Thanks for reading,

Gabe

Dave Murphy of Red Wing Shoe had made the trip possible. When Mike, owner of Winterport Boot Shop and long time Red Wing dealer, put out the call for help, Dave and head Red Wing pilot Chappy had answered. They made the company Lear Jet available to us at no charge and now Chappy and Jim, co-pilot for this trip, were awaiting us at the Oakland CA private transport airport.

Would Gabe actually fit in the jet? Chappy had researched and measured and rearranged seating but could we actually load our prime passenger? At 6’5” could our crew lift him up the steps and through a door that was narrower than Gabe’s shoulders? At the airport it was a dark and stormy three in the morning, one of the worst bay storms I had seen– no moon, limited lighting, a hard driving rain sheeting sideways. Gabe was bundled in blankets on a rapidly soaking stretcher and I held a humongous black limo umbrella over the group of Gabe, the EMTs, Chappy, Jim, Alan, and Kierie as they pushed toward the brightly lit jet door.

Success! Team members lifted a cocooned Gabe up the steps, tipped him a bit sideways to clear the door frame, pulled him over the Red Wing welcome mat, around the 90 degree bend and down the aisle and into the improvised recliner/bed. Alan took over, checking trach, blood pressure, oxygen level and warming Gabe up in dry blankets. The take off check list was heard from the cockpit as Chappy and Jim went into flight mode and Kierie and I nestled in for the long flight east.

Two weeks ago Red Wingers and Mainers gathered under much happier and drier circumstances. Gabe had graduated from a year at Brewer Rehab and was now back into real life with Kierie in Bangor. Dave Murphy and Peter, our regional Red Wing Sales Manager, were in Maine and wanted to meet Gabe and Kierie about whom they had heard so much. Gabe, Kierie, Mike and I met Dave and Peter for dinner at the beautiful inn overlooking Lake Lucerne.

Dave and Peter were obviously moved as Gabe controlled his power chair up to the table and Kierie helped him to his feet to step over to his restaurant chair. As the dinner and conversation moved toward a final coffee it was beautiful to hear Gabe say “Thank you”. And to me it was even more moving to see the looks of happiness and caring on Dave’s and Peter’s faces. Thank you Dave, Peter, Chappy and Jim and so many others in the Red Wing Shoe family for your continuing support and encouragement to our family and the important part you played in bringing Gabe home. Thank you Red Wing for making decisions from the heart.

In January after signing our lease, winter dragged on like a metaphor for the larger end game we waited for. He received permission for Saturday sleepovers. We figured out what worked and what didn’t as our apartment slowly swallowed furniture.

By April, no definitive discharge date save the floating around of a nebulous summer jailbreak. By April, he was still living at the rehab center, and one of our closest NYC buds, Nikola, came to visit. His stay was truly mind-blowing for me, for him, and I think for Gabe’s projected outlook in the life to be lived outside of institutions.

Of the four full days Nikola was here, he hung out with Gabe and I for only six hours at Brewer Rehab. The rest of the time was spent at our apartment or in Bangor. For each night Nikola stayed, Gabe spent the night too. Each time Nikola and I went out–to a bar, to eat–Gabe came along. Nikola rarely interacted with Gabe through the lens of hospital staff and family. It was just us.

Or it was just them.

Nikola was unassisted in his communication with Gabe, and the conversation was incredible. He pushed himself with Nikola unlike I’ve seen him do with anyone. Though his response time was still slow, he spoke in full sentences, asked questions, and cracked wise. Gabe nearly doubled his distance cycling, from 2 miles to a 3.5. & what started as an experiment turned into steady refusal to sit in the wheelchair while eating out and driving in the fajita van. When invited to a dinner party, Gabe said he wanted to climb the five steps to get into my friend’s house. Nikola didn’t need to watch Gabe in therapy because he experienced Gabe’s progress by watching him do all these things and walk around our apartment. I think his presence in turn encouraged G to kick it up to the next level.

