The last fortnight has been characterised by some amazing highs, more interminable
waiting and some frankly shitty lows.
We are still waiting to hear about the named patient programme funding
for his next move. The options are; we
don’t get the funding which would mean going back to the drawing board (the
general consensus is that this won’t happen); or we get the funding and then
the decision will be which rehab unit we are given. The choices are a general neuro unit in
Boscombe and a brain injury rehab unit in Exeter. The best place for Jake is
undoubtedly the Woodmill in Exeter as it is much more specialised and better equipped
to deal with the behavioural challenges that are emerging, but we would be
happy for him to gain funding for either of these units; he is incredibly
unhappy in the acute hospital setting which is contributing to his
deteriorating behaviour.
Talking of which, mardy Jake has pretty much taken over. I wasn’t sure whether to share the extent of
this, but if you are reading this blog I am going to assume that you care about
Jake and me and therefore you will see this as part of our journey and not
judge based on this one stage. Jake has
started to come home mid-week for an afternoon to try and alleviate how unhappy
he is at the moment. These visits go
well until it is time to go home and I am gutted to say that today I have
bruised arms where Jake’s anger and frustration bubbled over. If this had happened before the accident I
would, quite frankly, have kicked him out.
But it isn’t my Jake doing this, it is his injured brain. I’ll be honest with you, I feel completely inept
and helpless to deal with this, which for someone who is used to always finding
a way around problems is completely defeating.
I tell him how angry and upset it makes me and he usually says sorry
afterwards and seems genuine; yesterday he was very upset about what he’d done so I told him that
it wasn’t him it was his injury and he replied ‘no…no excuses’, so he clearly
understands on some level.
The main problem with this change in behaviour is that it has stopped
him from co-operating in his rehab.
Basically he is taking control back by refusing. Refusing to join in, refusing to try, refusing
to get up, refusing to eat. This is both
frightening and unbelievably sad because everyone agrees that his potential is
huge, but if he doesn’t make the most of these opportunities now it will impact
on the quality of the rest of our lives.
The next move will be crucial for Jake’s progress and in two weeks we
should have the decision on the funding; please pray / wish / hope that we get
the right decision.
It’s not all bad news though and the amazing high was Jake’s Birthday
BBQ. If we are friends on Facebook you
will already know this, but it was a perfect day which culminated in a truly
magical moment…and me sobbing like a child!
The sun came out, our friends travelled from far and wide and Jake was
in excellent form. He was chatting away,
coped really well with the number of people present and even had lunch at home
for the first time. He blew out his
candles and was clearly having a wonderful time when he started to get
agitated. Normally this means that he is
overstimulated or tired so I attempted to encourage him back into the house,
but it would seem that this time the agitation related to a desire to be on the
patio where his best friend Mike was fulfilling the role of BBQ maestro. We were sat on our deck which is almost the
full length of the back of the house, leads straight out from the lounge and
has three steps down to the patio and the rest of the garden (sounds much
grander than it is!). In response to my
trying to wheel him backwards into the lounge Jake grabbed the table we were
sat around and started to pull himself forward, towards the rail that surrounds
the deck and, more worryingly, the steps!
He reached the railing and started to lift himself out of his chair and
as usual, his amazing friends Mike and Andy were on hand to help and rushed
forward to support him on each side. He
gripped the rail and STARTED WALKING towards the steps. Yes, I did say walking. Now, keep your pants on, he was being held
upright by the chaps and he would in no way be able to do this without that
(his right foot and ankle are still a real problem), but the determination on
his face was exhilarating. Oh, and then
he went down the stairs! I wailed and
sobbed like I was in a particularly bad amateur dramatics production of a schmaltzy
melodrama, though I know I was not alone in shedding a few tears; apparently dark
sunglasses can be very useful!
He then sat on a chair on the patio and looked very pleased with
himself, which let’s face it, is fair enough!
He went back to the hospital without any drama and I and everyone else at Korving Towers got satisfyingly drunk (again special mention goes to Andy and Mike who were both spectacularly squiffy!).
I will try and be more constant and prompt with future blogs, in the
meantime pleas keep doing what you do to send your hope to us. It makes all the difference.
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