Chapter 3, Part 5 Jigsaw Puzzle (revised)

 Note: When pasting this part into the new manuscript, I noticed a big blank space toward the end. The missing section was an extremely important development in the day's events. So I undertook to edit in order to recount it here. 

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People in the waiting room started to stir. The sleepy ones sat up. Several people got up and looked out the door.

“It’s almost one. They should be opening the doors pretty soon for visiting hours.” Someone explained. “But they don’t always open on time. It just depends on what’s happening in there.”

So, we waited – and answered the phone.

Many people wanted to know what was happening. Of course, we still could not tell them much at this time, only to check back later and to pray. Throughout the ordeal, phone calls helped us to pass the copious time of waiting. They assured us that lots of people were holding us up in prayer – and we counted on their prayers, both for Arif and for our own endurance. Sharing our information and Arif's progress was also a good way to process the vast amount of information we had heaped upon us as the days and weeks went by. Joe would have to put the information into concise words, and I would give him feedback if I thought I heard something different. Then we could check with the nurses to clarify.

Finally, the doors to the ICU opened and people poured into the unit. At the same time, a woman came into the waiting room, looking for us.

“Hello. I am Pam, one of the nurses here. The trauma team just met to decide how to proceed. He is in serious condition, as you know, with no brain activity. The team discussed whether to have his leg fixed or to harvest his organs. He has ‘organ donation’ designated on his driver’s license. I stood up for him, saying ‘He is young and healthy. Let’s give him a chance.’ … You will need to sign papers giving permission for the surgery.”

We still give thanks for Pam’s intervention. We were so glad not to have to make such an agonizing decision, especially at that point in the ordeal. He obviously was not actually dead, but his brain was not able to respond due to the high pressure from the swelling caused by the trauma it endured, hitting the steering wheel and windows in the car. He must have been thrown around with the impact on the semi and then the spinning of the vehicle. The only life support he needed at the time was the respirator.

We have since that time learned a lot more about organ donation practices. They cannot transplant an organ taken after a person dies, because the organ itself no longer functions. It makes a person think about the implications of organ donation since Serious ethical issues surround the process of organ donation to this day.

It was time to figure out how the system worked. Over the next few weeks, we fell into somewhat of a routine of visiting hours, doctor consultations, crises, and most of all waiting.

At ten o’clock Thursday night (was that really just one day?) Arif was wheeled into surgery. A master orthopedic surgeon was assigned to piece together what remained of Arif’s left leg. After surgery, he arrived in the waiting room, bearing snapshots. It was a masterful piece of work.  The doctor proudly showed us the X rays both before and after. He now sported a steel bar in his left calf and two screws just above his knee.

We still did not comprehend the full meaning of ‘no brain activity.’

I'm Baaack - Sort of

I know it has been a long time since I posted here. As you can probably imagine, the recounting of these events took a grave mental and emotional toll. So I set it aside, then kept procrastinating, except for occasional posts requested by significant people and the big news about his H-bot treatment. 

When a friend recently asked about one of those posts (the one about Snowball) I could not find the blog. Thinking Google had shut it down, I used the Wayback Machine to recover the contents.

Meanwhile, the original manuscript somehow did not survive the transferring of data to several new computers I needed over the past 15 years. I also switched from Word Perfect© to Word©, as much at I prefer the former. Corel priced it out of range for my budget. So that made it all the more urgent that I find these passages. 

I have spent the past few days pasting together a new version of the manuscript. Perhaps I can put more of the story together for you. 

The process of copying and pasting the entries into a new document (and doing some minor editing) I often wiped the tears that decided to slide down my cheeks. It reminded me of why I took such a long break from the task. 

Also, while editing the last entry about the first day of his hospital stay, I realized I left out a very significant part of that story. So I will post the revised version in another post, separate from this one.

I am not promising any consistent updates (there are certainly many) but in response to some requests I have some pressing topics to cover. They may not be in any chronological order as I post, but rest assured, they will be placed appropriately in the manuscript.

 

What Did He Say?