Nikola saw past Gabe’s physical disability and treated him just like he has been: the same, old Goobs of yesteryear. In fact, I know he’s the same dude because he demanded I chase down an ice cream truck. “HARK!” he said.

Thanks for coming up, friend. In reality, I owe it to all our friends who have stuck by us the last two years, who have visited and keep in touch, but this particular visit was significant because it preceded G’s eventual permanence in our apartment. Nikola’s stay inspired me to keep him home the entire time, and his ability to handle the environment–free of aides, nurses, and therapists–was the clear and resounding affirmation that, YES, we can do this. From those four days, I clearly saw that we can make it work when he moves in, and he will be the better for it. I will be the better for it. No code alerts, no dozen faces glimpsed in the confines of one’s room. & for that matter, multiple rooms to move through. Now that they set the high mark, magine how killer it’s gonna be when our buddies come visit this summer!

Stay tuned into this channel. The odyssey is not over and an update will be posted rather soon of what the first week will turn up for us. Especially with some video of this morning’s departure from Brewer Rehab. His leaving drew a crowd as Gabe walk from his room, out the door, to the car. Everything loaded, hand waving. Donna, Summer, and Larry stood by rooting for him and documenting this epic turn in our lives. We’re going to have a really EPIC summer.

p.s. ALSO. Doubly. & last but not least…

Check, check, CHECK IT. maddfajita.com

Last week, Gabe decided to blog about his impending hospital discharge. By himself, he wrote then posted to his old blog, one he’s had for years to update friends and family. The fact he’s returning to it is a return to himself. What’s better, he used a back-end terminal on a Unix/Linux command line.

GO GABE.

Come and visit it’s great for bikes.

(written by Gabe, uploaded by Donna)

What would happen if a new micro dose drug delivery system direct to the spine were instituted? A Medtronics Baclofen pump operation had been debated by the team for months. Would some of brain fog lift as the heavy oral doses dropped off? Would brain messages get through to muscles faster? Would muscles relax enough to not be stiff as a board but still provide enough helpful tone for walking? Would the delivery system also help his left arm or only the leg? OR would Gabe now be so weak that he would be confined to a wheelchair and the pump have to be emptied of Baclofen and kept on standby with saline solution?

Two tests were conducted in April and May that gave strong evidence a Baclofen Pump system would work with Gabe. The first hospital test put the equivalent of 75 micro units of Baclofen into his spinal fluid. Yowzaa! He was relaxed!! Mr. Rubberlegs for two days. Well now we knew it would reduce the tone! But the dosage? Could it be reduced low enough for him and still have the desired effect? Another test two weeks later beginning with the lowest possible dose of 25 micro units was conducted. In two days Gabe was almost totally relaxed in his left leg but it would still bear weight and he could still take steps with Kierie at his side. Gabe then said to go ahead with the operation and his team of physicians and family backed him on the decision.

Kierie departed on a long planned last trip to see her family in Colorado and Iowa while Gabe’s operation dates were up in the air. We all had to fit in her vacation break before Gabe came home in late June. Oh no! After she bought her ticket the operation date was set for the period she would be gone! Not exactly the end of the world. Donna the Mom would stick by Gabe’s side and send daily reports to Kierie. Summer and Mike would visit.

On May 16 Gabe checked in and was prepped for the operation. The surgeon had already explained the placement of the pump (about the size and shape of a can of chewing tobacco). It would be in a spot beneath the right ribs and above the belt line. Under the skin and fascia but above the muscles, anchored in a little pocket and attached in place by silk thread. A catheter line next threaded around the ribs to his spine and enter into the spine at L3. Then it would be threaded up to about T9 if it did not get turned about by hitting nerves. So there would be an incision both front and back at those sites.

