Thursday, March 31, 2011

The book My Stroke of Insight, by Jill Bolte Taylor, is one that all of Trevor's friends and family should consider reading. It's about the eight-year recovery of a brain scientist who goes through a serious stroke. Sounds boring, I know, but it does a great job of explaining what the patient is going through, even when they can't express their feelings.

According to Taylor, here are 40 things brain injury patients need us to understand most during their recovery:

"1. I am not stupid, I am wounded. Please respect me.

2. Come close, speak slowly, and enunciate clearly.

3. Repeat yourself—assume I know nothing and start from the beginning, over and over.

4. Be as patient with me the 20th time you teach me something, as you were the first.

5. Approach me with an open heart and slow your energy down. Take your time.

6. Be aware of what your body language and facial expressions are communicating to me.

7. Make eye contact with me. I am in here—come find me. Encourage me.

8. Please don't raise your voice—I'm not deaf, I'm wounded.

9. Touch me appropriately and connect with me.

10. Honor the healing power of sleep.

11. Protect my energy. No talk radio, TV, or nervous visitors! Keep visitation brief (five minutes).

12. Stimulate my brain when I have any energy to learn something new, but know that a small amount may wear me out quickly.

13. Use age-appropriate (toddler) educational toys and books to teach me.

14. Introduce me to the world kinesthetically. Let me feel everything. (I am an infant again.)

15. Teach me with monkey-see, monkey-do behavior.

16. Trust that I am trying—just not with your skill level or on your schedule.

17. Ask me multiple-choice questions. Avoid Yes/No questions.

18. Ask me questions with specific answers. Allow me time to hunt for an answer.

19. Do not assess my cognitive ability by how fast I can think.

20. Handle me gently, as you would handle a newborn.

21. Speak to me directly, not about me to others.

22. Cheer me on. Expect me to recover completely, even if it takes twenty years!

23. Trust that my brain can always continue to learn.

24. Break all actions down into smaller steps of action.

25. Look for what obstacles prevent me from succeeding on a task.

26. Clarify for me what the next level or step is so I know what I am working toward.

27. Remember that I have to be proficient at one level of function before I can move on to the next level.

28. Celebrate all of my little successes. They inspire me.

29. Please don't finish my sentences for me or fill in words I can't find. I need to work my brain.

30. If I can't find an old file, make it a point to create a new one.

31. I may want you to think I understand more than I really do.

32. Focus on what I can do rather than bemoan what I cannot do.

33. Introduce me to my old life. Don't assume that because I cannot play like I used to play that I won't continue to enjoy music or an instrument, etc.

34. Remember that in the absence of some functions, I have gained other abilities.

35. Keep me familiar with my family, friends, and loving support. Build a collage wall of cards and photos that I can see. Label them so I can review them.

36. Call in the troops! Create a healing team for me. Send word out to everyone so they can send me love. Keep them abreast of my condition and ask them to do specific things to support me—like visualize me being able to swallow with ease or rocking my body up into a sitting position.

37. Love me for who I am today. Don't hold me to being the person I was before. I have a different brain now.

38. Be protective of me but do not stand in the way of my progress.

39. Show me old video footage of me doing things to remind me about how I spoke, walked, and gestured.

40. Remember that my medications probably make me feel tired, as well as mask my ability to know what it feels like to be me."
(Taylor, 193-196)

I think, but obviously have no idea, that the majority of these are extremely applicable to Trevor's recovery. To me, one of the most crucial ones is the 21st. He absolutely hates being spoken down to, or babied. He's a grown-ass man for goodness sake! So don't act like he's not there and don't talk to us like he can't understand you. Because he can. He gets it.

Also, the 37th. Trevor may not be the snowboarding party animal that he used to be, and I hope to God that he isn't, but that doesn't mean we can't appreciate him for the person he is. Don't encourage him to do anything that will kill anymore brain cells; he doesn't have any to spare at this point. Enjoy the time you have with him. Watch a movie with him. Talk to him about your day. But don't talk about how you're going to go snowmobiling and to the bar when he's better.

There's no way any of us can know exactly what's best for Trevor, but it seems like Dr. Taylor has it spot-on...

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Alright, I revoke everything I said in the last post...

Trevor can now get our attention by saying something other than, "no." Last night, my mom was in the bathroom and Trevor yelled, "Mom, tissue!" She immediately came out and handed him a tissue. But he got frustrated and yelled, "No!" So she asked him what he wanted. Again, he yelled, "No!" After a few minutes of playing the 'Guess what in God's name Trevor wants' game, she figured out that he didn't want a tissue, he wanted the TV on.

Today, while eating a melted Reese's egg, I got chocolate all over my fingers. I asked Trevor if he wanted some. About a minute later he said, "Uh Alyssa" and then mumbled something. Not understanding, I asked, "Huh?" He replied, "Gross!"

It is extremely difficult to figure out what Trevor wants at any given time. He gets frustrated, and so do we. The main thing I have learned in college is that communication is a two-way street, and it cannot be effective unless both parties are communicating equally. What we have here is one-way communication. We can talk to him and he can understand what we are saying, but he cannot express his feelings. It's absolutely miserable for everyone, and I am so sick of this. I want more than anything for my brother to be able to know and say what's on his mind.

Here is an example of this: We went down to the cafeteria to get a snack the other day. We ask Trevor if he wants ice cream. "Nope." We ask if he's sure. He gets really frustrated and yells, "No!" We checkout, he gets mad, says "no" firmly and reverses his wheelchair back into the cafeteria. We ask if he wants something else to eat. He sighs out of frustration and wheels back through the checkout. He gets a spoon and yells "no" again. I ask if he wants some of my ice cream. "No! No! No!" I ask if he's sure. He yells, "Noooo!" and puts the spoon back. We ask if he wants something else. He says "no" and grabs the spoon again. We push him back over to the ice cream. He yells, "No!" We ask if he wants another cup to share my ice cream. "No!" Then he grabs a cup, I pour some of my ice cream into his cup, he says, "alright" and eats it. Man, it would be really awesome to be psychic right now..

However, when Trevor's not thinking and not frustrated, he does exponentially better with speech. I'm no doctor but I think it's because his speech is so impulsive that if he thinks, it messes up the connection between his brain and mouth. He was sitting in bed and I asked him if he wanted to come to my house and help me move my furniture. He shrugged (with only his left shoulder of course) and said, "Nah." I asked why not. He replied, "Don't want to." If only it was that easy every time!

Now back to yesterday. Sorry I'm a day behind on these updates but hey, I'm only one woman...

Trevor went in for surgery to get his vena cava filter removed. I pray to God that this is his last surgery he ever has to go through. There's nothing more terrifying and nerve-racking than sitting in that stupid waiting room, shaking in our boots, waiting for my brother (who has been through more surgeries than anyone should ever have to go through).

But apparently it was a quick and easy surgery, and everything went great. Describing the surgery, the nurse literally said, "It was no brain surgery." We went back to the recovery room and Trevor was all smiley and loopy from the drugs. It was incredibly relieving that he wasn't unconscious or in pain again.