 [This is a rough draft. The Muse bit hard tonight and I had to put this to pixels]

June 18, exactly two months after his accident, started out looking like a normal day in skilled nursing for Arif.
In the middle of the night, vital statistics gathered, two attendants turned him over in his bed. This scenario repeated every few hours, of course. Several times during the day, the respiratory therapist came to service his trache. A physical therapist and an occupational therapist executed their routines. The speech therapist came to give him a swallow test. She declared that he was not yet ready for food by mouth. So the nurse came to pour his meals into the G tube. She liked to speculate about what he might like to eat. Mom applied oils and liquid nutrients to his arms and legs, and sneaked a few drops of the nutrients into his mouth. It seemed to cause no ill effect.
Yet, a certain air of excitement hovered.
Today, Arif’s brother, Steve, celebrated his fourteenth birthday. Steve was about to take on responsibilities akin to those of young men in pioneer days. Life promised nothing but change, with no assurance of what shape those changes might take. His fourteenth year held much that required of Steve: courage, fortitude, and self reliance. Certainly, the whole family faced these same challenges, but today, we focused on Steve.
Arif and I prayed for Steve in a special way on that day. I spoke to him about how special the birthday celebration needed to be. Yet, I knew that limits must prevail. The situation required the celebration to be toned down from what we desired. A family dinner out, and a trip to the store to get a few presents appeared as the only possibilities.
After Joe finished his work day, he stopped at home to pick up the rest of the family on his way to Joplin. Honnah left work early to join in the celebration.
Steve chose a Chinese buffet for the festivities.
Dinner conversation, of course, began with the latest updates on Arif. Soon, we heard from other quarters. Honnah spoke about work and her band. Steve regaled us with tales of the animals at home. Joe talked about the people at work and their interactions. We also reminisced about Steve’s incomparable birth.

*******
After Joe’s father received a cancer diagnosis, we moved to Mobile, Alabama – a two hour drive from where Dad lived.
We arrived the beginning of March, 1988, three months before Steve’s birth. The company put us up in an apartment, while we looked for a house.
Soon after we arrived in Mobile, it snowed for the first time in decades.
Our apartment overlooked the playground. When Joe arrived home from work each day, the two kids petitioned for some time to use it.
Once on the playground, Joe found himself surrounded by the other kids playing there. He pushed swings, sang songs, and told stories to entertain the crowd. Meanwhile, I fixed dinner uninterrupted.
During the next month, we settled on a house to purchase, after looking at many. The kids fell in love with one house because the yard was covered with early spring foliage, especially featuring dewberries.
“Let’s get the Dewberry house!” we heard for days. Indeed, it became everyone’s first choice, for a variety of reasons.
At the same time, we hunted down the resources we needed to support our lifestyle. Since we chose to birth our babies at home on our waterbed, we needed a midwife. Because of the shortness of time until the anticipated birth, we settled on the first one we found: Renata.
We met with Renata every three weeks for a couple of months.
Just three weeks before the due date, Renata excitedly announced that she signed up for midwife training in Texas. She planned to be gone for two months for this training. We prepared ourselves for the possibility that she might not be available when the time came. It turned out, she returned to Mobile just two weeks later.
We met with her again when she returned and discussed plans for the upcoming Day. Honnah was born in two and a half hours, so we suspected that time would be short. Renata changed her phone number upon her return, so we made sure to make note of it.
Through the following week, contractions came and went.
Saturday morning, the day before Father’s Day, arrived. My day started with a beautiful dream:
As I lay in my bed, I sensed a warm, calm presence. I opened my dream-eyes to see a beautiful young woman, surrounded by light. She wore a pale blue tunic with a rose colored belt, above her obviously pregnant belly. She said nothing, but smiled at me and nodded. I felt we received a visit from the Blessed Virgin Mary, leaving me with a sense of peace. This apparently was a very special child, with divine patronage.
After arising and fixing breakfast for the littles, I called Renata:
“I have a feeling something may happen today.” I told her. “Not right away, but soon. We planned to run errands. I will call you when we get home to give an update.”
“Make sure that you take it easy and sit down whenever you feel like it. Don’t push yourself.” Renata replied. “Call me as soon as something happens.”
Off we went to get groceries. We stopped for lunch at our favorite buffet.
Arriving home in the late afternoon, I lay down for a nap while the rest sat down to watch Star Trek.
When I took a bathroom break, I realized that the amniotic sac hung quite low. So I called to Joe to get Renata on the phone. He also called a friend we met recently so she could come and help with the youngsters.
Lo, and behold, Renata’s youngsters told us she went out house hunting. They did not know where she might be or how to get in touch with her.
It looked like we were indeed on our own.
As I labored on the bed, the two other children snuggled up. Arif stroked my hair, while Honnah held my hand and lay her head on my shoulder. Joe set up to take pictures.
After a bit, our friend came by. She took the kiddos into the living room to read some stories and play games.
At that point, Renata finally arrived. Joe handed her the camera and came to my side for support. Before long, we welcomed our new baby *boy*.
What a surprise! For some reason, we picked the name Michaela for the new family member without considering a boy’s name. Now, it was time to regroup and pick an appropriate name.
It was not hard. We both admired our youngest brothers, so the boy took their names: Steven for my brother and Scot (with one ‘t’) for Joe’s.
Once everything was cleaned up, we sent for the two older siblings. They scrambled up on the bed, expressing their delight. Each took a turn holding their new brother and kissing him over and over.
Soon, they tucked him in next to Papa as he read bedtime stories. As the years went by, each child wanted his or her own story. We teased Joe about how tall he got - he was a three story Papa.
The boy found himself cherished by all. He had charisma, even from his earliest years. Strangers stopped us wherever we went, declaring what a darling child they saw. We kept his hair short to be clear about his status as a boy. He is the only one of my boys who did not go through a 'long hair' stage as a teen.