A medtronics nurse technician was on hand to load and set the pump. The pump would be checked monthly for proper dosage by external sensors and an injection portal in the pump would allow outdated baclofen to be removed and fresh baclofen added about twice a year. The pump itself would need to be swapped out for a fresh one every 6 to 8 years.
Gabe and his surgeon sailed through the operation together and everything was in the right place. Monday operation, Tuesday bed rest and Wednesday Stan Bowden and Richard Crossman from the Winterport Ambulance Service gave Gabe a friendly ride back to Brewer Rehab.

Then Gabe’s physiatrist began the balancing act of decreasing the oral Baclofen and Zanaflex while increasing the pump Baclofen dosage. Baclofen is one the class of drugs that must be titrated or reduced slowly to prevent serious complications. Gabe had to keep his back as straight as possible for a week so the catheter would heal properly in its place. And 30+ staples were not comfortable. Over the course of the recuperative week transfers from wheelchair to bed went from difficult to easy pre-operation level. Walking with the physical therapist got stronger and by the time Kierie returned yesterday Gabe was ready to walk with her at his side again. I will resume my walking “class” with him today.

Gabes left arm is a little “looser” and is ready for an onslaught of attention by Kierie and I. Mike will be starting a father–son exercise regime developed by Gabe’s physical therapist. And oh so sweet, both Kierie and I notice Gabe is able to respond faster verbally as the oral Baclofen dosage reduces. We have been working on short sentence speech and hearing Gabe talk in short sentence context is giving new understanding to those who speak with him.

Gabe grabbed for the golden ring and got to put it in his bike bag. Benefits are showing up faster and faster. Now as ever, there is a ton of work ahead. His last two weeks at Brewer Rehab will be heavy therapy ones for Gabe and busy planning ones for Kierie, myself, and Gabe.

We are out of here June 13th !!!!!!!!!

The biggest news piece is, at the end of January, Gabe and I signed a lease for an apartment! This is really thrilling (and overwhelming) news for us and it’s a lifestyle hard to picture. No hospital bed? Putting on records? Making one’s own coffee? A real coup. He’s earned every penny of it. In late October, I began seeing changes in Gabe on which I could bank my belief that we had a chance at rebuilding our relationship, and that we could do that in the future without relying on others every hour of every day.

In the last days of December, I asked Gabe’s family to give their blessing, and be a part of the search for an accessible apartment. They gave it wholeheartedly, and of all our leads, we chose a place found by Gabe’s dad, Mike. The apartment is a two-bedroom with high ceilings, southeast facing windows, and smack-dab in the middle of downtown Bangor. It’s a real grown-up apartment with dishwasher, oven/stovetop fan, and impressive water pressure. It was a bowling alley for decades, and before that, an assembly plant for Tin Lizzies.

We’re filling in furniture gradually and I’m in, but the Fajita won’t move until May or June. Right now, he sleeps over on Saturdays and at the end of the month will stay over full weekends. He is STILL living in a sub-acute rehab facility, the same place he arrived at last May. This has got to sound a bit out of the ordinary or spark the thought, “Wow, he’s really messed up.” There’s a convoluted answer to that, but in sum total he is not “messed up” to the point that he needs to be relegated to a skilled nursing facility for the rest of his life. He is still in rehab because he’s been dealt a really good, good hand. Traumatic brain injury survivors typically receive six to eight months rehabilitation because it’s one of those injuries that don’t heal quickly, and insurance severs a venture not providing monetary returns. TBI patients are left with less rehab than they truly need to attempt to recover. Gabe’s stay—fourteen months—is an inordinate amount of time and Donna and I have jumped through to make this happen. I can still remember in California our shared, weekly rounds anxiety aiming to get to Spaulding in Boston! He’s definitely sick of having people about all the time, the smells, the other patients, and especially code alerts, but he’s lucky for it because he’s received four to five hours of therapy daily. He’s making advancements in mat work, bed mobility, standing, transfers, walking, etc. His therapists are indispensable. I hope his luck extends to finding similar winners in out-patient.

