Chapter Thirteen: Yum, Yum, Cream of Wheat to Celebrate Homecoming

I thought there might be an epilogue to the epilogue last night. There was such good news and progress and the day kept going. Phoebe suddenly became very tired and she ZONKED. Just when I thought that she was out for the night, she perked up and we started talking. She told me that she would be Jim if she were at Dunder-Mifflin. She'd be the normal person thriving in the midst of the comical dysfunction of the team. I can't help but think that she already feels like she's fulfilling that role in the Miller Family. Note to self. Hmmmm, that's a talk for later. When I told her that we may need an epilogue to the epilogue she perked up but quickly told me that she was too tired to be funny. She did do some web-surfing and reading of e-mails. Thanks to those of you who have contacted her. She's been enjoying the interaction.

So, Monday CC Day +3 promised the possibility of a homecoming but it was too soon. It is Tuesday, CC Day +4 and the homecoming is imminent. It's a bit comical to see how the doctors and care team work. Each team has been verbally supportive - and I dare say impressed - with her moxy and progression. Each of them has independently suggested that late Tuesday afternoon would be a possibility for discharge. The discharge depending upon two major things. Eating (as it were) with fluids, and caloric input and her PT progress on Tuesday. So we've had this target for which to shoot and Phoebe has been "game" to hit the bullseye. We record all of the ounces and what each thing is to track her nutrition process. It's tough! She's got to have it, but everything is a chore. She has gotten really good at being independent with her feeding. She's got a 60 ml syringe. We put most anything in it and she puts the tube in her mouth where some teeth are missing. She squeezes most everything in through the space and is the mistress of her feeding regimen. This works well for all concerned. For those of you who don't know her closely, she is independent and bright. It's tough to fool her. When she is in charge and knows the "rules of the game" she does better. So anyway, she take the syringe and holds it upside down with the plunger on her stomache and pushes down. Everyone has said, "You'll bruise yourself." It doesn't make a difference - it's her method and it works. No problemo. So the night went uneventfully after we settled down. A potty break and some pain meds were the only interruption. I feel a bit guilty this morning because we didn't get going until after 8:30 a.m. There was a visit from an ortho Dr. but both Phoebe and I slept through it. Does this make us bad people? Breakfast arrives. It is a definite sign that we need to get going. 1 oz. of Apple Juice, 4 oz of Orange Juice, 4 oz. of Apple Juice and a loooonnnnnggggg protracted discussion of Cream of Wheat. I don't know about you, but I grew up on Cream of Wheat. There were never grits, grits is/are a southern thing. There was occaisionally oatmeal, but a hot breakfast at the Miller home was primarily Cream of Wheat. I liked mine sweet, buttery, and milky. To this day I treat my grits the same way. I have come to accept the ridicule that accompanies my preparation of grits because any true southerner knows that grits are fixed with salt, pepper, and maybe a dash of butter. Hardcore southerners make up red-eye gravy for their grits. After a bit of negotiation and a foraging trip to get lots of sugar, I fill the syringe with what promised to be the BEST Cream of Wheat ever. I used every bit of my Food Network knowledge to ensure that it had the right texture, color, sweet and savory mixture to wow an Iron Chef. Phoebe balked. She balked some more. Carol arrived and we started back at square one in the negotiation. We re-arrived at one syringe (2oz.). In a last minute twist of fate the nurse entered and the girls won the exchange. 1 oz. was sufficient. Phoebe grinned that crooked grin with her jaw wired shut as she grabbed the syringe from me to slurp the Cream of Wheat. She downed it in no time. It went down so easily that I couldn't resist an attempt at taking some momentum back by saying, "Here, I'll fill it up and you can easily swig down another." 1, 2, 3, 4, dead silence. So much for momentum. More doctors each of them indicating today would be discharge and homecoming but each of them ceded their responsibility to the next. I began to think we'd have another day just because no one would say she's good. Our physical therapist shows up with a wheel-chair. Let's get some pain meds in her so that we can do "the stairs". One half hour later and Phoebe is driving for the first time in her life. She rockets her walker across the room to the wheel-chair and manuevers herself into the seat as if she has been doing this her entire life. Wow she is impressive. She does have some issue steering the wheel-chair. After a few pushes down the hall, she gets the hang of stopping or breaking one wheel and pushing the other to make the turns. We did a few donuts in the lobby to get the full hang of things. Look out folks Phoebe is on the move. We wheeled to the end of the hallway to find a set of stairs. Phoebe deftly gets up into the walker. Whitney and I think she put some weight on the leg. Phoebe says she didn't. Discussion about which foot goes first climbing and descending, and she is at the stair. She is able to climb up, and turn around. This was all a bit overwhelming so she sits and rests while we talk strategy about how our home is arranged. Whitney gives the green light for the trip home from her perspective. She, however, indicates that someone else will make the decision. This is too funny considering that even the trauma doctor gave her the ultimate authority. LOL. We get back to the room, Phoebe negotiates to the bed and starts lunch. 2.5 oz. of OJ, 2 oz. of a shake, 1.5 oz of OJ, 4 oz. of apple juice and 4 oz. of chicken broth. Annie from trauma arrives. Apparently she and Whitney have spoken, she is actually willing to commit to a Tuesday homecoming on CC Day +4. Woohoo. Phoebe asked to have the laptop to catch up on world events and the weather. She checks a few e-mails and is now resting until the occupational therapist comes. She's going to learn how to use the shower chair and take a shower. We'll try to make sure she doesn't use all of the hot water in Wake Med. I'm sure in hingsight she'll consider this one of her top showers of a lifetime. TTYL.

