When you get caught between the Moon and New York City

Today is Day 42, exactly six weeks since the accident. And Gabe is doing well. He continues to shed medical dependency: the gradual reduction of painkiller here, the removal of his central IV (PICC line) there. We all wait for grander news similar to that of the Valentine, but these little steps mean progress.

So last week, G made a leap forward as he exchanged a short-term acute care hospital—SF General—for a long-term one. This you know. Kentfield Specialty and Rehabilitation Hospital continues to monitor him medically, but also integrates therapies to re-instill consciousness. Speech therapists (SP) will begin to test his mouth muscles to make sure he is controlling his tongue and swallowing down the right passageway. Occupational therapists (OT) take up the limbering up of his arms, hands, feet, and legs that Donna and I practiced in the ICU and step-down unit of SF General; when he’s more awake, OT will switch gears to assist in grooming, dressing, etc. The physical therapists (PT) sit him up and let his feet dangle off the side of the bed and practice range of motion with his limbs simultaneously. All of this is critical in preventing his muscles from atrophying completely, and his tendons from tightening beyond use. Kentfield had aimed to get Gabe in a wheelchair and moving about, however this is being put on hold until his fractured pelvis has a few more weeks of healing.

Certainly the team at his new crib is attentive, thorough, and vigorous while proceeding with the right amount of caution. I got to watch each of all these therapies yesterday, and Donna & I caught a little of speech today. For the first time to everyone including staff, Gabe seemed to respond to commands and elicit movements beyond that of base neurological responses. A therapist today worked for 30 minutes on finger movements and I’ll be darned if he wasn’t trying to work with her. Maneuvering his pinky, making a fist, holding up two fingers, touching his nose…brow pooled in sweat & furrowed with what I can only guess is concentration. Next I’d like to see Gabe give us his usual thumbs up ^*squint*

Now for a little backtracking….

On days 33-39, another journey took place away from Gabe’s bedside. I flew back to the Big Apple to handle the lives we placed on hold. It can be strange to be in a place so familiar but so far away from where one’s mind is at. New York is the same swirling, mythological place. Summer is slipping casually into fall. Specialty food trucks still roam and the ice cream truck bells still toll. Street fairs are in the tail-end of the season. Museums rotate into autumn exhibitions and there are more boots on people’s feet. Friends and family continue the trajectory through which the City and its parts take us: meeting up in the park, sharing beers at a bar, running into each other on the way to work.

The purpose of the trip was to pack his apartment and ship everything up to Maine, pack my apartment and put everything into storage, interview and secure a sublet for my apartment, and settle up the job from which I’m resigning. By the end of six days, it was all done with plenty o good times had in Ft Greene Park, at the track, at a party, eating out… But seriously, 60 boxes + furniture weren’t done alone. There were friends who set to work gathering boxes, tape, markers, plastic bags. There were friends who spent their days and evenings at my house packing. Then they went to Gabe’s house to pack some more. One got a free pile going beneath the kitchen counter and sorted through old shoes. Bike boxes and bubble wrap were tracked down. Scones and cupcakes arrived special delivery to my office. The best granola ever tasted waited on the counter at home while a delectable roast chicken sat in the fridge. A family member helped sort through bills and provided sage legal advice, while another elected to store my possessions in his house. Seven people showed up on Gabe’s doorstep to load up the U-Haul; two of them flew down from Maine to drive it all back north. A whole crew of Mainers waited to unload it upon arrival at Gabe’s childhood home. There were those who helped me make coin rolls to exchange at the bank and those who sat on the corner eating breakfast before the flight back here. One picked me up from the airport and was always just around the corner waiting with big hugs. Another called me out to ole 9^th Street for coffee. The last evening was shared in good company on the piers of Long Island City, overlooking the skyscrapers of Midtown as the sun drifted lower and lower over the East River.

Wow, the people will be the greatest “miss” factor, more than the City itself–they MAKE that place! Oh, bon voyage, New York!

After six long days away from the Bay Area, I sat with Gabe and saw a difference in him. Ever so slight, but it was there. And I related each story and the lolz and the nomming that took place back at home during his absence. Every name is repeated and each face described. Then I think beyond the circle of NYC friends who’ve been around. From the date of the accident to today everyone shows their support in a unique manner and it often passes through my mind that I hope no one who has reached out to us feels under-appreciated. Perhaps we need to start a list on a new section of this website. Perhaps we just owe a lot of thank-you cards

Time for bed. Hope everyone out there is encouraged and still thinking/sending/dreaming positive things for Gabe. I’m convinced he’s going to sign those thank-you cards himself. Much love.

-Kierie