Bowling! On a double date with Allison & Josh (not our apt)

There are definite downsides to living at a facility. There is a lack of privacy because a nurse, aide, or therapist is always around; it means there is always someone to do the things he can do himself, or should be relearning to do without help. There is always someone there to speak on his behalf. He is often spoken of in third person though he’s sitting right there, tuned in to the conversation. It must be isolating to be spoken of like an appendage, an object. Gabe is very capable despite his hemiparesis, but I think he is underrated. The constant help develops a “learned dependency,” and it is a disservice to his redeveloping muscles and the neurons coming back on board. It reminds me of a teenager whose parents do his laundry instead of teaching him how to do it himself. In Gabe’s case, I believe this dependency can be undone. He shows great courage in relearning, and I hope this adventure into apartment living encourages Gabe to grow on his own; to enjoy solitude away from scrutiny. The OT are focusing on fine motor skills in daily tasks like small meal preparation (think PB&J, cereal), and at my request, unloading the dishwasher.

I think one of the two largest obstacles Gabe faces is that he is physically disabled–although he would tell you, “temporarily disabled.” This time last year he needed two people and a gait machine; now he uses a cane and one person to help him balance. He ditched the knee-length, right leg, pirate brace at the beginning of the year, and in the fall, his thigh-high, left leg brace was reduced to knee-length. We’ve spent the last month learning to walk together, and have just been cleared to walk without a therapist looking on. That left leg is really getting going. I’ve no reason to feel assured he’ll walk again, but I feel it.

Us. March 2011.

Someone this driven, this dedicated and brutally honest with himself while still rocking a positive attitude, will achieve the seemingly impossible. Neither limb is capable of fine motor movement, though the left leg is developing strength and is rotating from the hip and knee. He manifests a growing despondency over his left arm, which he has the hardest time moving. There is a considerable amount of tone in both limbs yet, which his therapy team believes is the primary reason for inhibiting advancement. Several methods to combat tone are being used and on the table for the future. Though his left side is severely affected, he still accomplishes tasks without assistance. He showers alone. He shaves without help with a razor and tends to his own bathroom routine. He can feed himself. He speaks intelligibly if you don’t mind asking him to repeat what he just said one to three times (rhyming consonants are difficult right now but getting better). He can safely cross a street unassisted. He picks out his own clothes. The computer is no problem to open up and spend a couple hours on. He’s trying his best to best the power wheelchair in navigating tight corners and turns. I’m optimistic we’ll still get to set fire to it some day.

Watching the band When Particles Collide perform, at the Bangor Art Walk, March 2011

Aside from the physical advancements, Gabe retained a great portion of his old self. Still on board are his intellect, and critical processing of topics as widespread as news headlines, pre-calc equations, and bike mechanics to name a few. He can make sound decisions just like you and I can. He is the silent, stoic type as we’ve always known him to be. He never was a talker to begin with. His wit still looms large, and he’s interjecting his play-on-word quips with greater ease into conversation. He knows what he likes and doesn’t like: bikes, food, travel, the Simpsons, Apple, (root) beer. He’s still a vegetarian and loves socializing, loves going out. He’s capable of, and often has, in-depth conversations with me that he brings up himself when we can share a quiet moment. He easily orients himself to time, place, season. He has tremendous attention span, comprehension, and concentration—all things a TBI survivor can lose as a result of injury. It is difficult to see some of this on the surface. You gleam it by spending time with him.

Other than that, we’re watching days tick by on the calendar. I know I look to the future and get stuck on that often. I get stuck on what could be, and will be, happening when Gabe and I can operate as a unit rather than this disjointed, disheveled couple with too many cooks in the kitchen. I have thoughts of when we can get around easier, when we can travel, when we can have a seamless conversation without me saying, “Can you please repeat that?” Then I realize that, like a child, it’s important to be in the moment. We adults anticipate a lot; making two- or five- or ten-year plans is no big deal. Maybe it’ll be more realistic for us when he breaks outta being institutionalized. The only plan I want to anticipate and dream and prepare for this spring is settle this apartment and make it work, then hammer out a schedule that grants Gabe and I independence together and from each other.