Chapter Twelve: When is Hump Day on Monday Not Wednesday? Epilogue

After discussion between the trauma doctor's and pediatric nurses, it was determined that our fears had become a reality. Phoebe's thirst and hunger urges were so suppressed that she is not taking in nearly enough nutrition. This has got to be counteracted in order for Phoebe to be discharged. The plan is now to reduce the IV drip dramatically. This should re-start Phoebe's thirst and hunger reflex. We're also being more direct with eating. The syringe we got yesterday is now in full use. She is missing enough teeth that we can place the tube attached to the end of the syringe into the hole and pump in the liquid nutrition. We're now also monitoring ounces and ml of intact. We're looking now at a Tuesday discharge - God willing. Phoebe made it through her physical therapy and was given a couple of assignments. She has to sit up in a chair and to work the broken leg at least once an hour. She is also stepping up and showing her ability to take charge of her situation. She is controlling the syringe and is adjusting blankets, leg position, etc. I am proud of her. I finally got to the hospital this afternoon after taking care of a few things on my way. A quick stop at the Avent Food Lion to touch base with the Carol's bosses the awesome store managers - they've been great in their support of Phoebe and our family. A stop at Combs to drop off a science fair project early. A stop at Centennial to drop off another science fair project and I'm on my way. Thanks to Combs and Centennial folks they've been awesome as well. We are so fortunate. Live in the now and be thankful, you will be rewarded. Our family can't thank our extended family nearly enough. You've all been awesome!
So I'm back here on the Pediatric Floor and I'm amazed to enter the room and see Phoebe sitting up in chair reading a book. Apparently she and Carol took the assignment seriously. By the time I got here she had read her e-mails, world current events, and had started a book that some generous person had gotten for her to read. She sat in the chair for the better part of three hours. We've really been pushing the liquid diet now that she has so little IV fluid. It's been a negotiated battle of wills. Her appetite really hasn't returned but we all know she has got to "eat". Two ounces, here, three ounces there, some type of energy shake. We count the ounces and write them on the whiteboard. She is definitely monitoring as well. As we try to push more rather than less she'll let us know. I believe that I was growled at twice. She was nicer to Kim. She only growled at her once! Carol gets her stuff together to go intercept the girls from school. On her way out she gives Phoebe a big hug and kiss. Without thinking she put her hands on Phoebe's face to kiss her forehead - OUCH! Phoebe let her know it. Carol not only got a growl, it was in the bass range. Phoebe is beginning to look and act so healthy that we're forgetting how hurt she still is. Poor thing - I stop far short of the Southern expression of "Bless her heart." The more generic "Bless your heart" takes on a range of nuanced meaning. Us Northerners mostly don't get the fact that there is a level of scornful pity in most of them even though as the expression is being uttered it is one of the sweetest things a person can hear.
Not too long after that we can see Phoebe winding down. It's been a long day and it is just 4:00 p.m! As she gets ready to transition back to the bed, Tim, Justin, and Erin show up. For those of you who haven't read past blog postings, they are the visitors from Chapter-six-action-packed-operating room. They are eager to visit and Phoebe is eager to have them in. They knew the ground rules - Phoebe will give you the high sign when she can't keep awake any longer. Everything else is fair game. I clear the room and let them talk their talk. I'm certain I wouldn't understand... I'm back in the room. Phoebe can't remember how long they visited but she is WHOOPED! Kim and I keep nudging her to stay awake long enough to drink. We're not successful for long. We'll save the chicken broth until later. At one point we both had to chuckle. We were counting ounces consumed and we both underestimated the amount to create compelling argument for Phoebe to drink more. She growled and lifted her hand and pointed at the whiteboard which had clearly shown that we were conspiring against her to undercut her real consumption. We chuckled as we made eye contact. She had caught us red-handed. We were like to kids with our hands in the cookie jar before dinner. "Bless our hearts." She's scheduled for the chicken broth and vitals at 8:00 ish so there may be an epilogue to the epilogue!

Chapter Twelve: When is Hump Day on Monday Not Wednesday?

