As scary as the dent in Trevor's head looks, it's actually a really good sign. It means that most of the swelling from the surgery has gone down. New bone flap replacement is scheduled for March 4th, so mark your calendars!

Catheter and IV's are now out. No more tubes to worry about Trevor pulling out during the wee hours of the night.

He got transfered from the NAC to the Inpatient Medical Rehab unit. Although the interior decorating is awful, the staff here has been great so far. They are actually interested in Trevor and his medical history, which is awesome. He has a one on one CNA (certified nurse assistant) in the room with him 24 hours a day. Huge relief!

According to the doctors, this recovery is going to be full of ups and downs. Today was definitely a down. But we cannot judge his progress based on day-to-day changes. Instead we must look at the improvements from week-to-week. And compared to last week, Trevor is killing it...

Three words to describe Trevor's day (and yesterday for that matter) : restless, uneasy and compulsive. Despite what the picture makes it seem like, he keeps rolling over, grabbing the bed's side rail, feeling the stitches and dent in his head, scratching his junk, rolling back over and repeating. He's been really grumpy and agitated all day. He kept pushing away everything we handed him (iPod, food, milkshake, remote, tray table, water, etc.). He threw the pillows that were protecting his head off the bed. He threw his helmet when we told him his friends wanted to take him on a wheelchair ride. He pushed us away when we tried to go near him, and even made a fist and punched Walker at one point. I think he got his hopes up while we were transferring floors, thinking that we were leaving for good. I'm praying, for all of our sanity, that this impatience is from lack of sleep and is not going to be a permanent thing.

Speech therapist came in today. The first thing the dude did was get right in Trevor's face and speak gibberish to see his reaction. Trevor responded very clearly, "Whaaat?," which is great news. Then he told Trevor to repeat after him, "Ahhhhh." Trevor did, but I'm not convinced that actually means anything. Whenever Trevor doesn't understand what someone is saying to him, that is exactly how he reacts. So I'm pretty sure he wasn't repeating the therapist, he just didn't get it. The therapist then held up a paper towel close to his face and showed Trevor how to blow and make it move. Then he held it up to Trevor's face and told him to blow. Trevor grabbed it and tried to wipe his mouth. The therapist told him to blow again and this time he tried to eat it. Overall, this visit from the speech therapist... FAIL.

To be quite frank, I'm really not sure if Trevor understands anything at this point. As proof of this, here is a quote from my mom: "I have a dog back home in Michigan... When she needs to go out, she stands in the foyer, opens her eyes really wide and stares at me. She doesn't bark or scratch at the door. She just stands, stares and waits for me to figure out what she wants. This is exactly like the conversations Trevor has with me. I don't have confidence that his "nopes" really mean nope or his "yeps" really mean yep. The most active time is when his meal tray arrives and I hand him a spoonful of puréed food. He can't scoop the food from a dish but he can get the spoon to his mouth." Sad and blunt, but true.

The doctors are really persistent on drugging Trevor up to fix all of his problems. They want to give him pills for sleeping, pills for stimulating him during therapy and also pills for regulating his blood pressure. My mom and Walker told the doctor that they would feel more comfortable trying without medication first. Dr. Speed got a little pissed. He asked if they understood that this recovery will be different than the last. My mom asked him if that was a serious question and gave him a dirty look. I know being a doctor is simply practicing medicine, but it seems like Trevor being on that many different drugs is just overkill and could potentially backfire.

Dr. Ericson helped explain to us what this right-sided neglect actually means. Basically, Trevor's brain and right side are simply not communicating. The connection isn't severed; they just aren't communicating. His reflexes and leg tremors on his right side make sense for his injury. The leg tremors occur when the tendon is stretched. His head will continue to try and make that connection and communicate with his limbs. Recreational and physical therapy will help with this.

Oh, one last thing. Some elevator etiquette: Wait until the people in the elevator get out before getting in. I mean, c'mon, it just makes sense!

During the last rodeo, the medical staff kept saying to us, "this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint." They were wrong. The last rodeo was a sprint; this one is going to be the marathon...

Last night, Trevor pulled his feeding tube completely out of his small intestine. I guess that's one way to tell everyone he's ready to eat real food all the time. He's been eating really well all day. So far, so good. Although, if I were him, I think I'd rather have the feeding tube than what they're feeding him. I mean, hospital food is pretty awful but puréed hospital food? Count me out!

He also decided that he's had enough of laying on his back all the time. So what did he do? Since he can't yet move that right side, he kept taking his left leg and scooting his right leg all the way over on the bed. He would then do the same thing with his arms, and roll himself over to his side or stomach. Mixed emotions of feeling sad yet highly impressed.

