To bare one another's burden's

I thought I would write a word or two about the cause at hand. When I first heard of the accident that took place and the devestating results of that on Lincoln's life and the life of his family I was shocked and deeply moved. Everything started running through my mind as I tried to grasp the enormity of the situation and what my friends were going through. Immediate thoughts were to pray for a miracle, to fast for these miracles to pour down from Heaven upon Lincolne and his family.
After the shock came thoughts of wanting to help in anyway but feeling at a loss as to what help looked like in a situation such as this, Was it visits, was it meals, was it help in the home for Sharon? Then that still small voice came whispering, " You can walk." again it came" Julia you can march and get all those who have a desire in their hearts to help in some small way to do the same."
I am so grateful to all who have expressed this desire to help. I pray that this desire moves into action and that we see hundreds join our sponsored walk and many more making donations to Lincolne's rehab. I can't imagine what life is like for the Innis family. What I do know is that faith is required and that faith is a doing word. It is not a feeling of wishing hard that somehow things may change or someone will help. It is an absolute brightness of hope along with an unwaivering determination to roll our sleeves up and get on with the task ahead. The task ahead is to raise money for the vital pieces of equipment that Lincolne will need in order to live daily with his family. This is the task at hand. So I ask, please, read the update that follows then dig deeply and donate to Lincolne's individual my cause account or send a message to us for his bank account and bsb details. We apprecate all your help and support. It is such a small thing we can do but if each of us does our part, small things become great things...

Kaitlyn was in our room first thing this morning, waking us up and negotiating with the tooth fairy. Apparently if you pull your own tooth out you get $4, two gold $2 coins. "I don't think so Kait" says the sleepy tooth fairy half awake. "Yes mum, Nelson said if you pull it out yourself you get $4." Now we all know Nelson is the oracle of righteousness, morality and equity in our family. So once Kaitlyn made the statement she knew she had the authority to start rummaging through the tooth fairy's purse. Besides, the tooth fairy was far too tired to continue the negotiations with a 9 year old over $2. Many things about family life are just the same. It was a happy morning waking up at home.

I have not yet fully assessed or comprehended the financial impact of Lincolne's disability. We've had some input up to now, but it has not yet become that important, and there have not yet been any serious financial obligations. We have the best private cover, that covers a significant portion of hospital expenses, rehabilitation and medical staff, but not equipment, renovations to home and motor vehicles etc... It seems the government will provide some financial support for these things, enough to cover very basic contingencies, the rest we make up ourselves. Its a public liability trade off. Legislation has changed so patients no longer sue government or councils for millions, and in return the government is required to pay for part of the costs for spinal patients. But there's a gap, a pretty big gap if he's to have a good life. In the first week much of the focus at rehab is on identifying the perfect power chair for him. It could cost up to $30,000 depending on his needs and preferences, the government will contribute up to $15,000. So we are so thankful to our friends who are doing some fundraising and to those who have contributed already. I suspect this is where the first allocation of funds will go.

Yesterday was Lincolne's worst day. He expressed the night before that he preferred hospital to rehab. Mostly the difference is cultural. The spinal unit at Royal North Shore Hospital had a culture of caring and recovery. You are there to recover from your injuries. Everyone is nice and kind, most things are optional and everyone lets you rest - except the other patients who do anything from snoring like a jackhammer to gargling their own blood through the night.

Rehab is very different. The staff experience at the Royal Rehabilitation Centre is varied. They are mostly pleasant but the resources are stretched and they engage lesser experienced temporary staff on the weekend. Also, you are there for rehabilitation - to work toward assimilating back into the community. The morning regiment is much the same as hospital, except we are no longer permitted to be part of it. First he's fed breakfast by the nursing staff, then hoisted onto a commode that he's showered on and assists with other personal care. Then he's again hoisted onto his borrowed power chair that he's attached to for most of the day. So yesterday was bad, the temp nurses left him on the commode too long allowing him to get cold. Also, when hoisting him into his chair, used a sling that was too big and were rough with the hoist. They did not support his nick properly as they moved him. By the time I got to there at 2pm he was still rugged up like it was the middle of winter and was in a lot of pain, it looked to me life he was in shock. For most of the day he sat reclined in his chair with his eyes shut, not wanting to engage anyone or deal with what had happened, it was the most upset 'd seen him. Sharon, who'd been there since visiting opened at 11am was visibly distressed, also the most upset I've seen her since our new adventure began.

One of the biggest risks to spinal patients is getting "sick". If they get a cold, flu, virus infection etc... is is so much worse. Their immune system is under stress, their reduced air capacity prevents them from coughing and their inability to identify pain can bring on autonomic dysreflexia. So we go to a lot of effort to make sure visitors are not sick, nor are their family members. We go to a lot of effort to continually sterilise his environment. The most common problem for spinal patients is bladder infections. Today, down in the gym with a temp nurse, I was looking for a jug to empty his urine bag into. The centre has a special machine to keep the jugs sterile and reduce the risk of infection. When the bag is emptied you wear gloves, also to reduce the risk of infection. So I was looking for a jug and could not find one, the only one I saw was a used one on the floor of the patients toilet. So I asked the nurse where I might find a jug. She said she'd get one and came back promptly with a glove on one hand and a jug. I put gloves on and offered to empty the bag for Lincolne as she had been busy with another patient. I returned to the toilet to empty the jug and noticed the dirty jug from the floor missing and I was fuming. I won't share the rest of the story in detail, but the nurse will not use a dirty jug to empty Lincs's bag again, and I apologised to half a dozen people for losing my temper and using fowl language. I will lodge a formal complaint in writing tomorrow, and also, at the suggestion of my brother, make time to see an anger management counsellor. I'm feeling writhing mad again right now just thinking about it.