I hope everyone is well out there. I know there’s been as much going on this past 19 months with all of you as there has been in our private microcosm of brain injury. It’s hard to quantify the time that’s slipped by. Feel free to drop a line.

Our apt! on the Bangor Art Walk March 2011

More news in a post later this week: cycling and the cell phone.

Gabe and I woke up lying next to each other this morning. It was the first time in 18 months. Everything was all there like it used to be. In our own apartment. No one else around. No schedule. Swathed in our very own blankets that smelled like our own laundry soap. Sunlight poured in the room like it had back in New York. We slept peacefully through the night, and in the morning, he woke up and whispered in my ear,

“Breakfast.”

Thanksgiving day 2010. Gabe’s extended family, Kierie, Summer, Larry, Allison, Mike & Donna all got together for an excellent sit down feast in Winterport. He sat in Marion’s old wheelchair to fit his legs at the table and nommed olives, goat cheese, squash soup, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and apple sauce–all the veggie T’giving goodies, multiple pieces of homemade pies and drinking sparkling apple juice from his wine glass — no straw! Now speaking in short sentences, standing for a family picture, replying in pig latin to Mike’s pig latin statements.
His vision has improved by his use of his new glasses; his muscle control on his left side is improving. His walking skills have increased. Noticeable differences even from week to week. He can now interact much better with his visitors, and is even back on Facebook and gets on his blog via his laptop.
Soon, the recumbent trike we ordered for him will be here, and he’ll be cycling again. That will further help his motor control, and strengthen him more, and build up his stamina and help work off all the pie he ate today.
Gabe is learning new skills and expressed a desire to learn German with Kierie. So the Gab is on the move. If you have been holding off communicating with him, now’s the time to change that.. A short e mail, a phone call, a visit, that means a lot to him and all of us.
Kierie, Summer, Donna, and Allison have been his cheerleaders….They are all amazing. He still has a long way to go in his recovery, but he’s got the best cheerleaders on the planet. More to come later.

I will add that Gabe is still on course with his rehabilitation. The plasticity in his brain is ever creating new pathways for impulses to finally get from his active brain through the dense Maine/brain wilderness undergrowth to those recalcitrant distant muscles.

Speech is more certain and stronger. Telephone communication more secure. The phone is right by his bedside when you want to give it a try and surprise him. Call Kierie or me to get his new number. With more speech comes our ability to better understand how he is feeling. He and I have started a computer journal of profound thoughts. I was interested to learn from him yesterday that he is newly aware of the passage of time “Time passes by now”. He said this awareness came to him that very day. Coincidentally this morning his seizure medication had just dropped another 250 mg, now half on its way to being eliminated from his med mix. So he is very tuned into the finest of body changes.

His visits outside the facility are taking on a change and complexity thank you very much Kierie. Any wheelchair accessible restaurant with a vegetarian offering is fair game to the two of them. Summer’s surprise 30th birthday party at Fiddleheads in Bangor is an example with their wheel chair stair glide. The personable owner of the local Pakistani restaurant rushes to clear their special table when he sees Gabe line up his wheelchair with the door. Gabe comes home every Sunday and gets out two or three times on other days of the week. “Spamalot”  at the Collins Center was a success even though Gabe had to get there in my Windstar (the Fajita wheelchair van was torn apart in the garage for major fuel injector replacement) and sit for two hours in the less than stellar manual wheelchair. Kierie will soon tell you about their trips to Bangor Forest and Acadia carriage trails.

Of course bike riding is still the favorite therapy. What better way to increase balance, lung capacity, stamina, and coordination. Gabe has tried a few three wheeled recumbents and Kierie is honing in on the perfect one. It will be ordered and here in time for those late fall 45-50 dg riding days. A pre-Halloween event we hope.