Today, Trevor got transfered out of the NCCU. He's currently in a step-down room in the NAC (Neuro Acute Care) until they decide to take him to inpatient rehab, which will probably be in the next day or so. There are tons of patients roaming around this unit with baseball heads just like Trevor. And by baseball heads, I mean they all have crazy brain surgery stitches all over their domes. I think he'd be happy to know he fits right in!

They came in with a doggy-version of Patch Adams to cheer Trevor up a little. The dog's trainer asked Trevor if he wanted to give the dog a treat, and handed him a bone. Trevor took the bone and tried to eat it. Whoops!

One last thing. If you're trying to lose weight, there is a simple solution: a traumatic brain injury. On February 4th, Trevor weighed 72.8 kg. On February 14th, he weighed 63.7 kg. In case you're not a math major, he lost 9.1 kg in just 10 days, which is equivalent to 20 pounds, 1.4 stones or .009 metric tons. P90X out, TBI in.

Today is officially the 2-week mark. Quote from my mother: "I think I can handle about 2 weeks, 1 day of this. Tomorrow, I'ma 'splode." I agree 100%. Definitely going to 'splode soon.

The doctor came in to tell us that they are removing the stitches and cerebrospinal fluid drain today, which is great news. I'm sure it will be super relieving for Trevor because they both constantly agitate him. I think I'm still holding a grudge against the doctor for him saying yesterday that Trevor will probably be disabled enough to be on Medicare, and that that's the good news. You know, I'm honestly trying to see his perspective here, but how in the world is that good news?

Trevor is being transfered from the NCCU (Neuro Critical Care Unit) to Inpatient Rehab here at the University hospital tomorrow!

We went and checked out the rehab facility. The only word I can think of to describe it is depressing. It made me realize what these next few months are going to entail, and I am not excited about it. I am definitely not looking forward to spending more of my life in an ugly, out-of-date, poorly decorated, colorless rehab center with plastic-covered furniture and terrible artwork. And that's just the looks of the place, not even mentioning all the people here. Everyone appears to be unhappy and depressed. It's scary looking around at a bunch of patients in wheelchairs who cannot walk or talk. I'm not yet at the point where I can categorize my brother with all of these people. I am NOT having fun anymore!

I think the resolution for all of this is to go on vacation for a few months, and come back when everything is settled and back to normal. Why hasn't anybody invented rehabilitation cruises yet? It would be absolutely perfect. We could be miserable and depressed half the time and then enjoying ourselves and relaxing in the sun for the other half. It's genius, really...

The physical therapists informed us that Trevor will not be walking today. Remind me again why we were instructed to bring his tennis shoes?

The speech therapist, Doug, came in to oversee Trevor eating his first meal on the new purée diet. Apparently he kept purposefully placing spoonfuls of food on the side of his mouth, above his mouth, etc. to determine Trevor's tongue movement. How annoying would that be? Being 22 years old with another man feeding you, but not even putting the food in your mouth? Yeah, that's just cruel. However, I totally think we should send in a picture of Trevor and apply him for the Gerber baby-food logo.

After this feeding fiasco, Doug let Trevor play the bubble game on his iPad. This required Trevor to poke the bubbles and pop them with his index finger. Easy. Then Doug told him to point to the "E" and the "D." Nope, that didn't happen. Priorities!

I guess my only question at this point is whether or not Trevor's new titanium bone flap replacement is going to be bulletproof...

Big news today. Dr. Schmidt came in and overloaded us with information. I have never heard Trevor snore but he definitely snored through the doctor's entire speech. Clearly he was uninterested. Anyways, here is my attempt at a recap of what the doctor said...

First things first, they want to get the drain out of Trevor's head. They have clamped the drain because it is up to 15 and there is no more cerebrospinal fluid being drained. I'm not exactly sure what that means but I know it's good news.

After that takes place, it will be a couple weeks before the new bone flap will be surgically put in. During the last rodeo, they tried replacing it way too soon, which made it so that we had to stay in that miserable hospital for a week or two longer than we initially thought. To ensure this mistake isn't made twice, the doctor is going to wait until the swelling is completely down and the dural graph is completely healed to replace it.

Trevor will be doing inpatient rehab here, at the University Hospital, until the bone flap replacement. Dr. Schmidt stressed the danger in sending him to Denver, in case of surgery or other emergent medical needs. He states that rehab therapy is the same anywhere and that there is nothing one facility can do that the rest of them cannot. "Craig doesn't have magic."

After that, Trevor will either remain here or be transfered elsewhere (Denver, Chicago, Kalamazoo, wherever) to finish inpatient rehab. According to the doctor, he will most likely require several months of rehab therapy, much more intense than last time. Once Trevor is walking, eating, dressing and controlling his bladder by himself, he can be transfered somewhere closer to home. Dr. Schmidt claims that walking is likely to come back because he has so much strength on his left side, which will be able to compensate for the right-sided weakness. However, it is probable that he will need a leg brace in order to do so. He says that Trevor returning home as soon as possible is the biggest issue. The access to friends, the familiarity of home and life back to normal are huge components of a solid recovery. So, Michigan friends... get stoked.

