Reunion and dispersal

 Two weeks tomorrow since Jennifer’s accident.  She’s made remarkable progress. But not a lot has happened therapy-wise this weekend.  And it’s debatable whether her being there is actually detrimental to her recovery.  Case-in-point.  Last evening they woke her up at 9pm to give her sleeping medicine (melatonin).  Seriously.  

Anyway, we had the greatest, therapeutic picnic this afternoon. We did an end run around the “One Visitor Policy”—we gathered at a picnic table outside her room and opened her window.  Today, Jack was her “designated visitor”.  He stayed inside with her while we brought food to the window.  And he brought a water color set, took Jennifer outside and they painted together.  She painted a “burning bush” and Jack a scene from Lord of The Rings.

The Fellowship fragments over the next day as Julia flies back to her Utah MBA classes today and Caleb heads back to Fort Bragg tomorrow to resume his duties there.  Luke, Abby and Jack will remain through the week.  I hope that we will get Jennifer back to the farm before they leave.  Everyone has contributed to so many ways to Jennifer’s care (and mine).  Cleaning, cooking, shopping, organizing, modifying the house for accessibility with hand railings. Team Jennifer.

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As we slowly transition away from the acute intensive care to the chronic rehab care, I’m ending the “Updates”.  I will continue to post regularly, but the term “update” sounds like something you should interrupt your life to read—like Jennifer got AirLifted to University Hospital—but the news here is now less urgent.

On another note, so many people have written encouraging notes, texts, emails.  I can’t count them all or respond to each one.  But I want to share a couple of them…

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Remember when Jennifer was on the ventilator and the Respiratory techs were doing Spontaneous Breathing Tests to see if she would breathe on her own.  And she wouldn’t.  The ventilator would go silent and she wouldn’t breathe.  Then the emergency back-up mode kicked on and an Emergency Alert would come on and say “Apnea Alert.”  We asked people to pray and in response we got this note from one of Luke’s classmates at Christ School:

“Dear Dr. Jennifer- you have to wake up, so many of us are here, waiting to see that miracle in your life today…you have to breathe on your own, your husband Dr. Scott, your children, your family, your friends and your pretty little patients are waiting for you; we need you back and soon…we have a God who never fails, and just know that He is there and here with you. May you see His Light and glory and raise up and defeat the enemy.  You have the power and the victory because the Lord is with you. We are waiting on you dear mum…please wake up; Arielle and Adriel needs to see their grandmum and not just in pictures, they need to hold you and say they love you. Please wake up. Dear God, do a miracle in the life of Dr. Jennifer for your name’s sake and the glory of your name. Amen.

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And today I got an email from a former Bundi teammate from many years ago who is having a severe medical trail.  She said this…

The other thing I wanted to share were Jennifer’s own words that she sent to me just a few months ago, when I’d just received my cancer diagnosis.  They were strengthening words for me, so here they are back to you in ways that we could have never expected-

What is Happening to you is sorrowful. It is not your fault. God doesn’t have to show you the tied-with-a-bow reason it is all OK.  And Love is still the most true thing. You are loved. And God is good.

Life is so fragile isn’t it? And such a gift. Your accident reminded me so clearly - that even though I have this cancer diagnosis, my life is actually no more or less fragile than anyones, and the Lord is truly the only one who numbers our days…