It is CC Day +3. The girls and I are at the house this morning. Soph got going before my alarm went off. She's such a doer and leader. I got Na going at normal time. The two of them packed much of their lunch while watching the Super Bowl. They had been rooting for the Saints - they weren't satisfied that I had no dog in the fight. They pressured me into rooting for the Saints. We talked a bit about the history of the French Cajuns, persecution, religious freedom, and underdogs. Not a bad thread for an old guy and two bright young ladies. They convinced me that we've had a few days of rooting for the underdog and the oppressed while dealing with Phoebe's situation. Touche - out of the mouths of babes. I made sure to do my best work brushing Na's hair. Her last day of school had been Friday - the morning Phoebe had been hit in the crosswalk. The timing of Friday morning was such that Carol had thrown on clothing and had run out of the house. Na had done her best to brush her hair but isn't quite capable. I wanted to be sure and do a good job because in our discussion after the accident, Na brought up the fact that Mommy hadn't been able to brush her hair and she wondered why Mommy had left the house in such a hurry. Mental note: If you let them, people will tell you what is important to them. Remember this and act on it accordingly and everyone will be a bit better off.
Carol called with the morning update. She and Phoebe had a great night. Carol called me in the morning after they got going with a status update. First an editorial comment. I am the luckiest man in the world and I know it. The events of the last few days have provided affirmation of this fact with the catastrophy but I have tried not to lose sight of this long before the Crosswalk Chronicles became a necessity. One of the things that makes me such a lucky man is the relationship I have with Carol and the girls. They are all unique and simultaneously very similar - as you can well imagine, there are a lot of quirks in there. One of the quirks that I most admire of "my girls" is their love of Jane Austen and old movies. Before we got Netflix, it wasn't an uncommon occurence for me to come home late and find the four of them in the master bedroom eating popcorn while watching old movies or a Jane Austen flick on Turner Classic Movies. They, of course, were only allowed to eat popcorn on Daddy's side of the bed by Carol's Edict. Gee thanks. While their activities are not my thing they are my thing. My thing is anything that makes my girls happy. When they get together, chat, crochet, knit, sew, craft, and watch old movies I am happy because they are happy. This little editorial sidetrip was necessary to set up the evening that Phoebe and Carol had on CC Day +3. According to Carol Phoebe rested and then was AWAKE and raring to go. They've been watching a series called Emma on PBS for the last several weeks. The two of them, as afficionados of all things Jane Austen, gave it high enough marks that it was worth watching. So, it's Sunday evening - never mind the Super Bowl, they're watching Emma. They watched Emma and, from what I understand, Phoebe was still wakie, wakie so she opened up the laptop and watched episodes of "The Office" and something else. Phoebe would be a star employee of Dunder Mifflin. Now that we haven't lost her and I have a chance to, I need to ask her more about her preference in characters and why. From what I understand, she has watched all the episodes through Season Five! Minus the popcorn, this could have been any evening at the Miller household. This is a relief but also a bit scary. Her recovery has been so rapid that our routine is becoming routine again. Please refer back to Chapter Eight: How are Physical Therapy and Visitors Alike for my thoughts on the up-side and dangers of resiliency and human nature. There can be NO ONE else hurt in the crosswalk. We've got to make sure that something is done about a viable and safe solution to a dangerous crosswalk. We need action! Without action nothing will change and the Avent West, Athens Drive Community will be faced with this again. It's not a matter of IF, it is a matter of WHEN. So anyway, Carol tells me that she and Phoebe had a great night. She and Carol slept well - as a matter of fact, Carol said that she didn't wake up until one of the doctors arrived. What more could we ask? Normalcy in the face of adversity. Carol told me she had a good shower - she didn't rank it up there as high as I did, but she told me she read the blog - we're still talking then - coool. I've not been too reserved about what I write, I'm sure it has been more than she would have put "out there." If we're still talking after she has read it, then there is hope. LOL. So, when is Hump Day on Monday, Not Wednesday? You've guessed it. According to the trauma team, Day 3 post-trauma is Hump any day of the week. All of the aches and pains that weren't there before come to the surface, trauma pain amplifies, swelling is at its greatest, etc. Phoebe definitely has had her own Hump Day. As the doctors came through and did their inspections and check-ups the question was asked of her, "So Phoebe, on a scale of one to ten, how's your pain?" This morning she flashed eight fingers! The highest of all. Poor kid. She had a dose last evening but nothing since then. She's been struggling through this - wow. The nurses administered a dose and let it take affect prior to physical therapy. Stay tuned for a Chapter Twelve epilogue.

Chapter Eleven: Phoebe Loves the Spa

It is Sunday afternoon and Nicole and Phoebe scheduled an afternoon "spa". Nicole explained that when she works with older young adults on the pediatric floor she schedules appointments with them. They like being in charge and there are no surprises. So, it's time for the spa and I need to beat a hasty retreat because this is definitely a girl thing. Carol and Nicole work to bath and manicure Phoebe. She especially liked having her hair washed. They've got some kind of really cool no rinse shampoo in a shower cap arrangement. Phoebe had been looking forward to this moment for at least a day. She is a bit quirky when it comes to water. She loves showers and will frequently receive scoldings for using up the contents of the entire hot water heater. She doesn't particularly like pools or the hot tub. She does, however, LOVE the ocean. She has no qualm about going to Myrtle, Wrightsville or Carolina Beach and getting in the water in late October or Early November. After all, it is the ocean.
We are worried about her nutrition. There is talk of being discharged on Monday. I can't believe it, but there is a distinct possibility. She has had little urge to eat or drink and we've had to monitor her intake closely in addition to the IV drip. Hopefully this won't be an issue down the road. Her sisters and their friends have come to the hospital to begin a regular family routine in the midst of the chaos. The plan is that they'll go home with me and I'll see them off to the bus. Carol will stay the night with Phoebe. The kids bring a surprise for Phoebe. Being the creative and technical geniuses that they are, they filmed a music video tribute for her. They chose to lip sync to Help, from the Beatles. Ooops, we'll have to postpone the world premier. There were some complications of the Mac video format and the Windows format on the computer in her room. "Hello, I'm a Mac and I'm a PC." "We don't like each other and we refuse to play nice - it doesn't matter who needed to see  what promised to be a Cannes Film Festival Palm D'Or prize winner." The talk migrated towards Phoebe's impending diet regimen. There has been a lot of discussion about what people are willing to eat in a liquified form just to eat food that they love. I've heard some tame stuff and some wild stuff. Phoebe had made my stomache queasy on Saturday morning when she suggested that she would love the bacon Carol and I were eating in a liquid shake - eeeewwwww yuck! To each his own. Kristin, never one to back down from a challenge, said, "Phoebe, what's your favorite food?" After a minute Carol and Phoebe both responded with, "Grilled cheese." Actually Carol said, "Grilled cheese" and Phoebe said, "Grrrrr Sheeesh" through her immobilized teeth. Ah, the gauntlet had been thrown! Kristin is now working on the secret formula for liquified grilled cheese sammiches. I'm sensing a cottage industry about to blossom. Stay tuned.