"Flabbergasted" was the exact word used by Dr. Schmidt to describe Trevor's recovery. Yes, a doctor expressed feelings of excitement of Trevor's unexpected progress. That's what's up!

Per physical therapist order, we are to bring tennis shoes for Trevor tomorrow :)

Oh, and he will now be delivered delicious hospital food, puréed of course. Nothing better than drinking steak and potatoes through a straw!

Happy Valentine's Day! We love you, Trevor.

Today, the physical therapists came in and helped Trevor walk. And by helped Trevor walk, I mean they literally held his entire body weight up and moved his legs for him. I don't know if that counts as progression, but it definitely gave us a sense of hope that maybe someday soon Trevor will be able to do it on his own :)

Turn your volume up. My friend sent me a CD with this song on it. I have heard it a million times before, but somehow this time, it made me bawl my eyes out. In a good way. It kind of put everything in perspective and calmed me down about this whole situation. "Just breathe. Another day. Another day, just believe. Another day. I'm used to it by now". Really it is all we can do at this point. Just believe. And I do; Trevor is going to be just fine!

Not trying to write a novel, so I'm just going to be brief and get to the point.

They stood Trevor up again today. I'm not even going to try to claim that I was there this morning (or afternoon), but from what it sounds like, he is holding his head up even more, which is huge. As you can see, his thizz face is on point.

Trevor can now say "yup" and "nope." Awesome!!

I'm pretty sure he might actually be able to read because whenever we hand him a piece of paper with the writing upside-down, he immediately turns it around.

He is grunting and moaning a ton. It's hard to tell whether they are good or bad grunts, but they sound pretty painful to me.

He definitely has the "I don't know" face and shoulder movement down. Whenever we ask him anything, he doesn't know.

The minute Trevor falls asleep, someone comes in to bug him about something. Poking him, pinching him, putting humidity masks on him, cleaning him, whatever. It's sad because everything seriously exhausts him, and you'd think adequate sleep would be pretty crucial during a time like this.

It's really hard to make decisions for Trevor. I don't know what he wants or what he is comfortable with. I try to put myself in his position but I can't because I have no idea what he's going through. And I know that he probably won't be able to remember any of this anyway, but I get sick to my stomach trying to determine what is best for HIM. A lot of the decisions the staff here makes is based on the fact that he won't remember what happens. But is it humane to tie him down to a bed and only give him Tylenol for his pain? I don't think so. I don't think it's fair to make decisions about the present based on the future. We have to consider what is currently helping or hurting him, and make decisions based on that. And for this reason, (so we don't make him uncomfortable or upset when he has no way of expressing what he's feeling) I think it's best if we only allow close friends and family back there to see him. I know that may seem ridiculous, but we just don't know who he would and would not want seeing him like this...

I think I need to clarify on something. I'm afraid the term 'rodeo,' which I have used several times describe this current situation, has been a little misleading. You see, rodeos are generally dangerous and fun. Although the rodeo we are in right now is immensely dangerous, it is not even remotely fun. It is absolutely draining, both physically and emotionally.

The fear of not knowing what is going to happen or what the outcomes are going to be is treacherous. Looking into Trevor's eyes is painful. I couldn't have possibly been more excited when he first opened those big blue eyes, but now all I see is this vulnerability. A vulnerability with no way of expressing what he's feeling or what's going on in his head. No way of expressing pain, confusion, fear, anger, happiness, anything. I hate being in the hospital room seeing him like this, but I feel guilty being anywhere else. I would absolutely never wish this upon anyone.

OKAY, now that we're on the same page, here are the current updates...

YESTERDAY:

The neuro team came in and asked Trevor to hold up 1 finger; he did. They asked him to hold up 2 fingers; he did. They asked him to hold up 3 fingers; he did. My mom called him a showoff and he smiled. He is without a doubt able to decipher between nurses and doctors. How do I know this? Easy, he only responds to the doctors telling him what to do because he knows their evaluations are much more crucial to getting out of this place.

The speech therapists came in and gave Trevor a speech and swallow test. He got an A+. I don't know how he passed a speech test when he can't even talk but hey, what do I know? I'm no doctor.

The social worker informed us that we really need to start thinking about rehab. Most likely he will have to go by medical plane if it is not in Salt Lake City, which insurance may or may not cover. Now, we have to determine what is best for Trevor. Should we send him to Craig Hospital in Denver, which is a really well-ranked rehab hospital, should we send him back to Mary Freebed in Grand Rapids or should we send him to a rehab center in Salt Lake City which may not be as good, but will have the bonus of a huge support group? It is undoubtedly a difficult decision, but one that needs to be made soon.