*******

After dinner, we proceeded to Wal*Mart and the health food store. Steve’s presents were practical ones, and a few healthy treats to take home.
While at the health food store, I insisted that we acquire some tofu. Now that Arif’s monitors were out and the wounds resulting from them had healed enough, It was time to treat him to a tofu plaster. I often joked that I was going to make a plaster big enough to cover his whole head.
We settled on a pound of tofu and a small bag of flour.
Once the family left, I mixed the tofu and flour in a cup and stuffed it into a sock. During the preparations, I chattered to Arif about the dinner.
I secured the tofu plaster with a hat. It remained in place for half an hour. Then, I asked Arif:
“Do you want me to take this off, now?”
“No!” came the response clearly, even through the trache.
Startled, I then asked a couple more questions, getting a garbled response.
Arif started to talk this day!

Reports on Near Death Experiences

The next section of Arif's book that I plan to work is about his near death experiences. So I found these videos:

Then there are these:

Near death experiences were even known in the ancient world. Plato tells of one who tells of his experiences in the Legend of Er.

A Snowball Surprise

Arif always loved amimals - and many animals that he met loved him in return. We had bird feeders in the back yard, and he made sure they were well stocked. Spiders were escorted outside rather than squished. We even bought a pair of geckos to keep the insect population under control without people harming the six and eight legged critters.
Like most families in a city, if not somewhat suburban, setting, we had a dog, named Raffi, and a black cat, named Shadow. Raffi belonged to Steve, a younger brother, and Shadow was under the care of his sister, Honnah. They both were gentle and patient creatures, as was necessary in a family with several small children.
We contracted for a subscription to a series of cards describing all sorts of animals. Arif watched the mailbox each month for years anticipating their arrival. We still have those cards tucked away in a closet.
When out shopping, it was not unusual to visit a pet store (or two) and ask numerous questions about the care of animals we viewed. The store attendants seemed to love answering his questions, only to be disappointed that we did not purchase anything.
One day - Arif was eight - when visiting a pet store, the hamsters caught Arif’s eye. One particular white Siberian Dwarf hamster, in particular, captured his heart. We heard his pleas for days afterward. Finally, Pop gave in and they returned to the store to acquire said hamster, and the necessary equipment and the healthiest food for the animal’s care.
Arif named the little fellow Snowball.