Chapter Eleven: Three Steps Forward, One Step Back

CC Day +2 -This morning has been pleasant. The news has all been good. Phoebe got a good night's rest. As far as I could tell the only time she was up was when the nurses helped her to the potty chair. As we get going in the morning the usual sequence of specialists enter and assess the situation. The first, and apparently the most important of all in the big scheme of things, is the trauma doctor. "How's the leg Phoebe?" A muffled OK may be heard escaping from her "wired" jaw. "Does it hurt more or less than before?" Another muffled response, "About the same." She then, out of habit, holds up four fingers. She has become accustomed to the ubiquitous pain management question, "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain do you have?" She beat the doctor to the question and I felt like four was a lot at that point - given the fact that upon arriving in trauma on Friday morning, she had only held up five fingers!? The doctor acknowledged the level but chose to move on to the dressing. She doesn't have a cast - soft or hard. She was simply wrapped to cover the incision for the operation and the screw holes for the pins holding the titanium rod inside the hollow of her tibia. The leg looks amazingly good. It is bruised and swollen but is otherwise OK. He gives the nurses and her physical therapist the order that she should begin placing weight on it as is comfortable (I couldn't imagine that there is any such word in Phoebe's current lexicon). Phoebe's breakfast arrives and her nurse Nicole comes in. The answer to the pain level of four fingers becomes apparent. Phoebe had a liquid dose of oxycoton the evening before prior to the move, but is currently on no other pain medicine. I was dumbfounded! You mean she's dealing with all of this on her own? Nicole says, "Yes, we're monitoring the level and will use the oxycoton or possibly high strength tylenol as needed." She further clarifies by saying that children tend to be less willing than adults to take the pain meds as they mend because they don't like the way the meds make them feel. Oh, I knit my brows in amazement as I ask, "She is dealing with the broken jaw, head trauma and broken leg completely on her own?" Yes she is but we still have orders to administer pain meds as needed. Wow! This kid has more moxie in her little finger than I have in my body. Nicole and I  briefly discuss her nutritional needs. She has been eating or drinking far too little. She just doesn't feel like it. We've got to switch to a more direct approach to ensure she is hydrating and getting nutritional needs. I gave her some orange juice and grape juice. They brought a vanilla Mighty Shake today. Even if Phoebe had been wanting something the day prior, everything was chocolate. She's one of the very few kids in the world who refuses to eat chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate! We drink almost half of the shake in little increments. I can't imagine how difficult it is to make a seal around the straw and then the amount of suction it takes to pull the viscous liquid up into her mouth. Her lips are swollen and sore, her jaw is plated together, there are stitches everywhere. She does it anyway and we manage to drink about half of the shake. Nicole asks Phoebe if thee is something else she would eat. Phoebe volunteered applesauce. Nicole returned in a flash with applesauce. We tried the straw and it was simply too thick. I dripped some into her mouth and Phoebe inhaled it around the teeth that are remaining to a place where teeth are missing. She managed to get some of it but it was all too much. I gently wiped her lips and face and applied some vaseline. I used some other cream on her stitches, cuts, and swollen eye. Phoebe rested for a few minutes. This morning she has told me repeatedly that she is so tired. I think she has a bit of a regression. She has progressed so far so rapidly that she couldn't possibly sustain such a rapid recovery. Although it is only a single step backwards, it represents the enormity of the situation we've been facing and the immense courage Phoebe has displayed in the face of absolute adversity. Even Ms. Miraculous has limits.
Phoebe's Physical Therapist arrives and begins the preparations to get Phoebe up and moving. Word on the street was that they were going to do stairs today!? Just as Phoebe is sitting on the side of the bed with her feet on the floor and ready to stand up, her Oral Surgeon arrives with one of the trauma doctors. The Physical Therapist helps her back to a sitting position in bed and promises to return in 45 minutes. They have the new type of bands to restrict Phoebe's jaw and a hemostat to place the bands. We had wrestled with the bands on Saturday and had ended up settling for less than we wanted because everything was so difficult to do. The two of them managed to get three of the new bands on each side. Now she was actually restricted as they intended all along. Her jaw strength is not great enough to overcome the tension on the bands. Phoebe rested again. She was exhausted from the Oral Surgeon's work. Her Physical Therapist returned after a few minutes and they got Phoebe back to the edge of the bed. With a walker in front of her, she took several tentative steps. Although she is so weak and hesitant she forged ahead. The two of them took a walk into the hallway and made a big loop as I attempted to follow along with her IV drip hanger. She has no other monitoring devices on her at this point. We took about five minutes to make the loop. As far as I was concerned we had just climbed Mount Everest. I continue to be awed by the heart that this young lady is displaying. After settling in, she again tells us how tired she is. We promise to let her rest after Nicole and I talk about when she could get a proper sponge bath and hair wash.Somewhere in this timeframe Carol arrives. She did get some rest at the house last night but not enough. After arriving home late, she took the time to wash dishes, rearrange Phoebe's room, clean house, and do laundry. I'm not the brightest guy in the world so you'll bear with me as I postulate that Phoebe gets her determination from Carol! Although I've known it all along, I guess it  has taken a catastrophe like this to see clearly how similar the two of them are. I tell Carol how much I love her and give her a much deserved hug and kiss. Arrangements are made for Phoebe's "spa" at 2:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon. Carol and Nicole plan the ablution. Phoebe is then able to sleep. She is able to sleep through a number of visitors and the trauma physician's assistant's visit. We discuss her progress, and prognosis. Everything is moving so rapidly. There is even discussion that she may be discharged on Monday. To have a near death Crosswalk Collision (CC) accident on Friday and then be discharged on CC Day +3 is nothing short of amazing. I hope we're not rushing this too much. Enough for now. We'll catch up later.