After Trevor slept for a few hours to recover, we went on a therapy outing to the University Union, where we were going to play pool. While getting ready to go, my mom asked him if he wanted a sweatshirt. He got mad, probably because he's a 'grown ass man' and yelled something along the lines of, "Blad Quall!!" You tell her, Trev!

I was amazed at how easily Trevor lifted himself from the wheelchair into the van. He got in trouble for getting up before the wheelchair's wheels were locked and snapped back "Welp, my bad!"

Pool was definitely an interesting choice for someone who can barely move the right side of their body. We spent the entire two hours trying to figure out a way Trevor could use the cue with only one arm, which turned out to be impossible. He would scoot himself around the table in his wheelchair, reposition the stick for a few minutes and then finally take his turn, moving the ball only a few inches in the wrong direction. It's crazy the things we take for granted in life...

According to the doctor, Trevor's right arm may be more affected than his right leg, which makes sense based on his brain injury. However, Novacaine, the medicine they shot Trevor's right leg up with, may not initiate movement in his right arm. He sounded really doubtful that any progress is going to occur. In other words, Trevor's right arm isn't moving on its own, and it may never do so.

As of right now Trevor's scheduled release date is April 12th. To be honest, I don't know if this is a good or bad thing. I know that Trevor and the rest of us are all sick of this place and ready to get the heck out, but I don't know how ready we are to handle him on our own...

Monday, March 28, 2011

I think Trevor's been watching a little too much Jersey Shore because his duck-face is freakishly on point. I told him to look sad for this photo because I was trying to convince people to come visit us. Fail on both of our accounts. Anyways...

Back to Trevor's first rodeo: I don't know if 'Alyssa' or 'Payton' were too hard for him to remember or if he had some sort of personal issue with saying them, but he refused to call us by our real names. He would only refer to me as 'Whore' or 'Fatass' and Payton as 'Puke Master Flex.' I'd like to believe these nick-names were his own special terms of endearment. However, during this rodeo, it's a-whole-nother story. Trevor has no way of addressing any of us by anything. He has no way of getting anyone's attention in any way that makes sense. I think at this point I would be A-OK with him calling me any vulgarity he wants to rather than just saying, "No, no, no" all the time.

Here are a few semi-interesting things that happened during this uneventful weekend:

Trevor had the most fun session of therapy thus far on Friday. He got to play wheelchair basketball during recreational therapy. He was backing into walls and bumping into the therapist like crazy, but smiling and laughing the entire time. Looks like we're going to have to sign him up on a league!

Trevor now waves at people passing in the hallway. Seems like a ridiculous thing to get excited about but hey, at least he's finding some way to communicate!

Whenever we take the elevator to go anywhere, we always make Trevor press the button. Every single time, whether we're going up or down, he presses the up button first. Must be some sort of crazy brain injury impulse. Once the elevator doors open, we back him into the elevator. He pushes himself backwards as fast and hard as he can in order to plow us over and push us into the wall. He thinks it's hilarious; I think he's a brat.

Here's a few conversations that went down this weekend...

Sondi: Trevor, can you say Libby?
Trevor: No.
Sondi: Can you say Sondi?
Trevor: No.
Libby: Can you say Amazing?
Trevor: Amazing.

He totally plays games with people just to bring their confidence down. Poor, poor Sondi!

Lauren: Did you get into the van yourself?
Trevor: My friend is train.

Me: Trev, we're going to Taco Bell. What do you want?
Trevor: Uhhhh. Nope.
Me: Nothin?
Trevor: Thingerdillas.
Me: Thingerdillas, huh?
Trevor: [Laughs]

Doctor: What's the date, Trevor?
Trevor: January 10th.

Mom: What sweatshirt do you want?
Trevor: [Stubbornly] I don't care.

Yes! Something he said finally made sense.

Nurse: How ya feelin, Trevor?
Trevor: So well.

I am so proud of my brother, his recovery and most importantly, his grammar. Unlike most college kids, he answered 'how are you?' with 'well', instead of 'good.' That, my friends, is what's up...

Sunday, March 27, 2011

While in Zion this week, I determined that I no longer believe in science. There are too many unbelievably awesome things in this world for science to possibly be the reason behind all of it. I am now a firm believer in magic. This entire world is completely based on magic. Magic is what makes every animal, plant, mountain and river the way it is. Magic is how Trevor has somehow survived two traumatic brain injuries. Magic is the reason life as we know it exists.

Coming back and seeing the progress of all the patients at the U's Inpatient Medical Rehab is proof of this theory. The doctors and therapists here do not practice medicine. They do not practice any form of science. They practice magic. Some sort of crazy miracle happened here this week and I'm not sure how or why...

When I left on Monday, Trevor could barely move his right leg and definitely couldn't walk. When I came back on Friday, Trevor was able to bear weight on his right leg and could walk with hardly any help.

On Monday, a teenage boy who severed his spinal cord during a wrestling match was paralyzed from the neck down, and had been for two months. His family had just spent $40 grand on a wheelchair that he could control with his eyes. On Friday, I walked into the therapy gym and saw him moving his arm with the biggest smile on his face.

A father of four small children got into a car accident, was in a coma for a month and was in a wheelchair unable to walk on Monday. On Friday I saw him walking down the hallway hand-in-hand with his wife.

Earlier this week, a woman who had a stroke five days after giving birth was unable to hold her own baby. I walked past her room on Friday and she was rocking her newborn to sleep.

...Magic!
If you're unsatisfied with the lack of progression in Trevor's speech, here are some quotes from his previous accident to help lighten the mood:

I got a kickass body. Check out my fallopian tubes.

Screw that, I'm not even going to the library if I'm mentally regular.

[Defining homophobia] They usually like just boys and girls but that race only likes one kind of people.

[About spilled water] There's liquids all over the place. How am I supposed to survive?

[Pointing to sushi] I wish they'd have this at Taco Bell.

You never listen to a lady's mother. You guys should've stayed in love.

[To our dog] Bear, go do something important. All you do is lay there and do dumb dog things all day. You can't even come over and give me a hug and kiss when I call your name?

Who am I supposed to spend my life with? I'm much too cool.

Somebody should write a book about me 'cause I'm fantastic.

Trevor: I wanna bring a gorilla to Western's campus.
Goost: You know gorillas maul people, right?
Trevor: Well yeah, but so do alligators!

Walker: Did you hear Gary Coleman died today?
Trevor: Did Travis Pastrana die too? I hope so.

I just need to date a lady that will clip my fingernails.

What's that one animal that lives in the lake? A hillbilly?


I think these go to prove that even though Trevor says some wacky things now, there's a good chance he's going to be just fine...

Saturday, March 26, 2011

To help you better understand where Trevor is as far as speech goes...

He has now said a total of three complete sentences: "I have to pee," "What the f_ck?" and "I want to watch a movie."

The first time, he dragged his right leg off the bed, lifted himself up and put the side-rail down. My mom asked him what he needed. He looked at her like she was dumb and then said matter-of-factly, "I have to pee."

Next, he sat up in bed, mumbled something in Brain-Injurese, immediately looked around embarrassed and said, "What the f_ck?"