Lincolne had a good day today. When I arrived in the morning he was sunning himself on the rear balcony. The morning routine complete without incident. Apart from my little outburst he got lots of other entertainment and company from the many visitors who were with us today. Especially his sweetheart Kody, who's now relocated from Queensland to be near him. He's was happy today...so we're all happy.

http://www.mycause.com.au/mycause/raise_money/fundraise.php?id=50474
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Life

 

These insights are truly beautiful, thank you Grant for sharing your thoughts ...

 

Most evenings I get home, just before 11:00, to a quiet house where everyone is sleeping. I carefully unlock the front door, trying not to wake anyone. I make my way down the hallway, trying not to make the floors squeak. I ready myself for bed quietly, then read, write and sleep. The home is a beautifully restored and decorated period home with lead light windows, pressed tin ceilings, picture rails, fancy cornices, fireplaces and timber floors, but it is not my home. It's occupied by a wonderful family, more beautiful than the home, who are related to someone I loved when I was young and have not seen for almost 25 years. I've been living here for three weeks, with a key to the front door and unlimited access to delicious food and great company. A safe place to go, where I can unload the burdens of the day. I feel very comfortable here, like staying with family, only they treat me like an honoured guest. It's five minutes from the hospital, allowing us to remain close to our son and provide necessary care and support at this difficult time. It is difficult to convey how much gratitude I feel toward them for their friendship, generosity, love and allowing us, strangers, into their home. The only condition being to leave the hallway light on at night for the kids.

I am reminded of a saying, shared with me many years ago by a dear friend,

"Beyond the ugliness in this world is the incredible beauty of friendship and love, that is where I live"

With me being at home rarely over the past four weeks the family is struggling. The little girls are feeling insecure and unsettled, the teenagers feel guilty about asking for my time, and have their own set of teenage challenges to deal with. Madi and I were talking last Saturday and I thought she told me one of her friends had herpes. I responded by trying to be empathetic, and started telling her that it must be hard for her friend, she must be worried about her, and that is one of the consequences of not being careful and living a promiscuous life. "What are you talking about dad?" Madi asked. "Your Friend with herpes" I said. "Dad, I said she got HER P's". When someone gets a provisional drivers licence here in Australia they commonly refer to it as getting your "P's". I'm obviously still on my P's for listening.

It's been three weeks of groundhog day up in the spinal ward. Not much changes about the routine. The repetition is getting to me and making me restless. The last time I remember feeling like this was five years ago, six months before the global financial crisis. I went seeking adventure and ended up getting lost and putting my life in danger in the great Wollemi Wilderness. So it was welcome news to learn that there is a spot at the Royal Rehabilitation Centre for us, a month or more ahead of our expectations. One of the boys in the ward, who was ahead of Lincolne on the list had become ill, thereby relinquishing his spot at rehab to Lincolne. I feel for the guy, he's been here since early December, with six weeks in ICU and a host of complications that have continued to extend his time at the hospital. So Lincolne got the spot, but the spot became available when a couple of the patients at rehab were sent home because of substance abuse, breaking grounds, theft and vandalism. When we drove into the rehab centre we passed the only other patient Lincolne's age, smoking pot out the back with a couple of his mates. "Are we at the right rehab centre?" I thought.

The building is old, due for demolition later this year, but has all character of something stuck in the 60's. There is a large balcony that extends across the front of the building with lovely views across the Parramatta River and Homebush Bay where the 2000 Olympic Games were held. In many ways it feels more like an aged care facility, with two of Lincolne's room mates being in their 70's. "Do you mind if we turn off the lights?" Sharon asks at 9pm, "you can turn off that bloody fan as well!" Henry snaps, "it's dryin' me eyes out!" At the hospital we were told that 23 degrees celcius is the perfect temperature for spinal patients, who cannot regulate their own body temperature. So we were surprised to find out that the rehab centre has no air conditioning. Still, Sharon considers the early move to rehab an answer to prayer.

Lincolne has been quite fragile this past week. With a waiting room full of visitors he greets generously, chatting for hours and is seemingly his same charming self. But I see it in his eyes, often on the verge of tears but never quite giving in, a fragility that is foreign to him. For the first time this week he told me he wished he could go back in time "we all do mate" I said. "When I was running in the water a thought came to me that I should run out further..." if only he had. After prayers on Tuesday evening I asked him what worries him the most. He looked at me with those beautiful big fragile eyes, almost swelling to tears, and lifted his arms beneath the sheets at the elbows, motioning his eyes toward them and the rest of his body. I wanted to promise him he'd walk again, there's nothing I want more, but I couldn't. "I promise you will have a good life" I said, we can give him a good life, that's the best promise I could make.