Step Five: Add some wheels.

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.

Day 35.

Friends.

Jim answers his cell phone from his hospital bed.

“Jimmy!” It’s J.R. on the phone.  “How is your pain today?”

“Dude,” Jim says.  “You won’t believe it!  The pain was just awful after P.T. today and I couldn’t get comfortable.  I was in misery.  And then this nurse tilted my bed so that my head was low and my feet were higher than my head.  And the pain went away!  It was unbelievable!”

“You’re right; I don’t believe it.  That’s impossible,” J.R. says.

“No—seriously!” Jim says. “She tipped me down and elevated my feet, and it relieved the pain in my back!”

“You lie.  That can’t happen,” J.R. insists.

“I’m telling you, it took my pain away,” Jim argues.

“Jimmy, I’ll prove to you that’s impossible,” J.R. says.

“How are you going to do that?” Jim says.

“Well, you don’t have ‘feet’. You have ‘foot’!” 

Ba-dum, tshshsh!

True story!  Our first “lame” joke, and we laughed so hard!   it deserves to be retold. 

Wheels!

I joined Jim at Physical Therapy yesterday, and it was great to see how hard he worked.  His trainer, Trent, is awesome, and Jim pushed hard to make progress, occasionally muttering to himself, “Embrace the suck!”

That was also the day I saw Jim in a wheelchair for the first time!  It was heartening to see him meeting the challenge of wheeling himself around, and later I watched him practice moving from wheelchair to bed with the help of a transfer board. 

Every good effort is met with extreme pain as his back muscles seize up after therapy.  But today, with the help of an adjustment to his pain medication, Jim made more really good progress.  Tomorrow he reaches his first goal: to take the wheelchair outside and pet his doggies!

Today also held a great meeting with Jim’s care team, and with some questions answered, I feel more hopeful that we may be ready for Jim to come home in a few weeks. 

Standing by.

I’m trying to figure out how to characterize the life of the one in the wings in this story.  It’s an honored, front-row seat, but a powerless one.  I drive nothing, react to everything.

I’ve never surfed in my life, but I imagine learning to surf to be something like the way this feels.  You wade out in deep waters, trying to figure out how to get on top of those terrifying waves, and somehow mount that board and ride, even while you don’t yet know how to balance.  Sometimes you’re paddling for all you are worth.  For a few brief moments you’re on top of the wave, and then you are sent flying, tumbling in giant waves way too big for you, wondering when you get to breathe again. 

I feel like I’m working five jobs at once, all of them poorly. 

Some of the jobs are familiar to me, but most are new—like the world of caregiving, like the jobs Jim usually does, like re-scripting our future plans, like being several places at once, or making decisions on my own.  The requirements of Jim’s recovery will mean retiring earlier than expected, so researching Social Security and Medicare, selling our home, finding a smaller place in which to nest and heal and gather friends is a new imperative.  I’m also clearing time on my calendar to learn the new caregiving tasks needed when you have low mobility.

There are a million unanswered questions that tend to knock on my door in the wee hours of the morning.  It’s all so much bigger than me.

I want to say “Thank you!” to all those who have offered help or advice or coffee or a verse or a hug or a prayer to sustain me along the way.

I also want to say “I’m such an idiot!” to all those who I didn’t know how to support in this way when you were going through your own, scary life challenges!  I know now.

While some of our future story is coming into focus, most of the plot is yet to be revealed.  Sometimes you just have to move forward anyway, before you can see where to path leads. 

And for this we have Jesus.   

Early on in this journey he led me to this beautiful promise of the way he works:

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying,

“This is the way, walk in it,”

when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.

Isaiah 30:21

I’m working on taking it…

One step at a time.