Upon arrival at home, Arif busied himself, hoping his newfound furry friend would be comfortable in Arif’s room. He set up a cage with water, plenty of cedar chips, and lots of tunnels for Snowball to run through. Each week, as he cleaned the cage, Arif re-arranged the tunnels so Snowball would not get bored. Snowball got treats like fresh greens and sunflower seeds from time to time. Arif was fascinated by the way Snowball stuffed his cheeks with the food before he ate it.
Not long after Snowball moved into Arif’s room, some special friends came to visit. The eldest daughter was Arif’s best friend, in the innocense of eight year olds. However, Arif was not yet dressed when the family arrived, but was so excited that he forgot that detail and ran out to greet his friend all excited to show her his new pet. Unfortunately, his intentions were misunderstood and their friendship was never quite the same after that.
Time passed as Arif and Snowball settled into a routine. Raffi, however, also found a fascination with the tennis ball that moved on its own. Raffi received numerous scoldings for paying a little too much attention to Snowball.
One day, as we returned from an evening church service, Arif found Snowball’s cage on the floor, and no sign of the hamster. We feared the worst. Raffi was found with his nose under the sofa in the front room. Steven was instructed to put Raffi out back. Pop picked up the sofa and Arif retrieved the ball of fur which was huddled underneath.
It was obvious that Raffi had quite a time with his self-propelled tennis ball. Snowball’s fur looked like he had joined a Metal band - matted in some places, spiked in others, and covered with dog slobber, but there was no sign of bleeding - at least on the outside. He was swollen to half again his size, so we realized he must have had many internal injuries. It seemed to us that Raffi had no intent to actually harm his furry playmate, but must have tossed him around a good bit.

Arif was devastated. He burst into tears and begged me to do something to save Snowball. I replied that I did not have what it took to save his buddy, but that we could pray to St. Francis for guidance, if not for a miracle. St. Francis was one of Arif’s heroes and was noted for his care for and rapport with animals.
We both said a quick prayer to ask for St. Francis’ intercession. Arif retired to his room to continue to pray, while I took Snowball into the bathroom to at least get him cleaned up.
As I started running the water and waited for it to warm up, I was struck with an inspiration. A short while earlier, I read a book by a noted herbalist. He spoke very highly of cayenne pepper, especially in tincture form, as a circulatory system tonic. He claimed that cayenne tincture could stop internal bleeding. I recently ordered some cayenne tincture from his store.
It was worth a try, I figured. There was little else I could do. So I sent one of the other children to fetch the bottle from my purse.
I finished cleaning the poor little thing as gently as I could. Then I placed one drop of cayenne tincture in his mouth, hoping for the best and that it would not be a terrible experience for him.
As I gingerly dried Snowball off, I again prayed:
“The rest is up to you, St. Francis. You know how much my son loves his hamster.”
Arif kissed Snowball, and put him carefully back in his cage. I reminded him that the injuries were extensive and that Snowball might not last the night.
Early next morning, I awoke to a shout.
“Mom! Come quick!”
I dashed into Arif’s room, fearing the worst, then realizing that Arif was more excited than upset.
Snowball was alive! He looked like he had no adventures the night before.
Arif and Snowball enjoyed a long (for a hamster) friendship, until one day, as Arif was cleaning the cage, Snowball ran off. We looked everywhere, left out treats in various places, but no sign of Snowball could be found.
When we moved from that house a couple years later, we did find a familiar shaped skeleton behind the washing machine.
Fast forward ten years. Arif miraculously survived a car accident (you can read parts of that story here).
After spending months in hospitals, we finally brought him home - a very different fellow than the one who left that fine April morning. He was wheelchair bound, paralyzed on his left side, and barely able to talk. His attention span and memory were roughly equivalent to that of a goldfish. He often told us he had taken a vow of silence, so it was quite difficult to get any communication from him.
Honnah drove us 45 minutes each way three times a week to take him to physical, occupational, and speech therapy appointments first thing in the morning. He did dress himself, but very slowly and I needed to be present the whole time, or he would forget what he was doing. In order to keep myself calm, I talked with him and prayed with him during the drawn out process. Most of the time, it was a monologue as I got minimal verbal response from him. So, I talked about just about anything that popped into my head.
At one point, I read some accounts of near death experiences, so I became curious. Since Arif was diagnosed as having “no brain activity” for some time, I decided to ask him about the possibility. I really had no expectations of his response.
“Arif, I was wondering if you had some sort of experiences when you were in the hospital - something apart from the hospital events themselves.”
I wanted to leave it as open ended as possible, so he would not be ‘led’ in any particular direction.
To my utter surprise, Arif brightened up and really began chattering:
“Yes! I died and I was judged...” (the rest of that dialog is for another chapter)
This became a topic for discussion on a number of our early morning, sessions. I asked him to describe the events he experienced. The descriptions were fluid and very similar from one telling to the next. With his memory issues, I thought he might forget from one morning to another what he said previously.
After feeling confident that he had really “been there” I began to ask less open ended questions. I asked if he met certain friends and family members who had passed away earlier. His responses made a good bit of sense according to what we knew about those people. Most of those will also be in another chapter.
I also asked about his encounters with various saints. Some of these stories were more vague than those mentioned above.
Until I asked him about his favorite saint - Saint Francis.