Lastly, right before bed, my mom asked him what he wanted to do and gave him a list of options. He replied, "I want to watch a movie."

After each of these miraculous sentences, Trevor kind of looked around like Whoa.. did that really come out right? His speech is very compulsive so everything he says, whether correct or incorrect, takes everyone by surprise.

Trevor is trying as hard as he can to communicate. A lot of times the words do not come out right, but I know that they're in there, that he understands us and that he knows what he wants to say. I am 100% sure that he's going to be fine and that he's eventually going to be able to communicate. It WILL come back. Even though this recovery has taken much longer than the first and even though nobody knows how long it's going to take, we just have to sit around patiently and wait it out. He has so many people rooting for him and I know he's not going to let a single one of you down.

Just breathe, another day.
Another day, just believe.
Another day, I'm used to it by now.
I would like to give a mad shout out to Megan Dennehy, who has proven to be the best friend anyone could ever ask for. No matter how many times I have let her down during this accident, she has stuck around and surprised my family and I with random treats of joy during even the worst of times.

Here is the link to her blog, "All that is right in the world," which you should read to brighten up each and every day. She has a way of finding the little joys in life, and I think we could all take a lesson from that. In today's post, she talks about her and my game of hide-n-seek with Trevor that went horribly wrong, or right....

http://wasatchmeg.blogspot.com/

Friday, March 25, 2011

You know when you see your little relatives for the first time since the previous Christmas and it's like they've grown a foot? That's kind of how I feel about Trevor's progression. I leave for a few days and when I come back it's like Trevor's a whole new person! His progress is unbelievable.

I saw Trevor walk, moving his right foot on his own, for the first time this morning. It was impossible for me to get rid of the perma-smile on my face for the rest of the day. He slightly resembles one of those auto dealership blowup guys with his arms and torso swinging all over the place. I think the best part is seeing all of the therapists watch him with the pride and satisfaction of their patient royally kicking ass!

The recreational therapist asked Trevor if he was answering yes or no questions yet. Trevor said, "nope." She then asked him if he loves his mother. He said, "yes." I haven't seen my mom that stoked in a while...

The therapist then informed us that we're going bowling on Monday and that we would be taking the bus to practice using public transportation. This all sounds jolly except for two things... First off, Trevor has never used public transportation in his life and B. he hates bowling. After the therapist was done explaining the bowling agenda, Trevor looked at her like he was going to say something really important, but all that came out was a bunch of gibberish. He looked at us like "Whoa, what happened?"

The therapist told Trevor, "We can either play a sport or do nothing. What'll it be?" Trevor responded with, "Do something." As the crazies of Utah say, OH MY HECK! A week ago, my brother couldn't answer questions with anything that came close to making sense. Today, he can.

When I showed him pictures from my Zion trip, he looked at them and said, "damn" to each one. I showed him the picture of the cabin I was staying in, and asked if he remembered us begging our parents to buy a "lincoln-log house" when we were younger. He went to ask me a question about the cabin, but "Grandpa, grandpa?" is what came out. He thought it was hilarious. I kind of did too.

Out of everything that has happened through this accident, we're most fortunate for Trevor's great sense of humor. I think if I was unable to say what I was trying to the majority of the time, I would probably be really frustrated and unpleasant. But not Trevor! He just laughs and moves on like a champ...
Thanks to you guys, I'm already one-third of the way to a new MacBook!!

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Thursday, March 24, 2011

Hiking 20 miles in the beautiful canyons of Zion, Utah was a great way to get my mind off things for a few days. During the day my mind was completely clear of my brother who was back at the hospital recovering from six brain surgeries and severe aphasia, apraxia and hemispatial neglect. However, nighttime was a whole different story. All I dreamed about was wheelchairs, rehabilitative therapy and hospital beds. Definitely more of nightmares than dreams!

For only being gone for three days, I sure missed out on a lot. During the drive home from Zion, once I got back into cell service, I read a text from a friend saying, "Did you see the videos your mom posted?" No, of course I didn't. "Oh, they're of Trevor walking on his own." WHAT? My heart dropped. Apparently the prayers are working because Trevor no longer requires somebody to pull his right leg forward for him anymore. He can now walk with just a cane, a shoe on his left foot, a grippy hospital sock on the right and somebody holding onto that pastel gait belt around his waist!

How is he all of the sudden able to do this? Well, after a practice run, the doctors shot him up with Lidocaine in order to numb the muscles in his right leg. Apparently Trevor's two doctors came in, messed around with a bunch of electrodes and a needle, and then the doctor said "OK, now let's inject the other leg." "Why the other leg?" my mom asks. Dr. Elephant (or whatever his name is) replies, "Did you see which leg I put it in? I'm so sorry." Hey, it's cool Doc, everyone makes mistakes! Bad news is Trevor's left leg was unnecessarily numb for a few hours. Good news is I'm pretty sure the doctor will be bending over backwards for Trevor now that he feels so badly about his big uh-oh.

The doctors watched Trevor try, and fail, to walk before this procedure. Then they watched him try, and SUCCEED, afterwards. They looked upon their patient like they had just performed a miracle. And ever since then, he's been able to pull his right leg through and walk with little assistance!!!

Sunday, March 20, 2011

I freaked out when I walked into the room and saw this. The physical therapist bandaged Trevor's arm up and as you can see, it looked like they amputated it. Yup, minor heart attack. But they were just trying to stretch out that muscle and his arm is still there, so it's all good!

The therapist asked him, "Trevor, where are you going tomorrow? You're going to get-?" He responded "sushi." Yup, that's right, he was finally allowed to go on his first outing! And where would they go? Well, to get sushi at the "Hibachi House' downtown, of course.

Trevor was allowed to wear jeans for the first time since the accident. The pair he chose were his ripped up Wrangler-esque farmin' jeans. They took Walker's truck down to the restaurant. Trevor was able to grab the "oh shit!" handle (as I call it) and pull himself into the car with no problem.

Once they got there, they ordered edamame to start off with. Pre-accident, he would've dipped it in soy sauce, so my mom handed some to him. He took it and drank it. Whoops! He normally would have put wasabi on his sushi, but this time he took it and put the entire glob in his mouth. They found it packed on the side of his mouth during speech therapy an hour later. I've never chewed wasabi like tobacco, but I can only imagine how much that would hurt. I bet the inside of Trevor's mouth is now completely torn up...

The physical therapists connected Trevor to the "zipline" as Payton calls it. This is where they harness him in to see how much he's actually walking on his own. They wanted him to look in the mirror at his right foot to pull through correctly. He refused and tried as hard as humanly possibly not to look at the mirror. Yup, he's not stubborn at all!

He got 38 staples removed from his head and no longer looks like a baseball.

Weekends here are pretty quiet. Trevor only has therapy on Saturdays until like 2:00 PM and then nothing on Sundays. It's unreal how many movies and TV shows we watch here in room 2613. (Ahem, come visit him.)

So, Austin, a friend of Trev's and mine, came in and brought me a new phone and flannel (because he RULES). Trevor saw what was going on and became irate. He looked at me and then looked at Austin and firmly said, "no no no!" My aunt Kim asked him if he wanted the phone, and he looks at Austin and goes, "Right here!" I think it's a great sign that he's still getting pissed when I hang out with his friends. Nothin's changed!