When not bike riding its walking that is the next favorite of Gabe’s activities in PT. He is at the point of using one Canadian style crutch (the kind with the forearm support) on his right and strong physical therapist, Belinda, supporting and channeling energy to his weak left side. Less favorite but important, just about every form of electrical therapy there is, is applied daily to his body to relearn the coordination of muscles and nerve impulses: e-stim of facial muscles, left fore and upper arm, left calf and thigh.

Medications are changing weekly as muscle spasticity relaxants are on the increase and brain activity stimulants coming under control so as not to increase heart rate unnecessarily. Seizure meds are dropping out entirely with a nice slow, controlled exit.

The layout of his room has changed to incorporate more central space and a long sideboard style high desk to accommodate computer access. Computer refresher lessons have begun with Tom, a friend whose computer, VJ, and biking interests match Gabe’s.

SO this is just a snapshot without the pictures. Kierie’s broader view into Gabe’s life will soon follow so stay tuned. Keep sending in those cards and letters and plan those fall visits.

Those of you who visit or send your good thoughts and prayers, please keep it up. Your–Our dream for Gabe is coming true.

Fondly,
Donna

Most important for our bicycle comrades, Gabe IS receiving daily Tour de France coverage on the television network Versus, channel 63 at Brewer Rehab. I got back from my bike trip to Nova Scotia expecting a whole lot of loving, but we ended up watching the Tour for two hours instead. True womance. Yesterday we watched on and off between therapies and during meals—he’s quick to unmute after the commercial breaks.

The last weekend in June, one of our friends, Zach, invited us to a bowling birthday bonanza, formal attire kindly requested. Gabe and I dedicated the evening prior to baking chocolate cayenne cupcakes. I set up all the ingredients, then he dumped them in and mixed altogether; I put and removed from the oven, and he mixed and applied the icing.

Bakin’ cupcakes for Zach

The next night was the bowl. He opted to sit and enjoy vs. bowl, drinking in the crowd, the music, and the bowling balls rolling down the lanes (or gutters). One of his first journeys out of Brewer Rehab was to the nearby dollar store, which he found overwhelming–how can a dollar store NOT be overwhelming and completely distracting? The lights, color, music, people, and product fits together on a grid of aisles and shelves that’s a perceptual challenge for his brain scramble. But he was clear on the fact that he enjoyed this experience, and wanted to get used to public environments again. From that time to the bowling party, he’s finding greater focus and less struggle in perceiving everything at once. He needs supervision and assistance navigating, but nevertheless he’s making a step forward.

Sitting, enjoying the bowling party / Evidence he’s retained his sense of humor

Also at the end of June, Gabe and I had a pre-birthday birthday celebration prior to my Nova Scotia trip. We put on fine duds and attended a One-Act play, Under the Big, Blue Tarp, at the Penobscot Theatre in downtown Bangor. A comedy, it lasted 70 minutes and his newly audible laugh—a staccato mmm—echoed to my left more than a few times. The next play was a drama so we beat it onto Main, passing through the Gay Pride Festival to ice ourselves out on iced coffee at our coffeehouse of choice, Giacomo’s (“Jah-cah-moes,” Gabe says for each time I slip with “guaca-mole”).

In the Penobscot Theatre before the show / Passing through Gay Pride Fest

We cruised on foot & wheel up to the little street where Summer and her man Larry reside; Allison, G’s best college chum, and I also live in surrounding apartments. All three pads are upstairs or downstairs, so we were content to sit beside the basil and hops. Summer showered G with chocolate-covered strawberries and pretzels she had just made. The two of us took off to a womance-filled dinner at Fiddlehead, an illustrious dining experience.

Sampling Summer’s chocolate-covered pretzels and strawberries

Sipping bellinis in the window of Fiddlehead

4th of July weekend, our good friend from NYC, Andras, zoomed north on his motorcycle. He spent two days hanging out, to which Gabe recounted happily to me by phone. I could literally hear him smiling. That same weekend, a holiday BBQ at Summer’s went down, complete with bocce. The maple leaf hats are handcrafted by Brie. I wasn’t there for this, but did talk with Gabe the next day from a payphone in Baddeck, Nova Scotia. He sang from memory “The Star-Spangled Banner,” recalling 90% of the words—even I don’t know that much.

