Step Eight: Prepare for home.

On May 23, 2024, my husband, Jim Gallagher, entered the E.R. he worked in for 15 years, this time as a patient.  Within days he was fighting for his life as an infection that began in his foot raged throughout his body, and on June 4th, his leg was amputated below the knee in order to save his life.  This is an ongoing log of our journey.

Refuge.

Basquett Slough and I became good friends back in 2020.  “The Basket”, as I fondly call it, is a local wildlife refuge, and whenever my own life gets a little wild, it feels fitting to wander back there, remember how beautiful life is, and talk with Jesus as I hike the paths through the oak forest and listen to the birds confidently sing about life and its beauty.

It has been a minute since I was there, but I snuck out to The Basket before church last week, and as I always do, tried to bring the magic home by snapping photos.  It’s like trying to bring home the feel of the ocean in a small bottle—entirely inadequate.  Still, I persist in trying.

This week the Queen Anne’s Lace was bobbing in the breeze on the edges of the walking path, and I took delight in the delicate, resilient lace swaying suppley in the breeze, small and lovely and bendy.  Such a different strength and beauty from the stiff, strong oaks that cover the hill I walk though. 

The juxtaposition of the two—the oaks and the lace—remind me of just how different, and complementary, Jim and I are.  We are made with entirely different strengths—he strong and firm and unbending, I lending beauty and softness and flexibility to this partnership.  At The Basket, oaks cover the hills, and many animals take refuge in or beneath their branches.  But when the wind comes, those branches don’t bend much.  I recall once seeing an entire oak tree tipped over, still strong and stiff—it’s roots not able to support it’s bulk under the force of a natural storm or maybe a disease or parasite.   The Lace, however, grew on, bobbing and nodding and cheering and multiplying across the hillside.  Small, tender and bendable, the Queen Anne’s Lace has a different kind of resilience than the oaks.

Homecoming.

On July 23rd Jim will be released to home.  Imagine!

That day will be exactly two months since Jim was admitted to the hospital.  Is that actually possible?  It feels more like a year since we wheeled him into the E.R. on May 23rd, and the ups and downs and unknowns of his condition began to unfold.

Early in this journey I drove home alone after a long day with Jim in the hospital, and my eyes paused at Jim’s sunglasses on the seat of my car where he had left them a few days before. 

“What am I going to do with those?” I wondered.  I did not see a way forward, believed his life was coming to a close, and I assumed he would never wear them again.  My house felt cold and cavernous that evening, and I wept throughout the evening, wondering how I would live in this big house all alone. 

That was the night I began to write “If you don’t come home, and even if you do.”  To be honest, the first draft simply said, “If you don’t come home.” I had no expectation that he would recover. And now, both broken and strong, Jim will roll through our door in his wheelchair, and we will begin reinventing our life together.

I am overwhelmed with gratefulness.

And I am also slightly terrified.

Hard realities.

“Yay!!!” and “Oh, no!!!” are both valid emotions as we move forward… differently.

It’s a new life for us both.  A treasure.  And also an obstacle course with no guide book.  So, “Yay!!!” and “Oh, no!!!” are both valid emotions as we move forward… differently.  Our roles and rhythms at home will be new and different and unfamiliar, and we will be a little like newlyweds figuring this out this dance for the first time. 

We are still quite far from being ready for a prosthetic limb, as we are still waiting for his right leg (Jim calls it Mr. Stumpy) to wake up!  You may recall that the infection embedded itself in several areas, one being the psoas muscle, the one that (along with the piriformis and gluteous maximus) connects your spine to your legs.  When you take a step, it is your psoas that moves your leg forward, and you cannot walk without it. 

So far Jim’s psoas has not woken up.  Jim can roll his right leg from side to side, push it down into the mattress, even slide it to the side, but he is unable to lift it, the forward motions essential to walking.  However, this week he began to feel pain in his psoas.  While pain is, of course, a pain, it also may be a sign that this muscle is waking back up.  Time will tell.  Walking, if it is possible, will be a ways away, and it may be a year before we know the extent of Jim’s recovery.

In the meantime, Jim will be able to move with assistance between a bed and a chair, and I am being schooled in how to safely assist him with his daily needs.  We practice repositioning him safely in bed, assisting in transfers from bed to wheelchair, and from wheelchair to my car, which is gratefully the right height for that tricky transfer.

We’re also learning that permanent damage has been done to some vertebrae, so it is uncertain how much relief from pain Jim will gain.  Pain management at home could be an ongoing challenge.

Home healthcare will provide physical/occupational therapy three times a week initially.  We will also be following up with several different specialists to address his vision, heart, infection, blood issues, and pain.  So starting Tuesday, all the support his nurses and aides have been giving him will now be my job!  In addition, I’ll be his transport, his scribe, his concierge, his nutritionist, and room service. 

We are madly prepping our home to receive Jim, and ordering a long list of medical supplies.  Because God is God and plans everything beautifully, my family, who planned their visit weeks ago, is here to help, so we are beautifully supported for those first few days. 

With one hand we prep the home for the new needs Jim will have.  And with the other we are getting it ready for sale!  Our needs are changing quickly, so there is much to be done before we put it on the market.  Would you pray with us for the perfect timing of the sale of this home, and the miracle of finding the right new home in that same, beautiful timing?  All of these things—the coordination of the volume of work, the timing of sale and purchase, Jim’s many needs and other changes—are not something we can control, but something we feel responsible for.  Looking back, we see God’s hand of provision and timing in a hundred ways.  Looking forward, we (and by “we” I mean me) tend to freak out!  It’s like standing with a shovel in one hand, bracing for a fast-moving avalanche.

I, the bendy Lace, will support the stalwart Oak, rather than the other way around. 

 So come Tuesday, our lives are will look vastly different!  I, the bendy Lace, will support the stalwart Oak, rather than the other way around.  And for this, we have Jesus.

You are the oak

I am the lace

You bring the strength

I bring the grace.

You stand unbending

And powerfully made,

We nest in your branches

And rest in your shade.

I add the loveliness,

Dance at your feet,

Move with the wind

And rebound with ease.

Your strength is your power,

But now for your sake

Give just a little:

What won’t bend will break.

And I will keep turning

My face to the sun

And try to stand taller,

Supple but strong.

So you find your softness,

I’ll find my strength,

We’ll learn a new dance

And reach for God’s grace.

Swaying and bending

Or stalwart and strong,

We’re better together

Than each one alone.

 We're learning to take this…

One step at a time.