Arif started to laugh - a sound we rarely hear, even today.
“Yes ... I did meet with Saint Francis. ... I was so excited. ... And do you know what? ... Saint Francis reached out to me like this (extending both hands, cupped together with a huge grin). ... And do you know what he handed me? ...... A Snowball!”
I chuckled, thinking that was a rather strange item for a saint to deliver.
“Oh well.” I thought “A rather wild story, and one that doesn’t really make sense.”
It was some time later that I remembered a little white hamster.

Walking improvement

Arif does so much better about getting his heel down to the floor.

Sit, Stand, Stay Square

Lucky Friday the Thirteenth

We have seen so much improvement in such a short time. After all these years of struggling for any progress only to have it disappear almost as fast as we made any gains, we are now seeing not only that he is improving, but that we can build on previous gains.

HBOT journal 1

Arif is now receiving Hyperbaric Oxygen Treatments. Here he is in his capsule. Stay tuned for updates.

Arif's first day of HBOT

After his first session with hyperbaric oxygen, Arif spoke more clearly and distinctly than he has in a long time. For the first time since I was told that nothibng I do makes any difference, I have a little hope.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10152070877031145

What We Found That Worked for Our Brain Injured Son

In April of 2002, our eldest son fell asleep at the wheel on his way to an English Composition class. He stayed up late that night to finish the paper he planned to hand in for the class. In just a few weeks, he would graduate from the community college at the age of 18.

His car crossed the center line of the well traveled country road. Then it met the back wheel of a tractor trailer carrying several tons of steel pipe and traveling in the opposite direction. The truck’s axle bent and the resulting flat tire deflated, sounding like an explosion.

Thank God, no one else became involved in the accident and the skilled driver managed to keep his pipes onboard.

The car spun around and landed on the shoulder of the road.

After 45 minutes, the Jaws of Life freed him from his vehicle. A helicopter arrived just in time to take him to a nearby hospital - one of the best in the area.

When we arrived there, they told us he showed no brain activity. During the next 4 days, he began to show signs of reacting, only to experience spikes in  his inter-cranial pressure. The spikes returned him to a “no brain activity” state.

During that time, we relied on little more than prayer, because we signed paperwork forbidding us from bringing any supplements or anything from outside in to him. Our children grew up knowing only natural remedies for their few ailments.

However, my husband and I needed essential oils, along with our prayers, to keep us calm and focused. Recently, studies show that if a certain area of the brain is kept from firing during those critical first hours and/or days, it decreases the incidence of PTSD. We used a bunch of Peace and Calming (P&C). Perhaps his smelling the P&C on us helped him during the ensuing years.

After four days, he began to show more consistent signs of reacting. The medical team remained very guarded, if not somewhat pessimistic, about his prognosis. The neurologist told us she never saw anything like this. Her description of his becoming more reactive after experiencing no brain activity: “Usually, it only happens once....”

A nurse friend of ours noted to the nurse in charge of his care that his home smelled unlike a hospital. If we wanted him to come out of his coma, she advised us to bring in things that smelled like home. The nurse agreed. So someone brought a bunch of essential oils to the hospital.  We also shared our oils with other families in the waiting room.

Our first thought, once we could use the oils was: Valor! We knew that he was literally fighting for his life and needed all the courage he could muster. In addition, our Raindrop training taught us that essential oils increase the oxygenation of the blood.

Of course, we were not allowed to use anything around his head because of the monitoring apparatus attached there. His crushed left leg was in a cast with the oxygen monitor attached. They figured that if his blood oxygen was ok there, then the rest of his body should be just fine. Since our only access remained to his right foot for oil application, whenever we went into his room, I headed for that right foot while Hubby headed for the monitors.

The first time I put the Valor on his foot, within just a few seconds, Hubby shouted: “Whoah!”

Apparently, there were two monitors for the oxygen level. Fortunately, his blood oxygenation level was solid throughout his stay in ICU. Of course the percentage never exceeds 100, but Hubby saw the other gauge jump dramatically. The next time we went in the boy’s room, we called in the nurse, who confirmed that it indicated that the oxygen in the blood rose dramatically.