New word! Walker was standing in front of the TV while Trevor was trying to watch Jersey Shore. Trevor yells "No! Go!" Aunt Kim asks if he can say please. "Please!" It's pretty interesting that during the however-many weeks he's been in rehab, nobody has ever told him to say please or thank you. Guess manners are no longer important after six brain surgeries...

One of my favorite things is when you ask Trevor a question he doesn't want to answer. He'll be all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed one second, and then all of the sudden pretend to be sleeping. He does it ALL THE TIME. And the best part is I'm pretty sure he actually thinks we're convinced he's sleeping. He'll do it laying in bed, sitting in his wheelchair or even standing up in the middle of therapy. Real sly, Trevor!

We also enjoy our daily voyage to the Huntsman Center, which is a cancer institute connected to the University Hospital. It's the longest, most confusing walk ever; we get lost practically every time. But when Trevor goes with us and we make a wrong turn, he says "no, no, no" kind of annoyed, puts his left foot down to stop the wheelchair and backs up to turn around. I'm 100% certain that if he could talk he'd say something along the lines of "I've had six brain surgeries and am still better with directions than you guys!"

While we were eating dinner at the Huntsman Center, we noticed Trevor looking around for something. We asked him if he wanted something else to eat. "Nope." We asked him if he wanted something else to drink. "Nope." Then, he grabbed the ramekin of ranch dressing and chugged it. I am so sick of my brother thinking it's normal to drink condiments!!!

Since the accident, Trevor hasn't really been interested in technology, and especially not pictures or videos of himself. But during dinner he spent about ten minutes looking through all the pictures on my mom's phone. She noticed afterwards that he somehow managed to set her background to a picture of two of my mom's friends. Interesting. Later, I asked him if he wanted to look at my blog. He said "nope," then grabbed it out of my hands and scrolled through every single one of the pictures. I think it was interesting for him to see the state he was in when this accident first happened. We still don't know how well his memory is working, but pretty sure he doesn't remember that far back. During the last rodeo, he remembered nothing. And because he isn't able to communicate, we don't know if he even remembers what happened yesterday. When I ask him if he remembers somebody coming to visit the night before, he always responds with "nope." Not sure whether to take that "nope" as yep or a nope...
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Saturday, March 19, 2011

Thursday, March 17

It has now officially been over a month and a half, and nothing is even beginning to simmer down...

I'm afraid I've been a bit misleading, and maybe even over-optimistic, in previous posts. I've had people come up to me saying how happy they are that Trevor is walking, talking, going up stairs, etc. on his own. However, none of this is true.

Trevor is not doing anything on his own. He will occasionally say a new word, but generally he does not use the words in the right context. The words he says are mainly automatic words, "words not directly under the control of person's conscious mind, and are spoken without thought" (Wikipedia). These are words that have been implanted in his brain since he was really young, such as the alphabet and numbers. Even these are not always correct though; he skips numbers and goes out of order frequently. While reciting these memorized lists, he will often switch from list to list. For example, he will be counting and then all of the sudden switch to days of the week without noticing. Outside of therapy, Trevor responds to everything with "nope," but we have no idea what he actually means.

For me to say that Trevor can now walk is completely deceptive. Trevor "walking" requires one physical therapist to physically move that right leg for him and another physical therapist to hold him up by a pastel rainbow-colored strap around his waist. Him going up stairs is the same thing. When I say he is lifting up his right arm or right leg, I actually mean that there is either a machine sending electric shocks to his muscles to move them, or that the therapist is stimulating these muscles with a vibrator.

He is stubborn and all empathy is gone. He gets what he wants and that is that. We cannot talk him out of anything. We cannot explain to him why things need to be done differently. We cannot convince him to stay in the cafeteria for two more minutes so we can finish our food. We cannot explain to him that we don't have to be ten minutes early to therapy. We cannot convince him to leave his arm splint or gait belt on.

Yes, Trevor is progressing. No, Trevor is not even 10% of what he used to be. He wakes up, goes to therapy, lays in bed, watches TV and then goes to sleep. Everyday. Having said that, come visit him please.

Here's a quick summation of what happened today:

During physical therapy, they asked Trevor what he wanted to do. Of course he said "nope." They then asked him if he would rather walk or do stairs. He said "neither." Although we were all stoked on this new word that actually made sense, they made him do stairs anyway...

Speech therapy in a nutshell:

Michelle: Hi Trevor. How are you?
Trevor: Ummm, go to Wendy's. [Laughs, confused as to where that came from]

M: Trevor, do you like Alyssa's watch?
T: Green.
M: Yes, it is green. But I was asking for a no or y-?
T: Yellow.
M: Can you say yes?
T: Yellow, yellow, okay, yes, yellow
M: Trevor, say yes again.
T: Go [Laughs and then a few minutes later...] Yes.

She then had Trevor practice typing on her iPad. She would give him the keyboard and he would think for a few seconds. Then all of the sudden, a lightbulb would go off in his head. It was like he actually thought he was about to type some genius word, but then would type something along the lines of "adhnr" or "querdds." For him to type "I ride a John Deere," it took probably five minutes. The therapist would try to explain where the letters were, he would type the wrong ones, have to figure out how to delete them, go through this process a few times and then finally get the right letter. It's pretty crazy to watch, especially due to the fact that pre-accident he could type about a bazillion words per minute.

She showed him a bunch of differently colored buttons. She asked him what color his John Deere is. He pressed white, and then yellow, and then orange and then green. She asked him what color his pants were. He pressed every color before the right one. (Again, not so good at multiple-choice tests!) Then she asked him what my favorite color is. He had to think about this one for a few minutes, scrolling through the colors several times, but eventually got it right!

M: Okay, now let's count from 10 to 100 by tens. 10, 20..?
T: Tuesday, Wednesday.
M: Try again. 10, 20..?
T: November, January, June.
M: Try again. 10, 20..?
T: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday.
M: 10, 20, 30.
T: 40, 50, Thursday.

M: Okay, let's do the days of the week. Monday..?
T: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

Great success! And then..

M: I want you to start saying bye. Can you say bye or see ya later?
T: One hundred.
M: Bye?
T: Hundred.

Ah, crack!

Trevor was extremely frustrated during occupational therapy today, to the point that I even saw tears run down his face. I don't think I've seen him this upset yet, so that was really hard to take. But, with vibration triggering the muscles in his right arm, he was able to lift it exponentially higher than he ever has. Great news! I'm convinced that it's some sort of magical vibrator wand. Without it, he can't lift his arm an inch, but with it, he can lift his arm all the way, fight crime and probably even create world peace.

Alright, so there are officially over 23,000 views on this blog, which is awesome. Now if 0.0001% of you would come visit Trev, that would be even better! He is lonely and bored. I cannot emphasize enough how much he needs friends during this time. We're all super boring. so come help us out!!

Mother Knows Best

According to my mom....