TODAY:

Trevor can now feed himself ice chips by spoon. Problems with hand-eye coordination? Pfft, yeah right.

Speech therapists came in and told Trevor to point to the "yes" or "no." He couldn't. They wanted him to write yes or no. He put the pen in his teeth and wrote "E." Sometimes I feel like he's just trying to mess with us, and when we get out of this place he's going to look at us and say "gotcha!" On the other hand, maybe he actually thinks you're supposed to write with your teeth. Let's hope not.

Physical therapists came in and sat Trevor up. He is holding his head up more and more each day. They wanted him to pass a tennis ball back and forth. Although he was slow, hesitant and frustrated, he did it! He has a hard time looking at things to the right of him, which probably has a lot to do with this right-sided neglect that the nurse talked to us about.

Doctors decided they are going to put in the new, titanium, mesh plate, and determine from there whether or not Trevor needs a shunt. A shunt is a one-way valve used to drain excess cerebrospinal fluid from the brain and carry it to other parts of the body (his abdomen in this case). This valve is usually placed outside the skull but beneath the skin, somewhere behind the ear. Hopefully this is not a brain surgery we have to add to his list.

The nurse asked if Trevor's little siblings drew all these pictures for him. Nope! They were all done by people above the age of 20.

I would like to once again thank all of our friends, family, friends of family and family of friends for the support during this time. You guys are all incredible and words cannot even describe how thankful we are for you!

Lastly, please note that we are now on the search for a wife for Trevor. If you think you're right for the job, please email my mother and me a resume, cover letter and 8x10 full body shot. Alcoholics, smokers and hoe-bags need not apply.

According to an article in today's copy of the Salt Lake Tribune:

Pearce flew into Salt Lake on Thursday and went straight to the University of Utah hospital, where he was taken to see another snowboarder in critical condition from a brain injury.

"It was really good for me to see that," Pearce said. "To see where I was, because I obviously don't remember that."

http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/sports/51236761-77/pearce-brain-accident-remember.html.csp

I told you it was good for both of them!!

First off, I would like to apologize for blowing it yesterday and not updating everyone on Trevor's progress. I decided it's about time to get back to real life, work and school. Yuck!

RECAP OF YESTERDAY:

According to the doctors, Trevor's brain is not regulating his body temperature, which has been at about 102. This is common with traumatic brain injuries, but is scary nonetheless.

The physical therapists came in and tried to sit him up again. He still couldn't support his head or body. I hate watching it. During the last rodeo, he never really struggled holding himself up but that is not the case this time around. To me, that is terrifying. It exhausts him, it exhausts me, it exhausts everyone. I noticed my first grey hair today. I blame Trevor 100%.

The doctors' goal is to prevent Trevor from needing a shunt, which is a CSF (cerebral spinal fluid) drain that would be put in the ventricles of his brain in order to funnel fluid into his abdomen to be reabsorbed. His brain currently is not draining the CSF on its own. However, they want to wait until last minute to resort to the shunt because it is a life long thing and is not recommended for people at such a young age. Let's hope that his brain starts regulating the spinal fluid on its own STAT. Say your prayers, amigos.

Trevor waved yesterday. MILESTONES!

Kevin Pearce, the professional snowboarder who went through a similar injury to Trevor, stopped by last night. As soon as he walked in, Trevor knew who he was. I think it was really impacting for both of them. Kevin said a lot of encouraging words to Trevor, Trevor was extremely responsive to Kevin, and Kevin got the opportunity to see someone in the same position he was in a year ago. Win, win, win!

My dad had Kevin sign Trevor's hat and then Trevor took the marker and tried to sign Kevin. Literally, he tried to sign him.

We are debating on whether to send Trevor to rehab here in Salt Lake City or to Craig in Denver. His doctor (who was also Kevin's doctor) recommends Craig (where Kevin also went). On the other hand, all of Trevor's friends are here in Salt Lake, which I think would be really beneficial for him to have supporting him and helping him get through. What do you guys think?

TODAY:

There's good news and there's bad news. I'll start with the bad news.

Trevor's physical therapists came and tried to stand him up today. It went about the same as trying to sit him up the previous two days...

The nurse informed us that there's a good chance Trevor is suffering from right sided neglect. According to Wikipedia, (do NOT tell my professors I'm using Wikipedia as a resource) right sided neglect, also known as hemispatial neglect, is a condition in which, after damage to one hemisphere of the brain, a deficit in attention to and awareness of one side of space is observed. In other words, Trevor's brain is telling him not to pay attention to the right side of his body. This causes him to always resort to his left arms and legs first. If he wants to use his right side, he will often use his left side to do so. For example, he will try to lift his right arm up with his left one. Hopefully the nurse is wrong!