Chapter Ten: Another Night - More Restful than Crosswalk Crash Day 1

While I visited with some friends of mine, Carol got Phoebe settled in and ready for bed. I took the time to eat a proper dinner. Paul and I ate in the cafeteria at Wake Med. The food was very good, Paul and I spoke about work and family as we listened to a gentleman play a beautiful grand piano in the cafeteria. I couldn't figure out whether it was planned or spontaneous - either way it was beautiful. Someone put a tip cup out. Unfortunately I didn't have any money. I walked out without sharing any monetary gratitude. I did, however, say thanks. What a pleasant surprise to have a live performance at 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday evening. I got back to the room and Carol and I did some strategic planning. We knew that at least one of us needed to be fresher than we were from the night before and determined that a night in our own bed at the house would be the best remedy. We drew straws (not really) and I believe that I won because I got to stay by Phoebe's bedside. Rita showed me this fancy bed-chair sleeping contraption and got some linens. I want to rest but my mind is still racing so I am going to try to get caught up with e-mails and phone calls. There is still family who has not yet been notified. It's only CC Day +1 but it feels like a week has passed. I am finally able to dig up numbers for my siblings. Everyone is dealing with the recend snow in Pennsylvania. It could have been worse is what I kept hearing about the snow. This statement came back around like a boomarang when I called my sister who is a trauma nurse. About a minute into the conversation, the realization came rushing back about how fortunate we are to have Phoebe with us at this time. One half step, just one half step and she wouldn't have been alive - Becky knows and lives this fact on a day to day basis. Our combined understanding of the divine intervention hung in the air for a few seconds as we both thought of the alternatives. I got back to the room made final arrangements with Carol and settled into bed. Phoebe is resting comfortably. This is wonderful news because she'd not really been able to rest up to this point. This bed-chair thingy is waay cool. After some doing, it unfolded like a Japanese wood puzzle. Each piece accomplished just the right dual purpose, a toe-kick became the foot of the bed, a seat cushion unfolded to become the mattress and another type of cushion completed the head of the bed. Man, I am tired. I can't wait to sleep! Trying to be helpful, I aroused Phoebe to suggest that she use the potty chair. I would work with the nurse to help her. She wanted nothing to do with it. I went to sleep and remembered hearing the nurses come in at 3:00 a.m. to accomplish the mission at hand. From what I understand, Phoebe got out of the bed with only a bit of trouble. She was so modest about the whole process that she handled everything herself. Rita told me that Phoebe made her leave the room - I couldn't help but laugh about the contradiction and irony in this situation. Phoebe being so independent and taking charge of the nurse. Rita was wonderful about respecting Phoebe's decision. I fell back asleep after being semi-aware of what was transpiring. It is now about 6:40 a.m. and I've had an opportunity to get showered and going as the parade of specialists begin their rounds. The shower felt great! There's nothing like a great shower and I've had a few in the course of my life that really hit the mark. This morning's shower was probably number three or four. My number one shower at a marina in the Chesapeake Bay after spending a freezing cold night on a sailboat after nearly losing the boat in a storm squall. I was at the helm as we were blown over from the sudden and massive gust of wind that whipped the boat like a toy in a bathtub. That shower felt awesome! My number two shower ever took place in the Mojave Desert while I was in the Army. I was on temporary duty station at Fort Irwin in the Nevada Desert. My company had just spent a March night out in the freezing cold forming attack skirmishes on American infantry soldiers. As OpFor (Opposition Forces) my company and I were simulating the battle tactics of Soviet troops against the Americans. I learned two things that night that has made me double-think stereotypes from that time forward. I learned that deserts aren't always hot. It was so cold that night that ice formed in our canteens. Number two - there is no precipitation in the desert. This is also false. It snowed almost an inch that night as we were skirmishing against the Americans. As we got back to the baracks early that morning I took a shower that was so hot my skin turned as red as a lobster's. I don't think I ever felt the heat because I, along with everyone else in my company was nearly frozen. This morning's shower ranks right up there. I am so thankful to clean up after two days of sitting and waiting, counting my blessings that I still have my Phoebe.