While we maintain our gratitude for the medical help that supported him when he remained in such dire straits, the interventions are not without risk. Before long, our son had major infection issues: meningitis from the monitors in his skull and pneumonia from the respirator. An infection specialist was called in and he was put on 4 very strong antibiotics: “for at least two weeks, then we will see....”

At this point we began using ImmuPower and Thieves. We alternated the two. In four days, there was no sign of the meningitis. The immune specialist thought the lab made a mistake, but repeated testing confirmed the infection was gone.

Two and a half weeks after his accident they finally spoke to us about him leaving ICU (other than under a sheet). After a month in ICU, the boy moved to skilled nursing because he was still in a coma. By this time, he had a tracheotomy and a feeding tube and the monitors were removed from his head. Now we could put the oils anywhere on his body.

His face, left arm, and left leg were covered with scars. I put lavender on the scars. One nurse, after her 4 day weekend, declared that she hardly knew him because of the improvement in his face during that time. Only the name on his chart assured her he was the same patient.

Soon after he arrived at the skilled nursing facility, the head nurse pulled me aside to tell me her nurses were suffering with headaches because of the lavender oil we used. However, one staff member advocated for us, saying that the oils really made a big difference for him. So she required us to close the door and open the window whenever using the oils. No problem, springtime provided very pleasant outdoor weather.

Oddly, however, a few days later several of the nurses seemed to find reasons to come into his room whenever I applied the lavender and/or Valor. One even came in one day, took a deep breath and declared that it smelled like he had been to church.

Gary Young always tells us: “Don’t put anything on your skin that you would not put in your mouth.”

We turned this concept around and applied nutrients to his arms, legs, and torso since he could not take anything by mouth. I diluted Mineral Essence and used a liquid B complex to do a massage.

His left leg was wracked with muscle spasms. We massaged it with basil, marjoram, cypress, and peppermint.

With the apparatus removed from his head, I finally used a tofu plaster on him (a couple Tablespoons of tofu mixed with enough flour to hold it together, placed in a cotton sock and applied to the injured area). After applying the tofu, he spoke his first words since the accident - two months to the day and on his brother’s birthday.

A month passed in skilled nursing before we transferred him to a rehab hospital.

We grilled the officials at each hospital we visited. Since we gained so much success with the oils, we insisted that we be allowed to continue to use them.

Most places dispensed a firm “NO!”

We finally found one that allowed their use, as long as we gave a list to their pharmacist.

At the rehab hospital, they removed the trache and the feeding tube. We worked with the kitchen staff to make sure that most of the food he got was nutritious. He had fresh fruit and veggies with each meal.

We continued using Valor and the leg oils. We added frankincense and Brain Power. His college buddies borrowed the Brain Power for finals week and were thrilled with the results.

We also gave him scullcap and gotu kola herb tea with each meal. A few days after we started, he declared to the internist that the herbs gave him more pain relief than the drugs. You could have knocked the poor fellow over with a feather, because he had never heard the boy say two words, but this was delivered clearly, in full sentences.

Four weeks to the day from when we started giving him the tea, he made a major cognitive leap. The speech therapist, who tried to push ritalin felt victorious that we had finally given in. We made sure she knew that was not even a possibility.

We also found out that the antispasmodic medication he took sent his blood pressure into the basement. So, between getting him off that and giving him the tea, he made steady progress.

He finally came home, four months after his accident - on no medication at all. Many people find that radical. Government organizations refused to provide help to us because he is not on medication.

Of course, still severely impaired, he remained wheelchair bound and needed constant attention. So we continued with the oils we had been using and added various other oils as the need arose, and as new ones became available.

I also facilitate Raindrop on him, learning in a dramatic way that the direction of motion is opposite from the way we usually perform it.

We use many of the nutritional products as well: Super B, Super C, Mineral Essence, the enzymes.... And we fed him a nutrient rich diet.

Six months after he came home, he suddenly left the wheelchair behind (except when we have long distances to cover), much to the surprise of his physical therapist.

As time went on, we found several other useful resources:
•    Extra Virgin Coconut Oil has been shown to improve cognitive function in Alzheimer patients.
•    Branched Chain Amino Acids help to rebuild damaged brain tissues. This has been observed in studies with rats with induced brain injuries.
•    Chia Seeds contain very concentrated nutrients and they help to keep the digestive channels healthy.
•    Sea vegetables (we prefer dulse, but also use kelp and nori) provide a wide array of minerals which also help to repair damaged tissues and enhance the immune system.

