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.