Now onto the good news...

As you can see, Trevor wrote his name for the first time. Kind of.

This morning, Trevor casually grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Later, he changed the channel.

He is not yet talking, but grunts all the time. This is a good sign because his vocal chords are obviously working. Now if he would just talk!!

Trevor had a bunch of gunk in his mouth, so my mom tried getting it out with the medical equivalent of a toothbrush. He then grabbed the toothbrush and scraped it out himself. It was like a toddler saying "I can do it myself!"

Yup, he's gonna be JUST FINE...

Today in a nutshell

I'm not really into smooth transitions, so bear with...

The physical therapists came in today and sat Trevor on the side of the bed. He couldn't even hold up his own head. It was as if they were trying to sit an infant up for the first time but having to support him completely.

The doctors are trying to raise the level of his CSF (cerebral spinal fluid) drain in order to get him to manage it on his own without raising his ICP (inter-cranial pressure). They raised it from 10 to 15 and were going to monitor him to see if he became less alert or more tired. After doing so, he no longer responded to commands and was definitely more tired. They lowered it back down to 10. Ah, crack!

Paraphrasing my mom: Doctors also informed us that Trevor has a pool of CSF on his left frontal lobe, which can only be fixed by capping his head with a different type of synthetic bone flap. If the CSF doesn't dissolve, something else will have to be done.

He got a nasal trumpet because he's super phlegmy. His left arm was tied down so he kept lifting his right arm up as far as he could to try to fix it, getting tired, falling asleep, waking up and repeating. I'm no physical therapist but I think this might be an excellent technique to get that right arm strong and moving again.

Megan and my new favorite hobby: guessing what medical terms mean. PROM= ponies ride on moonbeams. Will need helmet= will need helmet. ETT= extra terrestrial Trevor. L Radial= his nurse sucks. No, I'm not talking smack, she literally sucks. She violently suctioned about 8 gallons of phlegm out of his nose. PLETH= prolly let 'em touch (and play with) hazardous (materials). H2O= hard to obtain (get). ICL= ice cream latte. There's a good chance the combination of fluorescent hospital lighting and lack of sleep is making me delirious...

It's funny to me how the doctors yell at Trevor because they think his hearing is the problem. It's kind of like when you're trying to talk to someone who doesn't speak English very well and you end up screaming at them. They aren't deaf. Isn't it a commonly known fact that TBI patients have increased sensitivity to their senses? Plus, he just had brain surgery and is only on Tylenol for pain. Can you say headache?

Not to rip on the wonderful staff here at the University Hospital, who I appreciate exponentially, but I just pressed the nurse call button and watched the nurse pick her nose for a good 2 minutes before responding. God forbid there be an actual emergency!

You know how when you've just taught your dog or baby a new trick and are trying to show them off to people, and they never actually do it? Yeah. The doctor came in and realized I untied Trevor's hands. I explained to him that he never tries to pull his tubes out, just likes to scratch his face every now and again. Just then, Trev reaches up and tries to pull his nasal trumpet out. Always trying to make me look bad. And yes, I think I just compared my brother to a dog...

It might be a little ludicrous to claim that my family is lucky, but I think it's true. According to the doctors, had Trevor not injured his head the first time, he wouldn't have survived this time. The portions of his frontal and parietal lobes which were removed during the last rodeo allowed for swelling room this time, and arguably saved his life. I mean, despite the fact that the first injury may have been a huge contributor to the second, I say we're pretty dang lucky. Most likely good karma because my parents adopted a Haitian child named Schneider Oscar.

One thing:

My dad handed Trevor his iPod. Trevor looked at it, gave a look of disgust, lifted up his sheet, stuck the iPod above his manhood, put the sheet back on and continued to watch the hockey game.

Awesome.

WOO HAIKUS FOR YOU [to sum up the evening]

OH HAI(KU)
Blue Cross Blue Shield Calls
Asks to speak to Trevor Jay
No, he's comatose

WOO WOKE UP
He's super restless
Everything drives him insane
Wiggle wiggle Woo

MATUSHKA <3
Sweet baby man child
Takes his mother by the neck
And kerplop, a hug

TRICKS & TREVOR
We taught him some tricks
High five, thumbs up, wink and kick
How he's progressing

MEGAN & TREVOR: SWEET INSATIABLE LOVE
A maiden of beaut
A lad takes her by the hand
And lays it a smooch

Just hangin out. He loves letting that left foot dangle.