Traumatic Brain Injury is not a simple issue, so it takes a good bit of resources and a great deal of commitment to wade through and get the best results possible. Many dire prognoses were put down on our son, and he surpassed every single one of them. He has slowly, but steadily progressed over the past 11 years, even after we were told we could expect no more progress.

We still face a very long road to his full recovery. Many tell us we hold impossible objectives for him and I have been told that nothing I do makes any difference. However, we continue to hope for the highest caliber he can attain.

Chapter 3, Part 5 - Jigsaw Puzzle

People started to stir. The sleepy ones sat up. Several got up and looked out the door.

“It’s almost one. They should be opening the doors pretty soon for visiting hours.” Someone explained. “But they don’t always open on time. It just depends on what’s happening in there.”

So, we waited – and answered the phone.

Many people wanted to know what was happening. Of course, we could not tell them much at this time, only to check back later and to pray. Throughout the ordeal, phone calls helped us to pass the copious time of waiting. They assured us that lots of people were holding us up in prayer – and we counted on their prayers, both for Arif and for our own endurance. It was also a good way to process the vast amount of information we had heaped upon us as the days and weeks went by. Joe would have to put the information into concise words, and I would give him feedback if I thought I heard something different. Then we could check with someone to clarify.

Finally, the doors to the ICU opened and people poured into the unit. At the same time, a woman came into the waiting room, looking for us.



It was time to figure out how the system worked. Over the next few weeks, we fell into somewhat of a routine of visiting hours, doctor consultations, crises, and most of all waiting.

At ten o’clock Thursday night (was that really just one day?) Arif was wheeled into surgery. A master orthopedic surgeon was assigned to piece together what remained of Arif’s left leg. After surgery, he arrived in the waiting room, bearing snapshots. It was a masterful piece of work. Dr. .showed us the X rays both before and after.

Update for those who have been praying with us

With the inspiration of the Holy Spirit (I am sure because of all the prayers) we have started a new protocol with Arif. It seems to be making some difference. The changes are still subtle, but occasionally we see some solid reason for hope.

His toileting skills are fine during the day, but not at night. We put adult diapers (the ones that fit like briefs) on him at night, but they are still not strong enough to hold all that he produces. So, we also put an absorbant pad on top of his sheet. Lately, he has been able to awaken without the pad overflowing on the sheet. A number of times, even the pad has been dry. Now, he is managing to get up with dry briefs as well. We are so thrilled and do not have so much laundry to do.

I have put up charts and lists over and over, through the past seven years, to remind him of the things that he needs to do. Generally, he just ignores them, or if I keep up with the charting, it seems to mean little to him. A few weeks ago, I put up a chart to keep track of his bed wetting process. Last week when he woke up completely dry and I put a sticker on the chart, Arif got really excited. He carried on the excitement throughout the whole day. Of course, one of his major problems has been short term memory. So to have him remember his accomplishment through the day is an improvement, too.

He does seem more aware than he had been, but that is something that is hard to measure.

We thank you for your prayers.

Please Pray With Us

Arif's 26th birthday is fast approaching (it's June 7). It would be great if we could have you all come to celebrate with us. We so appreciate your support and concern. Most of you are so far away, however, it would not be practical.

Each year, we pray in a special way for his healing during the nine days leading up to his birthday (beginning on May 30).

You are welcome to join with us in this novena. Pray in whatever way you are comfortable. Your prayers will be much appreciated.

Just so that you know, we have some special prayers that we pray, to keep our focus.

When Arif was 13, he went with the youth group to Rome and Assisi. While they were there, the bishop arranged for the group to meet with Pope John Paul II on the steps of St. Peter's Basilica. As you can imagine, the young people were thrilled.

The pope greeted the group warmly, as expected. He then proceeded to shake hands with each member of the group. However, when he greeted Arif, he reached up and patted Arif on the cheek. The Vatican photographer captured the moment, and Arif managed to snag some of the photos. You can see one, if you look back through the archives in this blog.

We used to tease Arif that the late pope recognized his Polish heritage. It was only much later that we realized that, quite possibly, the holy man knew that Arif would need special attention later in his life.

With that in mind, we find ourselves asking for Pope John Paul II's intercession on Arif's behalf.