Chapter Nine: The Move - A Step in the Right Direction

Phoebe is resting comfortably. We can see her dreaming but it doens't appear to be a nightmare. We've just gotten word that she is taking the next step in her recovery. Not only has she taken the first steps since her accident, her next recovery step is the move from Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) to the Pediatric Floor. We are awaiting a resident discharge on the floor and will move her when the bed becomes available. There isn't any hurry. I can't help but wonder how things went for Phoebe's new room predecessor? God willing, they are on the mend. Another step is about to take place. I clear the room so that the nurses can remove her catheter. She'll now have to use the "big girl potty." It wasn't that many hours ago that Phoebe's middle sister had stood in the room while visiting and, in classic melodramatic fashion with her finger to her lips, she cleared her throat and said, "Hmmm, I have a question." Go ahead Soph, what's the question. "How does Phoebe go to the bathroom?" I pointed down to her catheter bag half full of urine as Carol said, "She has a bladder catheter. She doesn't have the normal urge to go to the potty, it just flows as needed." We both knew what was next and we beat her and her Phoebe's youngest sister to the punch. As if we had planned it, we said, "She hasn't eaten any food and hasn't had a bowel movement. The doctors and nurses work to keep that need to a minimum but if she did have to go, we'd just clean it up." Carol said, "It's natural, no big deal." Frank conversation is important with children. You shouldn't dance around issues. As we waited for the room the to become available, the PICU nurses administered her evening meds. She was taken off of a pain killer drip, given some oral pain medication and the promise was made that she could have additional if the pain became too much. We rested while waiting. Phoebe is absolutely exhausted after the longest Saturday of her life. She's on the mend and taking steps in the right direction towards a complete recovery. The move was a welcome relief. I couldn't believe how much stuff a person could accumulate in such a short time. I made three trips with books, bags, computers, and personal items. George Carlin had a great routine about "Stuff." How we collect "stuff" and then move the "stuff" from one place to another. I miss George. He was one of the greats. It is wonderful to laugh, you can't laugh too much. Speaking of laughing, we made the move from PICU to the Pediatric Floor. The nurses from PICU and "The Floor" had a great working relationship - it was obvious that there was a competitive but collaborative comaraderie between them. We joked and laughed about whose equipment was what with the possibility that there would be a raid on the floor if PICU didn't get all of their "stuff" back. It's great to be in a mental state that permitted laughter and to take steps in the right direction.

Chapter Eight: How are Physical Therapy and Visitors Alike?

Well, it's Saturday morning and it has been about 24 hours since Phoebe's life hung in the balance. It is clear now that, although she has very serious injuries, she is going to make a near, perfect recovery. Thank God for this. Despite this prognosis, it is important to remember that she has a long recovery ahead of her. It is important to make a note about human nature here - cockroaches aside, humans are probably one of the most resilient, if not the most resilient creatures on the face of the earth. This resiliency is both a blessing and curse. We have the wonderful ability to face even the most traumatic adversity head-on, deal with it, recover from it physically and emotionally, and then move on. This most wonderful of human traits is also one of our greatest challenges. We are SO good at recovering and moving on that we lose sight of the lessons. History has proven that we, without fail, repeat these traumas. We "recover" from them and fail to implement the steps necessary to break the cycle because we are so resilient that we have mentally and physically moved on when the time comes for substantive action. Talk about a blessing and a curse. I am editorializing - or is that philosophizing - here because Phoebe is recovering so quickly and will make a full recovery that there will be no constant reminder of the issue with the crosswalk. I fear that we'll be unable to make the necessary and appropriate LONG-TERM changes to prevent a repeat occurence. What are the chances that another student will have two (or three) guardian angels on their shoulders and will be one-half step back from their death? We know that lightning does strike twice in the same place.
We talked a bit about the day and time. Phoebe was surprised to hear that it was only 24 hours since the accident. We had one last impediment to mobility and that was about to change - we hoped. She was still wearing her neck collar and flexion/extension X-rays were scheduled. The orderly and I wheeled her downstairs after a dose of meds. She took the ride well but I was reminded of her pretty severe concussion when we spoke several times about the same trip down. She couldn't remember it and didn't know how we got to X-ray. Apparently the short-term memory loss is affecting her recall. I also knew that Phoebe wasn't completely herself as we were waiting for the X-rays. I stroked her forehead and hair and told her that I loved her and we were going to get through this. Ordinarily she wouldn't let me do that - she is shy and reserved and becomes embarrassed easily. She is the one who least likes it when Carol and I hug, kiss, and tell each other how much we love them. I hope that's just an age thing - people need to be open and receptive to caring and compassion. There's not enough love in the world. Phoebe went through the various contorsions to get the desired X-rays. They took the collar on and off multiple time and jostled her around to position her just so for the X-ray. She is a trooper - nary a word of dissent or pain from her. We returned to the room and prepared for a long wait to get the verdict. By the time we got settled in, the decision had already been rendered. The collar could come off. After a brief celebration, the collar was permanently removed. We were all surprised to hear that Phoebe didn't want to keep the nasty thing for a souvenir! We were informed that she would be getting physical therapy in a few hours and she should rest. After another question from Phoebe about what day and time it was - yes, it's still Saturday CC +1 (crosswalk crash) just about 30 minutes since the last time she asked. The day is shaping up to be interminable. Just then the oral surgeon entered. He had bands to put on the brackets attached to the extensive bridgework of braces installed during the surgery. She is supposed to have a minimum of three bands on each side. These bands hold her reconstructed jaw in place. For some reason, Phoebe didn't get the idea about keeping still and keeping her teeth together. She kept breaking the bands. Without the right tools they don't go on well. As three of us put our hands and fingers in various places on her lip and gums in an effort to make room and to reach the brackets, I kept thinking about how painful this must be for her. We finally ended up compromising with two bands on each side with the promise of better tools and different bands on Sunday. Phoebe rested until the PT ladies came. They got her up and Phoebe took four steps in her walker. She sat upright in a chair and attempted to type and do e-mail. By this time it was early afternoon on Saturday - shaping up to be one of the longest of her short life. Word was now out about Phoebe's location and friends and family began to drop by. She visited with many of them for a couple of hours. As the friends and family came and left, it was apparent that visitors and physical therapy are identical in the fact that they tire you out. Phoebe is resting soundly for the first time in two days. I will ask her what she dreamed about when she wakes up. I could see her eyes, hands, and legs twitching with dream-state activity. I hope she's not dreaming about a crosswalk...

