you to get a FB account, so I can finally ditch the blog). After a slight arm twisting from neurosurgery, the OR people finally decided that they could actually open up a surgery date for Wil instead of footing $700/day for inpatient care for nearly two months. His surgery is set for November 17th, and it will be a marathon of a day. That was the biggest problem--to find a day when the OR was completely free because his surgery will start early in the morning and will not end until nearly early evening. It's scary but we're beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Our dear friend Geoff, who just had a back surgery himself recently, suggested a drug for Wil to try that had worked well for him, and what do you know!?! After being on it for only 2 days, he was able to walk, with a help of a back brace, like a normal human being and was mostly back to his old self again. He felt so great he cleaned the whole house (and vacuumed the ceiling!), did the laundry, and took care of the baby, while I feebly put up a relatively weak protest from the comfort of the couch just before snoozing off pretty much all day. We were going to meet with our friends for Trunk or Treat in Sembach, but I didn't want to interrupt his cleaning madness. He said it felt great to actually be useful and do something around the house, who was I to argue otherwise?