"Here are the facts:

We are living in a hell hole pleasantly known as University of Utah Medical Center Rehabilitation Room Number 2613. People all around us have recently been told their lives will never be the same. Families are devastated. We constantly see people carrying clear bags and tanks of their urine, blood, spinal and/or gastric fluids. The halls smell like sewage. The patients cry in their rooms at night while the nursing staff laughs as they enjoy their daily lives. People can’t wipe their own noses or control their drool. This place looks and feels and smells and sounds disgusting.

Having said that, we would like you to come and visit. We would like you to bring happy thoughts and stories that enlighten our day. We want you to bring in your smile and tell exciting stories about what your dog did yesterday or show us an article about Lynsey Lohan”s jewelry theft, etc. or bring in a game that doesn’t take a lot of time or concentration or skill but is not degrading and elementary.

What we don’t want you to do is:

Say “I bet you are getting sick of being with your family.” Unless you have the ability to dedicate more that 23.5 hours of your time daily to Trevor’s care, you might want to do everything you can to convince Trevor he is the luckiest man on Earth to have such a fantastic family. Unfortunately, whether you understand it or not, you need to be completely aware that Trevor’s family is imperative. When you give Trevor the slightest inclination that his family is boring, you push him closer to depression and suicide. Yep, I said it. I am not stupid, I know I am not more fun than Trevor’s friends but I guarantee there is not one friend out of all the friends I see on facebook that has the time to dedicate to even just the education of how to manage our situation.

For instance:

Even to take Trevor on a wheelchair ride around the hospital or stay with him while you encourage me to “go get some fresh air” you need to know that Trevor cannot excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Seriously, let’s put just that one simple task into the equation. Trevor cannot communicate. He cannot tell you “I have to go to the bathroom” and Trevor cannot go by himself. He cannot open the door, he cannot stand up, he cannot blah, blah, blah. He cannot tell his limbs what he wants them to do. The disturbing predicament is that every time a friend wants to “help” me or Trevor, I have to feel uncomfortable and discuss things that I shouldn’t have to discuss with people I barely know. Think of it this way: Were you close enough with Trevor, before his injury, to have him wipe your ass? If not, please understand why it is not “help” to take him away from his family.

What we don’t want you to say:

We cannot encourage Trevor to get back to snowboarding, or farming, or snowmobiling, or hanging with his friends. Trevor is going to have to change his way of life drastically. People with spinal cord injuries can get back on their saddles. In fact, those people are encouraged to. There are all kinds of equipment that those people can use to do as much as they can…you commonly see those people climbing Mount Everest. Trevor’s injury is not to his body. It is to his brain. Once again, I will repeat for this injury what I said after the last, Trevor cannot have caffeine, nicotine, sleep deprivation, flashing lights, alcohol, and jolting of his head. It is that simple. If those factors weren’t in play on February 2nd, I bet we would not be sitting in Room 2613 on March 17th!"

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

To whoever said this recovery was going to be a roller coaster, you were right.

Ups and downs, ups and downs.

Yesterday ruled. Today sucked.

That's it, that's all.

Monday, March 14, 2011

It blows my mind how many people have told me that they're reading my blog. But it also blows my mind how few have signed up as followers. There are a ton of people who don't even know anything about Trevor's accident. So here's the deal. If you are following this blog, which I know for a fact there are more than 149 of you, sign up as a follower. Just scroll to the bottom and click "Follow." Piece of cake! Thanks guys...

Hemispatial neglect: "a cognitive disorder defined as a lack of attention for stimuli contra-lateral to the brain lesion" (Journal of NeuroEngineering and Rehabilitation)

Apraxia: "a neurological disorder characterized by loss of the ability to execute or carry out skilled movements and gestures, despite having the desire and the physical ability to perform them" (National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke)

Aphasia: "a disorder that impairs the expression and understanding of language as well as reading and writing" (National Institute of Communication Disorders)

Together, these three disorders pretty much sum up what's wrong with Trevor. The right side of his body is not paralyzed but he can barely move it. He has to do everything with the left side. He knows what he wants to say, write and do, but has trouble saying, writing and doing it. He understands who we are and what we are saying, but has trouble responding. However, I am 100% confident that he is the same person as he used to be. He has the same personality, sense of humor and facial expressions. He's still Trevor.

It's really frustrating for us to see Trevor like this, but can you even imagine how frustrating it must be for him? This has truly made me realize how many little things we take for granted in life.

For instance, going to the bathroom or putting our clothes on. I never think twice about getting up in the middle of the night to go pee; I just get up and do it. But when Trevor has to use the little boys' room, he can't say, "Yo Mom, help me out" or just get up and do it himself. Instead, he will say "No, no, no" and then start shuffling around in his bed and try to sit up. The problem here is that he can't move his right side. So, he has to try to grab that right leg with his left arm and push it off the bed and lift himself up. Then we have to get the wheelchair, wheel it up to his bed at a 45 degree angle, put the brakes on, help stand him up, pivot him, set him in the wheelchair, take the brakes off, wheel him into the bathroom, angle the wheelchair to the toilet, put the brakes on, help stand him up holding the handrail, pivot him, help pull his pants down, help set him down on the toilet, help stand him up, help pull his pants up, pivot him, help set him on the wheelchair, take the brakes off, wheel him back to bed, and so on. Yeah, pain in the arse. I think I would rather just wear a diaper than have to deal with that multiple times a day. Poor T-Woo!

I caught myself complaining about a paper-cut the other day. Being unable to move one finger made everyday tasks more challenging, but Trevor can't move his entire right side. The occupational therapist had us all try to get dressed without using our right arms but it was absolutely impossible. I am so impressed with Trevor's ability to do everyday things, such as eating, writing or scootching up in bed, with just one arm. There are so many things we don't even think about that require two hands. Try cutting a steak with one hand for instance. Yeah, you can't. My brother is a saint!

Now onto the update:

So, Trevor went to a group activity on Saturday. It definitely wasn't your typical 22-year-old Saturday night; he went to a Playdough Pictionary party in the rehab therapy gym. What did we learn from this experience? Well, Trevor even displays aphasia and apraxia while playing with Playdough. The lady before him made a tire out of Playdough for everyone to guess. Trevor was supposed to make something else (I'm not sure what) but tire got stuck in his head, so that's what his brain told him to make instead...

The occupational therapist taught us some ways for Trevor to be more independent and transfer himself from bed to wheelchair with less help from us. But now Trevor thinks that he can do this completely on his own whenever he wants. Yep, it's a little nerve-racking to say the least.

Here's a quick synopsis of how speech therapy went today:

Michelle: Hi Trevor, how are you?
Trevor: It all started with Walker (No clue where this came from?!)

M: Trevor, what did you have for lunch?
T: Nope.
M: You didn't have anything for lunch?
T: Nope.
M: Well, aren't you hungry?
T: Nope.

M: Your mom and sister had gyros for lunch today. Did you have that too?
T: Nope.
M: Ok. Did you have the same or different? Say same or different?
T: Nope.
M: Same or different?
T: Different. (Right)

M: Did you have spaghetti or mac n cheese?
T: Neither. (Wrong)

M: Did you have a turkey sandwich?
T: Nope. [Pointed to yes]
M: Did it have, finish the word, ch?
T: Nope.
M: Did it have lett?
T: Lettuce.
M: Did it have cran?
T: Berries.
M: Did it have may?
T: Campbell's Soup [Looked really confused and then laughed]

Trevor is saying more and more words each day, which is huge. The words he says are generally only triggered by something said beforehand and often don't have anything to do with the context of the conversation. Nevertheless, he is improving, so we are happy!