Alright, so I feel like a pessimistic jerk for ever thinking that Trevor was paralyzed on that right side. He was just trying to scare us a little, keep us on the edge of our seats. Today he has been extremely alert. The doctors came in and squeezed Trevor's arm. He moved his right arm towards the pain. Then they squeezed his right leg. He moved his right leg away from the pain. He is doing all sorts of crazy tricks on command, like opening up his eyes, squeezing his left hand and lifting his legs and arms. He can't do thumbs-up or hold up two fingers yet, but last time he couldn't do that until he was talking so I think we're okay...

He kept lifting up his left leg, straightening it, bending it and then putting it back down. Over and over again. For hours. I figured maybe this meant he wanted his sock off, so I took it off. He kept doing it. I figured maybe this meant he wanted his circulatory cuff off, so I took it off. He kept doing it. I figured maybe this meant he wanted to stretch out his legs, so I took the pillow off the bed. He kept doing it. I figured maybe this meant he wanted to be moved up in bed, so I had the nurses move him up. He kept doing it. He's still doing it...

The nurse set some gauze by his hand to do who knows what. He picked up the gauze, wiped his chin for a few seconds and then laid it on his neck. A little bit weird and Turrets-ish but definitely goes to show that his hand-eye (or rather finger-eye) coordination is on point.

According to the doctors, Trevor is currently in surgery getting a vena cava filter to prevent blood clots from traveling to the wrong places. Can blood clots travel the right places? Regardless, it is an easy surgery that most trauma patients go through. After he's out of surgery, they are taking his ventilator out. Let me repeat myself: THEY ARE TAKING OUT THE VENT. Such great news!!!

Trevor: 2, Death: 0. He is the poster child for "Do really dumb shit because nothing's gunna happen."

Trevor keeps reaching over with his left leg to his right one, and using his entire body to try to move that right leg. You know that scene in Kill Bill when Uma Thurman ("The Bride") is trying to move her paralyzed feet? "Wiggle your big toe, wiggle your big toe!" Yeah, it's kind of like that. Except I can tell he's starting to realize that it's not actually going to work, his leg isn't going to move. It breaks my heart. He keeps trying to push his right leg off the bed with his left one. I'm almost positive this is him trying to escape. Trevor and I have a lot more in common than I thought... we both want out of this place!

Thanks to Austin Stevens, T-WOO! stickers will be available soon.

I'm ready to wake up from this awful nightmare. I have a really hard time getting up in the morning because I'm not excited about returning to reality. At all. Okay, there was my negativity for the day, now onto Trevor...

The doctor came in this morning and mentioned that they are worried because Trevor isn't progressing too much. He definitely proved them wrong over the course of the day...

For the most part Trevor has been exhausted all day, but he will have random spurts of extreme responsiveness. He was stoked to see his friends Matt Piasecki and Ben Hanisch. As soon as my mom left the room and Trevor realized it was just easy-going Walker in there, he tried with all of his might to get out of bed. Nurse button was used for the first time. Milestones!

Nurse told Trevor to open his eyes; he did. Nurse told Trevor to squeeze his hand; he did. Nurse told Trevor to lift up his leg; he lifted up his arm. Nurse told Trevor to lift up his leg again; he lifted up his arm again. Still progress...

A note to all visitors coming in to see Trevor: Talk to him. About anything. Don't talk to us like he isn't there. He knows what you are saying and he recognizes your voice. Don't say anything about his right side paralysis. Hold his hand, even if you're homophobic. Come visit; he likes it and we like it.

On the topic of visitors... Just found out that Trevor's doctor is the same one who operated on Kevin Pierce, the professional snowboarder who went through a very similar brain injury last year. Apparently Pia Pierce (his mom) wants to bring him in to come see Trevor. Pretty sure she's just using my brother to try to convince Kevin not to snowboard ever again. But, hey, if that's God's reason for Trevor's injury, then I guess so be it...

According to Dr. Ledyard (spelling?), Trevor's CT scan is the cat scan of a dead person. Proof that Trevor has now officially conquered death. Twice.

A collaboration of random thoughts...

The thing about this accident that I am having the most trouble coping with is that there's no way of knowing what happened. We don't know if a seizure caused all of this, or if Trevor hit his head, or if his brain got shaken up, or if the implant was loose to begin with. And not that it matters I guess, but I just want answers... something to blame all this chaos on.

After the first accident, every morning Trevor would complain about the screws being loose in his head; that the plastic implant was wiggling. So he finally went to the doctor to get a cat scan to check it out. The day the doctor told him the implant was fine was the day he stopped going to the doctor. "They don't know anything."

It makes me sick to my stomach to see all these patients in similar conditions as Trevor who are laying there in dark rooms by themselves. And as crazy, broken and full of drama as my family is, we definitely kill it at coming together at times of crisis. I'm proud to be a part of the Walker/Rhoda bunch.