Andras visits

The Maple King / Wild action shot of bocce

Under Donna’s guidance, he’s been cranking out real, handwritten letters as of late. Writing is an activity she attacked as early as October and November. It started as an exercise just to get the pen tip to touch paper, cluing us into the depth of field issues he experienced at the time. When that was mastered, she began with his name. While that was the one word we could read, the remainder of his letters was small, cramped, and indistinguishable as shapes. As time proceeded, his words became easier to read. By late winter, he began signing cards, whispering the special messages he wanted written inside. Looking at the product of his writing exercises, we joked that his handwriting was as bad as it was before the bike crash. Since arriving in Maine this May, Donna’s picked up pencils, pens, crayons, colored pencils—all of varying thickness—to use on printing paper, lined paper, graph paper, and children’s writing pads. What’s yielded the best results I’m not sure—you have to ask her! But what you can see overall is an undeniable return to his former, legible handwriting, albeit oversized. She’s given him as much practice as possible, and now he’s writing his own full-blown messages in birthday cards, Father’s Day cards, and thank-you cards.

Writing sample: June 2010 vs. February 2009 (bottom right)

Two weeks ago, Gabe received a Botox treatment in his left arm, and lower calves to release excess tone. Recap: constantly firing neurons create high amounts of tone present in certain muscles, causing them to work 24/7. We referred to this earlier as spasticity, which is an aggregate amount of tone, however his spasticity is so mild now that we hear it now referred to simply as tone. Still, it’s enough to keep his left arm from fully extending, thus the Botox treatment to freeze the muscles and allow the triceps to kick in vs. the ever-active bicep. After the 10-14 day period to hit its peak, he’s moving that left arm and the left leg a bit more easily. And you thought Botox was just for erasing wrinkles.

Myes.

We’ve some good events planned for the summer, to include some fishing at a handicap-accessible pond in the area, a trip to Bar Harbor, and a couple of weddings. He’s recently had some practice getting in and out of Donna’s minivan, so with a little bit more perfected sitting balance and magically attaining a non-power wheelchair, he can try to manually push himself around and we’ll be able to ditch the Fajita van on some outings (the Fajita van is actually really wonderful, except Gabe sits so high that he can’t see out the windows! Also, unable to sit in front passenger seat since one has to climb up into it).

I bring up the following because it’s a fact he’s quite happy about: Gabe’s hair loss has abated. “What?” you say, to which I respond, “Yes, hair loss.” From late February to end of March, Gabe’s ‘do thinned rapidly from forehead to crown, ear to ear. Donna perceived this quickly and noted it to medical staff, who explained that it could be stress-induced, medication-induced, or just that time for that particular chromosome to set free some hair follicles. Certainly his stress isn’t any less, so we attribute it to a specific medication he was on for six weeks. Since discontinuation, his hair has filled back in completely and it’s cut as short as ever to fight off the summer heat. FYI, his ability to grow a beard never slackened, as evidence by the moustache he sported for three months.

As you can probably guess, what you read here can be watered down from the dramatic and comedic instances that happen. You don’t hear about the play-by-play of insurance calls, medical concerns, rehab ups and downs, uncountable victories, and conversation exchanges because either they weren’t worth writing about at the time, or what was more likely, we were just too sensitive to share them. But I feel like the line between what’s shared and what isn’t has rapidly faded in recent months. Gabe is medically stable and has had a remarkable return to himself mentally, emotionally, as well as his intelligence. If one only has THE TIME and THE PATIENCE to sit, speak, listen, and observe, the pre-accident Gabe is easily picked out from the fumbling of relearning how to speak, to move, to grasp all that is perceptually going on in a room or environment. He’s so alive and ripe with utter Gabeness as ever before.

G-Star & Kierie