Trevor did a lot of object identification today, where they ask him what/where certain things are. He has a difficult time with this for the most part. He does really well when he takes a second and slows down to think about what he's doing, but his brain doesn't always let him do that. He pays much closer attention when the therapists combine actions with words. For instance, when the therapist says "give me the ball" instead of "where is the ball?."

It's pretty interesting what Trevor's brain tells him to do sometimes. If we could just crawl in there and see what's going on in that head of his, things would be a lot easier...

Friday, March 11, 2011

So I was a little concerned when the occupational therapist whipped this vibrator out on Trevor today... But apparently it helps to stimulate and reactivate the muscle groups in his right arm, and make that connection with his brain.


We played "Guess Who?" during recreational therapy. He repeated a bunch of new words like "curly," "white," "Brandon" and "girl," which is pretty exciting. Then "for sure" got stuck again. Here's a quick replay...


Jenilara: Does your person have curly hair?

Trevor: For sure.

J: What question do you want to ask next?

T: For sure.

J: Whose turn is it?

T: For sure.


And then...


J: Trevor, can you ask if her person has facial hair? Can you say face?

T: Go.

J: No, say face.

T: Three, No, For sure, Go , [Points to teeth].


Followed by...


J: Trevor, can you say Zach?

T: Brandon, No, For sure, No, Brandon, Brandon


After a solid game, the therapist told Trevor she was going to have him do a little survey. While sitting in his wheelchair, he pretended to be asleep. We would say something along the lines of "Uhh Trevor, we know you're not actually sleeping" and he would try really hard not to smile and then get a big smirk (only on the left side of his face because he still can't move the right side) and burst into laughter. Super funny!


The occupational therapist walked in and said "Hey Trevor." He responded with "Lil' bit."


She worked on writing with Trevor. Because of his Apraxia, his hand gets going faster than his brain and he writes a random combination of letters and numbers, but once he slows down tenfold, he can copy what she writes with only a few errors. After a couple redo's, he successfully wrote "12345," "Trevor," "Alyssa" and "I <3>


Trevor can now hold up the amount of fingers you tell him to. Well, just numbers from 1 to 5 because only one of his hands works. Still impressive!


The occupational therapist asked him how he would say he's thirsty. He held up two fingers and said "three," and then held up two fingers again, and then grabbed his right wrist. She then asked him how he would say he needed the phone. He did a drinking gesture. Next she asked him how to ask what time it is. He did the phone gesture, and then the drinking gesture and then said "three."


This is about how speech therapy went today..


Michelle: What's your name?

Trevor: Chad [looks confused and then laughs really hard].

M: No, tell me your name. Say Trevor.

T: Trevor.


M: Who's behind you? Is that your...?

T: Brother.

M: She is your brother? Or sister?

T: [Laughs] Sister.

M: What's her name?

T: Ken [laughs].


M: Let's count to 40.

T: 20, 40, 50, 60, 70, 70, 70, 70, 20, 20

M: Okay, you tell me what comes next. 10?

T: 20.

M: 20?

T: 20.

M: 30?

T: 20.

M: 40?

T: Uhh, 20.

M: 50?

T: Uhh, 20.

M: 60?

T: 1, 2, 3

M: 70?

T: 1, 2, 3.

M: Okay, we'll count from 1 to 40. 1, 2, 3?

T: 20.


M: Okay, we'll try something else. Trevor, are you comfortable?

T: [Points to yes]. 20.


He's still struggling with object identification. When she puts different things on the table and tells him to grab one of them, he can't.


She told him to say peace out. He said "20." Then she said "peace." He said "out."


It's always really hard to tell what Trevor wants unless he is ready to leave. Today at lunch, he took the brakes off his wheelchair, grabbed everything on the table, piled it in his lap (spilling chips everywhere) and then backed up away from the table. That was our cue. And no, he wouldn't wait for us to finish our food...


Trevor used to count one, two, three for us when we went to scootch him up in bed. Now he counts uno, dos, tres. I love it.


Overall, today was awesome. Trevor was smiley and happy all day. I just love 'im!


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

My mom finally gave in and let the 'rehabists' put Trevor on the muscle relaxing medication. They all swear by it, and call it the "miracle drug." I'm hoping they're right and that by tomorrow Trevor is completely back to normal, but I'm not so sure that's going to happen!

Trevor's task during occupational therapy was to bake cookies. Pretty sure I go through a similar experience trying to bake with the 5-year-old I nanny for as the therapist did with Trevor...

First she had Trevor look at the box and tell her how many eggs they needed. He said "four." Wrong! Then she had him crack the egg. He stuck his thumb through the egg, much like every college-aged guy sticks his thumb through a PBR can to shotgun it, and got egg all over his hand. Then he stuck his finger in the half-melted butter and tried to eat it. Pretty much, half of the ingredients ended up on him. The best part is that he took a spoonful of cookie dough, put it in his mouth, chewed it, spit it back on the pan and then mushed it in with one of the other balls of dough.

The physical therapists had Trevor put his arm on a "skateboard," which was not actually a skateboard, and move his arm as far as he could. He could move it about a quarter inch. After doing this a few times, he was exerting so much effort that he was sweating and out of breath. Crazy!

They then helped him walk up the stairs. And by 'help,' I mean that they held all of his body weight up for him. But he was moving that left leg of his!

The speech therapist had Trevor play a matching game on the iPad but he just poked everything on the screen. I think the main issue here is that his fingers are moving faster than his brain is thinking. She then told him to press the 'weather' application, but he just started poking everything again.

Every time anyone would ask him "how are you?" today, he would respond with "just fantastic." He did the same exact thing (with the same exact tone) during the first rodeo.

My Uncle Steve called to talk to Trevor today. I handed him the phone and this is what I heard from Trevor's end of the conversation, word for word:

"No, no, no, no, no, no, uhh, well, if you uh forget to uh, forget to uh, forget to uh, for sure, alright, alright, alright, forget to uh, forget to uh, forget to uh, I dunno, alright, alright, for sure, for sure, alright, well, uh forget to uh, I dunno, uhh, umm, I dunno, forget to get, to get, I dunno, uhh, yeah, alright, alright, alright, I know, yup, yup, alright, alright, forget to, forget to, forget to, forget to, I dunno, alright, alright, alright, forget to uh, forget to get, uh, I dunno, alright, alright, alright, alright, no, haha, hahaha, I dunno, yeah, alright, alright, uh nope, nope, nope, if uh forget to, forget to, um forget to, damn, forget to get, I dunno, sure, nope, nope, alright, if uh, if uh forget to, forget to, um I dunno, sure, nope, nope..."