Chapter Seven: Late Nights in Uncomfortable Chair-Beds

Our longtime friends offer (along with about 20 other of our friends) to take care of the two smaller girls for the evening and overnight to permit Carol and I to focus solely on Phoebe. The offers are gracious and make sense. Because of their familiarity with our North Hills friends, they make arrangements to swing past the house to pick up toiletries and jammies for a sleepover. Again, thank God for supportive friends and family. Our attention turns to Phoebe's situation. She is back from post-operative recovery. My god she looks rough. She has got to be so sore and to hurt so badly. One of the superb Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) nurses adjusts Phoebe's blankets. Phoebe thanks her. She then asks Phoebe, "Honey, on a scale of one to ten, what would you estimate your pain to be." Mentally I calculated that I would raise both hands and flash them twice - if I were her, I'd hurt about twenty! Phoebe says, "Two and holds up, two fingers." I cannot believe this child. Not more than ten hours ago she was hit by a car mirror about five times harder than the hardest mixed-martial arts fighter would hit. She didn't lose consciousness, and she says her pain is a two of ten. Man, I want this girl on my team. She is a rock! Carol and I look at each other and chuckle. I welled up with tears of relief of the whole experience - I don't think Carol did because she's where Phoebe got her indomitable spirit genes. We settled in for what promised to be a restful and relaxing night of unadaltered sleep - NOT. Although we were all dog-tired, sleep wouldn't come. True, the chairs recline but they are a far cry from my comfy home mattress. Don't even mention the fact that I was trying to use my jacket as a blanket. I was either sweating or freezing. No rhyme or reason to it. It was about that time that it hit me. Steve, you are such an idiot. You are in a warm hospital room with your daughter who is still very much alive. She is promising to make a full recovery and you are whining about a little discomfort on a strategically placed bed to monitor your daughter? Shut up and help her out. I'll also admit that I got more sleep than Carol she awakened each time a nurse came in to check a catheter or an IV, pain drip. I had flash backs to the days of babies in cribs awaiting their late-night feedings. Each time Phoebe would thank them for their help. I wasn't the only one who was amazed at her graciousness in the face of adversity. Five a.m. rolled around pretty quickly. The PICU ward started to come to life. Phoebe also awakened from her fitful sleep and began to ask questions. What day is it? What happened? Why am I here? We went over the details. It was Saturday. What day of the month is it Phoebe? We heard her do some mental math. It must be the 6th she says. What were you calculating? I have a tech meeting at Athens on Monday, February 8 for Little Shop of Horrors. She then volunteered that the car that stopped for her was red. She remembered a blue Jeep but couldn't remember anything else. We then talked of all of the people who are praying and rooting for her. I told her of the e-mails and I read a few of them. She asked me to read the message from Mr. Crockett to the staff. I did. She acknowledged her appreciation of his kind words of support. She then asked if I would write an e-mail to Ms. Z. asking for someone to tape the tech meeting because I had just told her that she wouldn't be making the meeting - despite her best intentions.We sent this e-mail and several others she dictated. The promise was given that she could get online ASAP to check her own e-mail and to begin sending notes of thanks. We read the card sent by her Algebra II class. They had been so creative! Phoebe was, again, bowled over by their kind thoughtfulness. The fact that we all almost lost this sweetheart of a young lady was lost on no one. The effects of her concussion became a bit more obvious when she repeatedly asked,  "What day is it?" and,  "How did we get he here for thes X-rays?" She was taken to Radiology for flexion and extension x-rays. Finally she was going to be able to get the neck brace off. Provided all went well, it wouldn't be a moment too soon. It was not only uncomfortable, it was also stained with blood from the injuries and operations. The radiology tech and I were both surprised that she declined to take the proferred neck brace as a souvenir. After several additional repeated queries about the day, date and time, Phoebe attempted some breakfast. While Carol and I ate some bacon and eggs, Phoebe drank some orange juice mixed with medicine. The topic of conversation naturally drifted to what would be edible if blended finely enough. Phoebe is certain that a bacon smoothie will be in her near future. Carol seemed to be right on board with that but I, for one, cannot imagine the grease as it coagulates and separates from the meat. Thanks but no thanks. Phoebe was finally tired enough that she took a bona fide rest.