They pulled the drain out of Trevor's head. Some chick came in to check to see if he has blood clots anywhere. Blood clot free is the way to be; good job Trev! Blood pressure is high today. I think our stress might be contagious. Being treated with medication for this of course.

Speaking of high blood pressure, holy cow did Trevor get riled up to see Corbett! As soon as Corbett started talking, Trevor tried really hard to open his eyes and was moving around on that left side like crazy. He kept making pinching motions with his left hand. I don't know if he was trying to grab Corbett's hand or give him a thumbs up or what he was going for there, but nonetheless it was exciting.

So at first I was a little apprehensive about Trevor being treated at a teaching hospital but I've officially changed my mind. I think it is a good thing because A. The nurses and doctors explain everything to the students, which means we actually know what is going on and B. Everything is new and exciting to the students so they're all enthusiastic, interested, careful, caring, innovative and determined in helping my brother. They actually treat him like a human. Awesome!

"Things are basically where we want them to be, just gotta be patient"

-Dr. Richard Schmidt

Lowered ventilator from 13 to 12. When it's at 8, ventilator can be taken out.

Blood cultures show bug growth, bacteria of some sort. Will be investigated. 48 hours. Antibiotics are on their way. Temperature is 101.6, probably because of the bugs. Damn bugs!

Pretty sure toddler phase is coming soon. This morning Trevor was really restless and squirmy and kept trying to get his wrist untied. This caused his IV to come out. Man, the nurses are about to hate him. They have no idea what they're about to be dealing with. Well, maybe they do; hopefully they do.

Nothing annoys Trevor more than wrinkles in the sheets under him. He keeps wrestling around trying to get comfortable. But hey, I would rather him be worrying about his sheets and pillows than trying to pull all his tubes out like last time around. It's almost like he gets it this time; he knows not to mess with his vent, catheter or IV's. THIS AIN'T HIS FIRST RODEO!!!

Nothing like a basket of puppies to lighten up the mood before blogging about my brother who is in a coma for the second time this year...

If the expression "no news is good news" applies to brain injuries then so far, so good. Knowing Trevor, I think he's just waiting for the perfect time, when nobody is expecting it (most likely at 5:00 AM, when we're all trying to finally get some sleep for the night) to wake up in full-blown toddler mode, fighting to pull out his catheter and do 360's in bed.

The one thing I've found with Trevor is that he's not a big fan of regressing, conforming or doing what he's expected to do. He will stay stable and consistent for a while and then BLAOW!, progress like crazy and blow everyone's minds. Hopefully that's the case again this time. On the other hand, "slow and steady to win the race" is also fine by me!

RECAP FROM LAST NIGHT:

My friend Brad, the nurse who traveled on the medical plane from Lander to Salt Lake City with Trevor, came in to talk to us today. He said that the flight to Lander took an hour and a half because of winds but that the flight back to SLC took only 45 minutes. The one thing that was incredibly reassuring to hear was that for a small hospital, Lander did everything surprisingly right. They administered Trevor the three correct doses of the three correct medications to keep him stable and moving forward. I'm sure a lot of that had to do with the fact that they were in constant communication with the University hospital, but still great news!

Paraphrasing my sweet sweet mother, Trevor's nurse gave him some pretty potent medicine last night to make him you-know-what. Can you imagine being a grown-ass man in a room with your mother, wearing a dress, paralyzed on one side, strapped down on the other, and having to do your business? How demeaning. Well, we were both in Trevor's room when his blood pressure sky-rocketed and he got the poopy face. That's when I dipped out. Trevor started doing the squirm that all moms recognize. She said to him, “Trev, I'm going to leave the room so you can do it right in your bed and then I'll have a nurse clean you up.” The minute Woo thought she was gone, he struggled really hard but managed to open both eyes. It was like he was checking to see if the coast was clear, then immediately was bound and determined to get his hand out of the strap. The rest of the story is none of your business.

Also this morning, Man-nurse McGee let my mom untie Trev's wrists from the bed. The first thing he did was reach over with his left arm to feel his right arm. There's no way of knowing if that actually means anything or not, but the fact that he took the initiative to feel his right arm, the one that might be paralyzed, is heart-wrenching to me. It's almost like he's starting to realize what's up...

February 4, 2011: DAY THREE

Vitals are stable

This is only the third day -- are you kidding me? It feels like it's already been a week...

The respiratory therapist is lowering the oxygen from Trevor's ventilator. He is trying to reduce it to 8 so the vent can be taken out completely, as long as Trevor is showing signs of consciousness. Was at 15, turned down to 13.

Doctor says Trevor is in a "light coma" but showing signs of consciousness. When he tracks his eyes that means he is aware. His eyelids are moving around a little and he can lift his head up a good 6 inches.