This was followed by at least 30 more 'nope's and some laughter. When he had enough, he tried to press the Apple logo on the back of my phone several times and then just shoved it at me. I hope that helps you all understand where he is at vocally. Yes, he can say a number of different words but no, he generally cannot use them in the correct context. We pretty much have no idea what his words actually mean unless he is yelling 'nope' while pushing something away.

Last but not least, if one of Trevor's guy-friends could come shave his beard for us, that would be great! My leg hair is getting pretty thick but definitely not that thick, so I think I'd have a hard time...

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Trevor got moved from the NAC to inpatient rehab. Back to the little, tiny, outdated room for us! All of the therapists are really impressed with Trevor's progress, which is fantastic!

During physical therapy, they connected him to this crazy trapeze-like harness to hold him up so that he could walk on the treadmill. They had it at 1.4 miles per hour. Walker had to hold his right arm down and the therapist had to move his right leg for him. But he was movin' that left leg and arm on his own! After just a few minutes of this, he was sweaty, out-of-breath, and looked a little vomitosis (a word founded by the one and only Tammie E. Walker).

During speech therapy, the therapist set out a few objects. She would tell Trevor to grab the spoon or grab the block, but he couldn't. He's still having a really hard time following basic commands. No bueno!

She then had Trevor finish some phrases. She said, "Cream and __?" Trevor responded with "jelly." And then "jelly" got stuck in his head and he kept saying it the rest of the session.

Trevor keeps doing this thing where he suddenly jerks his head over to look at me, gives me a death-stare for a few seconds, looks back forward trying not to laugh for as long as he possibly can, and then cracks up. I don't know if this is his way of making a joke or him being temporarily possessed by Satan, but it's pretty hilarious nonetheless.

Walker: "Trevor do you want me to rub lotion on your feet?"
Trevor:"Nope."
Walker: "I'll take that nope as a nope."
...Walker says the darnedest things!

Okay, so just to compare this accident to the one Trevor experienced last year... On this day of the first accident, we had Trevor's birthday/ coming home party. It was the day after he got discharged from Mary Freebed Rehab Hospital. At this point he was saying complete sentences and walking on his own. He would sit on the recliner in the living room and ask for bowl after bowl of green olives. Today, he doesn't even know what his name is and apparently won't be discharged until April 5th at the very earliest (I have no idea where that date came from). Yup, I'm over this rodeo. Someone rewind my life 10 months, oh please!

Also, huge thanks to the visitors that came tonight. Keep it up and keep 'em coming!

Monday, March 7, 2011

The past couple days have been downright depressing. Trevor has been really bummed out, to the point that we have even seen a few tears run down his face. I feel like he's starting to understand what's going on and come to the realization that things might be different this time. Man is he pissed!

Therapy has been put off until tomorrow so Trevor can recover from the surgery. There's not a whole lot to update on.

He has gotten so skinny it's disturbing. A few days ago, the nurse weighed him at 45 kg, which is about 100 pounds. I don't know if that's completely accurate, but I believe it. Those Rhoda chicken legs have come to a whole new level.

Trevor's brain drain is now removed. The process of getting out was pretty intense, but it's out nonetheless. Apparently there was a whole lot of blood, gauze and pain to the point that the doctors were even a bit concerned. However, he seems to be fine now, so it's all good.

Yup, my family is definitely broken. There was family feuds left and right during the past couple days. Tragedies unarguably bring out the best and worst of people and in this case, we've seen a bit of both. During the middle of a little tiff between an unnamed family member and myself, Trevor tried to get up and leave. He had enough and I don't blame him one bit.

So, my friend Megan took him on an adventure through the hospital. They went to the cafeteria to get ice cream. Megan asked Trevor if he wanted banana ice cream and he said yes. She gave it to him and he reached for another cup and pointed to the raspberry ice cream. Guess he just wanted a little sample of both! Trevor was really excited to go through pictures on her phone. She showed him a picture of some of us in South Haven this summer. She pointed to Goost and he apparently laughed at Goost's face for a long time. Understandable. Then she pointed to me and asked Trevor if he knew who I was. He said "Lyssa." I'm not even going to pretend I'm not stoked on that one. They went through a few more pictures and stopped at one of Megan and I on a ferris wheel. Megan asked him if he knew what we were riding on, and he said "I dunno, Payton?" Whatever, still a new word!!

One last thing. Trevor gets REALLY bored between the hours of 6:00 and 9:00 ish PM. He hasn't had any friends visit in probably 5 days, so please come visit. You don't need to check in with us beforehand, just come! I know it's awkward and I know it's hard to come up with things to say, but it means a lot to him and to us. Bring a movie or something. You honestly don't even have to talk to him, just sit in there and show some support. We're in room 2613.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

I definitely look forward to the weekends. Not because I get a break from school or because I am going to go out and party for 3 days straight like everyone else my age, but because I can get super good parking at the hospital. It's sad that these are the things I get excited about nowadays. By the way, we have now spent 4 weekends here at the hospital....

Last night the nurse pointed to my mom and asked Trevor who she was. He answered, "Walker." Whoops! But in Trevor's defense, Walker had just left, so maybe he just misunderstood the question.

All of Trevor's cords are now out, which is great news. Only thing left is the brain drain. It's definitely not normal to keep a container full of drained brain blood in your pocket, but hey, Trevor has never been into conforming. I'm thinking maybe we should get him a pocket protector for that hospital gown of his...

For this picture, I held up my phone and told him to smile. He opened his mouth, a little confused. I took the picture and then he smiled. Brat!

It makes me sad watching him feed himself. He does much better than I could even dream about doing with my left hand, but he still has no feeling on the right side of his face. He has no idea when he's spilling on the right side, so there is constantly food running down his face. And there's definitely some crazy food residue building up in that beard of his.

Trevor keeps sliding down in his bed so we have to grab the blankets under him to scootch him up. Whoa, I had no idea that scootch isn't actually a word but I'm currently unable to think of a synonym, but anyways. Every time we go to lift him up, he counts off for us, 1, 2, 3, in that crazy Mexican accent of his. It's my favorite.

Trevor and I got in a fight today. Whenever I am the only one in the room with him, he tries as hard as he can to get me in trouble. He'll try to wet the bed, lower his head below 30 degrees, put a bunch of wrinkles in his sheets or anything he can. Today, he pushed the side rail button, lowered it down, dropped his legs off the side of the bed and tried to get up. I told him he couldn't get up and grabbed his arm. He got super mad and looked at me like "Dude, you're my little sister, don't tell me what to do" and tried to push me away and get up again. We got in an arm wrestle, I won and he was pissed at me the rest of the day. I guess sibling rivalries are still existent during brain injuries...

Friday, March 4, 2011

Why did it have to be so nice outside on such a scary day? I would have given anything to be doing something outside rather than waiting in the surgical waiting room all day.

This morning we had to be at the hospital at 6:00 AM for the surgery. I tried so hard to get Trevor to let me crawl in bed next to him, but he was having none of it. Jerk!

The brain surgery went well. Trevor has officially survived 6 brain surgeries. The good news is he's a cat with 9 lives. The bad news is he only has 3 left.

It's not exactly a good feeling seeing him with, yet again, more tubes and wires connected to him. Oxygen, two IV's and a catheter.