Chapter Six: Action-packed Operating Waiting Room

Carol and I decided we'd have to divide and conqueur. There has been a tremendous outpouring of support from our friends, family, neighbors, and our Athens family. Oh my God, we are so fortunate to be in Raleigh, NC and not Port-Au-Prince Haiti.We can not imagine - not even the slightest clue how traumatic and serious the situation has been for the citizens of Haiti. Yes, we are facing our own family crisis but we are, again, so fortunate.  I take a call from a proactive AB Combs Elementary School Assistant Principal he is practicing the Covey Habits - Be Proactive, Think Win-Win, Synergize, he tells me that the accident has made the news.Daughter of Athens Drive Assistant Principal Struck in Crosswalk, Athens Drive High Freshman is Hit While Crossing to School. My neighbor calls, "Steve, what can we do to help? Call on us for anything." It's crunch time - neither Carol nor I want our daughters to hear that their sister has been critically injured while heading to school from anyone other than us. We've got to continue to be the strong family that we are. While Carol makes arrangements with all of the surgeons regarding Phoebe's impending operations, I head to to their respective schools to pick up the girls and to get supplies for little kids facing an interminable wait in a hospital waiting room. There is a time for everything and everything in its due time. Have you ever tried to keep a secret from inquisitive and observant 9 and 12 year olds? It's tough. I've got to keep my composure while they pepper me with questions. Dad, "Why are you picking us up?" "Why aren't we picking up mom?" "Since you've got both of us, are you going to go to Athens to pick Phoebe up as well?" "If Phoebe is at Athens, why is her bookbag in the car? Why was the strap cut off of her bookbag?" "Is Phoebe OK, is Mom OK?" They wouldn't stop! Finally we're home. "Girls, I've got something really important to tell you. Come here and sit on the couch." They simultaneously blurt out, "It's Phoebe. Is she going to be OK?" I tell them about Phoebe being hit by a car. I tell them about how strong she is. I tell them how lucky she is that it isn't worse and I also tell them that she is still in grave danger and we need to pull together as a family. We huddled and cried together for a few minutes. After our group hug they immediately began thinking about what to take to entertain Phoebe and themselves - but clearly Phoebe was first on their mind. There is that AB Combs Leadership and Problem-solving kicking in. I think to myself that I don't deserve such terrific kids. Not too long after this thought comes the thought that I could have just as easily been telling them that their sister Phoebe would not be coming home. They scrounge and come back with enough books for an entire class of high schoolers and tell me about her favorites, which one she is currently reading, and which ones we could read to her if she can't see to read herself. Of course they have her favorite stuffed animal and her Nintendo GameBoy - her retro favorite. Off to the jam-packed waiting room. The din of people, loudspeakers telling Family X and Family Y to pick up the phone or to meet Dr. So-and-So is overwhelming. There she is, I see Carol and she's smiling. Great! Things must be going well. Phoebe's orthopedist reports that her tibia and fibula have been handled. He takes the time to explain to the girls about how they put the titanium rod through the hollow middle part of her tibia, put it back together, and then put screws in it. Somebody asked if this means that Phoebe is a cyborg... The doctor reports that the oral surgeon is still at work reconstructing Phoebe's jaw and facial issues. He should be done within the hour. Friends, phone calls, and e-mails come and go, always wishing Phoebe and our family the best. The offers of assistance are overwhelming - I can't stop thinking how fortunate we are to be in such an excellent area to live and work with such wonderfully supportive people. We can't believe the outpouring of support for Phoebe. She is the luckiest kid in the Triangle this day! Hmm, as I look across the waiting room I see several young people who are familiar but the context is off. Oh my goodness. Here are three of Phoebe's Athens friends. Tim, Justin, and Erin recount their adventures in finding Phoebe. They heard the news and were bound and determined to find her. I am quite certain that the final count shows that they had been to every emergency room in Wake County and at least one in Orange County. They were bound and determined to show their support. We all laughed at the parallel to Ferris Bueller's day off. All three of the Miller girls LOVE the movie. There was a clear comparison between the news of Ferris's illness and the news of Phoebe's misfortune. We continue to be amazed at all of the wonderful young people who were taking time to show their support -even if it meant $50 in gasoline and the risk taken to sneak past hospital guards! After umpteen games of hangman, and beating the Nintendo DS at all of the games we have, the oral surgeon reports that Phoebe is resting. He has implanted the titanium plate in her jaw, fused the multiple fractures in other locations of the jaw, stitched her severly cut lip, eye, chin and cheek. From my recollection, he also explained that he has done his best to save seven teeth, extract what remained of two others, and assess what will have to be done with molars and two that are badly chipped. OUCH - I was cringing just thinking about the teeth, not to mention the fact that she would have her jaw banded shut for four to six weeks. Poor kid. She weighs 100 lbs dripping wet and would, more than likely, lose 10 - 15 pounds on a liquid diet. I heard Dr. Miller, phone call, Dr. Miller, phone call. I found that a media station was interested in an interview. Were it not for the crosswalk issue, Carol and I would have declined. I did the interview with the hope that people would appreciate the near-death experience of this courageous young lady and know that there should not EVER be another person who might face similar circumstances as a pattern, rather than the rare exception. Something has got to be done about that crosswalk. There has got to be a solution that is not cost prohibitive and is simultaneously a consistently safe option for every member of the Avent West Community who chooses to cross Athens Drive going to or from the school or library. While it is most immediately "about" Phoebe, it isn't at all about Phoebe. "It" is about finding a community crosswalk solution that will fix a problem.