Sunday, 19 February 2012

Faith in the future

Tomorrow Jake begins his rehabilitation journey. He has been medically stable now for weeks, is safely installed in boot camp, his weekly schedule has been agreed and we have met most of the team. He is also making real progress, but more of that later.

This move  to rehab has made me look back over the past 4 months and it feels like another country, one where we lurched from one overwhelming drama to another and the enormity of what had happened cast a heavy, menacing shadow over every part of our lives. Today I feel bizarrely removed from it all, almost as though I am looking back over footage filmed in another age that doesn't really relate to me.

I know for example, that in the first two weeks my heart was ripped from my chest as we were repeatedly told Jake was unlikely to survive and I felt a terror and pain that cannot be put into words, it was like someone was sandpapering my soul. I also know that over this period I felt frightened, abandoned, angry, lost, cheated, misunderstood, fiercely loved, cared for, supported and protected all at once. It feels now like it happened to someone else; like I have been able to observe and learn from a truly toxic experience without getting any on me! Odd.

Today I feel calm, strong, optimistic, hopeful and purposeful. It's almost as if before the accident my life was viewed through an old analogue TV; today it's a life viewed in high definition. Perspective is forever changed and it is now time to look forward and face a new future.

Don't fret, I'm not in denial and I do realise that we are at the start of what will no doubt be a frustrating, bloody and exhausting journey for us all. But a lesson that I was given some time ago by a lovely lady called Jess but am only just learning, is that you have to look for the good in every situation, you have to actively recognise the things you should be grateful for.

My husband has a severe brain injury, but he is alive. Our life has changed forever and many of the plans we had must be put aside, but we have new opportunities and I know with a certainty I have never felt before that we will make the most of these. We will have a good life; different, but good.

Today Jake continues to demonstrate that you should never write a Korving off. His ability to communicate continues to improve, as does his awareness and wakefulness. He still has the same sense of silliness that made me love him and when he rewards you with one of his full-dimple smiles it is the best feeling in the world. He has started to move his legs a little and his co-ordination is coming along although his fine motor skills are not great at the moment (scratching the right bit of his nose is a challenge sometimes). From the limited communication we have been able to have so far it seems that there may be some issues with past memories, but that's ok, we'll make better new ones. His determination is awe inspiring and I get a childish sense of glee when I see the surprised looks on the medical teams faces.

He is still bed bound, double incontinent, being fed through a tube in his stomach and there is still a Pandora’s box of potential problems to face; but he has already achieved so much more than expected and that's before he benefits from the expertise of the boot camp team.

I married an extraordinary man. I am grateful for that.

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