It took FOUR guys to figure out how to put the electrode that fell out of his head back in. Well, 3 guys, 1 chick... For real?

2:30 PM-

Nurse opened Trevor's eyes to check whether or not he can track things. My mom tried to get him to look at her but of course he was too stubborn to do so. He's a "grown-ass man," he doesn't have to look at his mother when she speaks to him. I don't know if it's just because I'm loud or because he was trying to prove a point (even in a coma), but he looked directly at me when I said his name, which is huge!

Every time the nurse or doctors pinch him or give him a "titty-twister," he kicks his left leg and left arm, but there is no movement of his right limbs. Sometimes he even opens his eyes a little.

He tried kicking his left circulatory leg cuff off, which is a good sign because he's always hated sleeping with socks on. He also scratched his left palm with the fingers of that hand. Now if he would just move his damn right side!!

He keeps fondling his dress... Probably pissed because he's a man and men don't wear dresses.

3:00 PM-

The Asian doctor came in and asked Trevor to move his hand. Of course he's not going to move his hand; she doesn't even speak English. Last time around, just a few days out of the coma, an Asian physical therapist came in to talk to him. When she was leaving, he said something along the lines of "Get that Mexican out of here; I don't even know what she's saying to me."

4:00 PM-

GOOD GAS, BAD GAS

This morning, the respiratory therapist, Thomas, said Trevor had really good blood gas (something to do with oxygen and breathing). Now, he said he is going to add a longer push of air every 6 breaths for 10 minutes every 4 hours (whatever that means) because Trevor now has bad blood gas. Speaking of which... he has really bad anal gas too!

It's crazy how excited we get over the littlest things now... definitely shows the everyday things we take for granted. Tons of new little hopes and joys being thrown at us!

Visitors today: Austin Stevens, Megan Dennehy, Claire Gartrell, Ian Colwell, Justin Allen, Brad Greenwell and Emily Coffman

ATTENTION: Please, nobody bring us any more delicious, fattening treats. You have no idea how much weight I gained last time and I'm trying not to get to big-girl status again!! During tragic times, people either don't eat or don't stop eating, and unfortunately I am the second.

Also, I didn't post any pictures of Trevor on here because I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. If you wish to see them, let me know!

Lastly, if you're thinking about going into medicine, make sure you're really good at pinching because that's all I've seen the doctors actually do today. Trevor literally has bruises from them.

February 3, 2011: DAY TWO

The alias the hospital has given him

Trevor has a feeding tube in his nose; a ventilator in his mouth; a super swollen and cracked lip; 2 drains in his head; probes and electrodes all over his head and chest; IV lines; a catheter; a temperature tube in his throat; circulation leg cuffs; and straps to tie down his arms. The left side of his head looks like a baseball again, with staples in the same incision as last time. His vitals have been stable and consistent, his BP, pulse and respiratory rates never soaring.

His eyes haven't opened and he hasn't made a sound yet. He is on 2.5 mL/sec of Fentanyl, which is a pain killer, and is on no paralytic medication. He responds to pain by reaching with his left arm and extending his legs. No response from his right arm yet. He is not responding to command.

Last time, when he was reduced to this amount of medication, we called it the "toddler stage." That was when he was flailing around trying to sit up, crawl out of bed and pull all his tubes out. This time, that's not the case quite yet.

4:00(ish) PM-

Met with his surgeon, Dr. Richard Schmidt, who we were recommended to. Finally a doctor that isn't socially handicapped. Woot!

My interpretation of what Dr. Schmidt said: Trevor is extremely stable but showing symptoms of paralysis on his right extremities, which makes sense because of the stroke on the left side of his brain. The brain damage is very similar to that of last time; the same areas are affected, just much more severe this time around. Speech, reading and writing problems are very possible during his recovery. He won't be transfered for 4-6 weeks at the minimum.

Doctor confirmed that Trevor is on very little sedative medication and that, unlike last time, his coma is NOT medically induced.

He is most concerned about the irreversible damage caused by the seizure.

Now we're just waiting for the swelling to go down and for him to wake himself up.

WAKE UP TREVOR!!!!

Visitors today: Justin Allen, Austin Stevens, Uncle Larry, Uncle Steve, Megan Dennehy, Ian Colwell, Matt Piasecki, Chad Holmes, Sara Valerious, Brett Allen, Emily Coffman, Ellison McMillan, Rachel Roller, Julissa Gonzales, Gemma Glisson, Lyndi Staker, Carli Jones, Taylor Hackett and Alex Cato

Trevor has an incredible support system. I cannot even put in words how grateful I am for all of Trevor and my friends during this time. You guys are honestly the best, and I don't know what I would do without you.