He's really stable and responsive. So far so good! Although, he did have pinkish urine. The nurse literally said she would text the doctor to see if she could take out the catheter. I had no idea that nurses and doctors were on texting terms. Oh, technology!

Trevor has been really sleepy. He looks a bit like an oompa loompa with all the iodine antiseptic stains from surgery.

All day, he's been saying "no" and "nope" a ton. I hope that doesn't mean he's in pain. He doesn't really seem like he's in pain, but has no way of communicating it to us. He's definitely grunting a lot. I heard him yell for the first time since the accident today. He yelled "No no no no no," similar to a really frustrated kid in their terrible two's, or terrible twenty-two's in this case...

He's going to have a drain in his head and swelling for the next few days. The staples will be left in for a couple weeks. Yup, he's gunna be just fine!

Thursday, March 3, 2011

No, you are not seeing things. Trevor walked today. He still needs the support of two people, as you can see, but he was pulling that right leg (the one they thought was paralyzed) through pretty much on his own. Right sided paralysis, pffft, get real! He'll be walking in no time. Let's hope.

I'm not even going to pretend like I was around for the rest of therapy today but from what it sounds like, it went really well.

The therapists held up a few different flash cards with words written on them, and Trevor was able to read most of them. The brain blows my mind. It is so bizarre to me that Trevor would be able to read words but not be able to name pictures. But hey, I'm not complaining.

The speech therapist taught Trevor a new trick. He taught him how to ask "How are you?." They were all really proud and when Trevor got out of the session, they told him to ask my mom the question he had learned. However, instead of asking "How are you?," he asked "How much are you, Mother?"

If any of you think you have the best friend in the world, you might want to think again. My friend Megan came to the hospital bearing cupcakes for Trevor's pre-surgery party. Ain't she the best? Trevor was super bummed all day, but some strawberry shortcake definitely helped lighten his mood.

Note: if you double-click this picture, you will be able to see the whipped cream all up in Trevor's beard.

You know how every baby ends up with frosting all over their face during their first birthday party? Yeah, this pre-surgery party could definitely be confused for Trevor's first birthday party. Except for the fact that he's a hairy grown-ass man.

All I can do as I sit here watching Trevor sleep, on the night before the infamous sixth brain surgery, is worry. What if something goes wrong? What if it's too early? What if his brain is too fragile and unstable? What if he can't handle any more probing and poking? What if this plate causes him as much pain as the last one did? What if he digresses completely? What if he is no longer responsive? What if, what if, what if?

Honestly, I think Trevor's worried too. All day, he has seemed really bummed. He knows he's going in for surgery tomorrow. He knows that none of his friends have come to visit. Anytime anybody has asked him a question all day, he has responded with "nope". What if this "nope" wasn't him answering the questions. What if this "nope" meant that nope, he doesn't want to go through with the surgery, or "nope" he doesn't want a plate in his head that gives him headaches everyday?

I don't want to see my brother go through any more pain. I am so sick of looking into his eyes and seeing discomfort. It's like he constantly wants to tell us something, something he needs or that something is hurting, but has no way of communicating what it is.

I hate this.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Happy one month anniversary, Trev! We have officially been in this awful, dreadful, miserable, depressing place for 28 days. The last rodeo took exactly 1 month, 4 days. Not so sure that will be the case this time. If "everything happens for a reason" is true, then it would be super nice to find out why in the world this has happened (and is STILL happening) to my family. Are you there God, it's me Alyssa....

Alright, recap of yesterday:

Yesterday was Justin Bieber's 17th birthday. Happy birthday Biebs.

Trevor decided yesterday that he is now a middle-aged housewife. Not only did he watch Oprah, but he also watched Friends and Eat Pray Love. I think this might be his way of letting us know that it's time to shave off that manly beard!

Okay, so how confusing and frustrating would it be to have a traumatic brain injury and be taken out to a PARKING LOT to go FISHING? Yes, that is what he did in recreational therapy today. Fish weren't biting, who'da guessed?

During physical therapy, one of the therapists in the room coughed. My mom got mad and asked her if she was sick, and why she wasn't wearing a mask. Just then, Trevor coughed, hacked up a loogey and spat on the floor.

Speech therapy was yet again a struggle.

The therapist (or "rehabist" as we like to call them) told Trevor to finish the phrase "hot and ___." He said "cold." And then got stuck on the word "cold", along with "nope" and "sure" from previous days.

She then asked him a bunch of yes or no questions. He answered each one with "sure" and then "cold." Oh great!

She explained to Trevor that he is repeating a lot of words, that the word "sure" is getting stuck in his head and that this word is no longer to be in his vocabulary. By the end of the therapy session, she tallied him saying "sure" 47 times. I'm pretty sure it is still in his vocabulary...

She asked him a question where the response from a normal person would be "baseball." What was his? "Strawberry." Strawberry? Where did this word come from?

And for today:

The speech therapist wrote "Trevor" on a piece of paper and then told him to write his name. He wrote "Jenny." The therapist's name isn't Jenny and I'm not sure he even knows anybody named Jenny. She then wrote "Trevor" and told him once again to write his name. He wrote "Sbbbb." I am 100% positive he doesn't know anybody named Sbbbb. She got out a new sheet of paper and told him they were going to go word-by-word. She wrote T; he wrote B. She re-wrote T; he wrote T. She wrote R; he wrote B. She re-wrote R; he wrote R. And so on. How in the world did he get the letter B stuck in his head? He literally hasn't written that letter since the accident...

The therapist touched my mom and asked Trevor if that was Mom. He said "mother." He has always referred to her as Mother, not Mom.

She then gave him an iPad and told him to point to the banana icon; he poked everything on the screen. He has always claimed to be a terrible test-taker, and now I believe him. Somehow he always seems to pick the correct answer last.

All of Trevor's "rehabists" are extremely impressed by his recovery. Although it is remarkable that he has survived this near-death experience, I cannot even force myself to be impressed with his progression, or lack there of, in the past couple weeks. Honestly, I'm still not sure that he is completely comprehending what we are saying. I know he understands that we want him to do something, but I'm almost positive he just guesses what it is we are looking for. There's about a 50/50 chance that he does what you tell him to do and there's about a 50/50 chance that he responds to your questions correctly. To me it seems like at this point, life is just a big guessing game for him.

Trevor goes in for his sixth, yes I said sixth, brain surgery on Friday, March 4th. They are going to put in a titanium plate covered in a methama-something membrane to replace the missing portion of his skull. Watching Juno today, I learned that this substance is the same one used to protect acrylic nails. Hopefully he doesn't constantly smell nail polish from the inside of his head!

Lastly, today is national "Don't say the R word day," the R word being *etarded. According to MedicineNet.Com, *etarded is a term used "when a person has certain limitations in mental functioning and in skills such as communicating, taking care of him or herself, and social skills... [Those] with mental retardation may take longer to learn to speak, walk, and take care of their personal needs such as dressing or eating." That whole definition pretty much screams Trevor Rhoda. Ah crack! Happy F'ing Don't say the R word day, USA.

Oh, and if you're still wondering if there's anything I need or if there's anything you can do for me: Computer, phone, boyfriend... Get on it!