Regardless of religious affiliation, many people admire the influence the late pope had particularly on the spiritual lives of young people. His heroic battle with Parkinson's was a testament to the fortitude of the human spirit.

We believe that the late Pope is enjoying the beatific vision and is close to God for all of eternity. His soul is not dead, but very much alive and, as when he walked among us, he has a great concern for those of us who must continue to struggle through life on earth. so we feel that he will stand beside us in spirit, as we present our petitions to God.

The Church has published an official prayer for the intercession of Pope John Paul II:

O Blessed Trinity We thank You for having graced the Church with Pope John Paul II
and for allowing the tenderness of your Fatherly care, the glory of the cross of Christ, and the splendor of the Holy Spirit, to shine through him. Trusting fully in Your infinite mercy and in the maternal intercession of Mary, he has given us a living image of Jesus the Good Shepherd, and has shown us that holiness is the necessary measure of ordinary Christian life and is the way of achieving eternal communion with you.
Grant us, by his intercession, and according to Your will, the graces we implore, hoping that he will soon be numbered among your saints.
Amen.

And here is a prayer I made up for Arif soon after the late pope died:

Pope John Paul II, you told us “Be not afraid”.
So, laying aside our fear and doubts,
we ask you to open wide the door of heaven
and we ask that the rays of Divine Mercy shine from the heart of Jesus upon the earth to bring about the conversion of poor sinners. Please ask Our Lord to grace us with complete healing for Arif Marshall that he may fulfill the mission he was given in the presence of St Peter. We pray this in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Time Out

I am trying to find the log that Joe kept while Arif was in the hospital. It will have a lot of detail that I might not remember, plus you will have another point of view. I just hope it did not get lost in the move. Please pray that I find it soon.

Thank you so very much for bearing with me and for all your encouragement.

Chapter 3, Part 4: Dispatch Scramble

Pete’s wife’s call came into the 911 office. It was a busy morning with many accident calls.

The dispatcher’s first task was to figure out who to call. The driver’s license said the boy was 18. He probably went to high school. Since he was headed north, it was likely Neosho High School. So the dispatcher handed the name over to a tech, Mary Jo, to look up Neosho High’s phone number.

Arif generally goes by his middle name. Of course, his license had his legal name: Joseph A. Marshall. Mary Jo looked at the name and it rang a bell. Suddenly she knew it:

“His family goes to my church. He doesn’t go to Neosho High. He goes to Crowder College. I see him there when I go to my classes. Contact the boy’s father. His mother does not drive and would have no way to get there. Joe works at Wal Mart as a programmer.”

The dispatcher’s wife worked at Wal Mart, too. The dispatcher called her to find Joe’s extension at Wal Mart. In short order, the contact was made.

By 8:15 Joe headed north to Goodman. It would take a good forty five minutes to get there.

The dispatcher also contacted Crowder College.

By 11:00 it seemed the whole campus was in deep heartfelt prayer. It amazed us all how many on campus knew Arif, and how deeply they felt the loss.

All this time, the dispatcher was set to the task of getting proper equipment to the accident site. Goodman police were already on the scene. The Jaws of Life were called into action. Forty five minutes after they arrived, the hole was large enough to remove the contents of the car.

Finding transport was another issue. They determined early on that a helicopter was needed, but none could be found. They were all busy.

Miraculously, just as the Jaws finished their job, St. John’s helicopter landed at the site.

God was gracious to send him to St. John's. It is one of the best hospitals in the state. He got the best of care. In addition, Joe and I had the comfort of its beautiful chapel and a daily – sometimes several times a day – the chance to sit in the Presence of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

The boy was unconscious. The left side of his body was extensively damaged – it was probably crushed. There was doubt whether he would make it to the hospital. But the task was to transport him.

Soon after the helicopter took off, Joe arrived at the scene.

The left side of Arif’s car was crushed, plus the effects of the Jaws of Life. When Joe saw the car, he could not imagine how anything could have come out of it alive.

Steve wrapped a big hug around Joe and described what happened. Joe barely comprehended, but he appreciated Steve’s warmhearted zest.

The back axle of Steve’s trailer was seriously bent, requiring Steve to spend the day in Goodman waiting for the trucking company to send a tow truck. He holed up at Dari Twist, the only diner in town.

The diner, next to the gas station, was owned by the McCulleys. They were members of our home school group and also good friends. Arif bought the Oldsmobile Toronado Trofeo from them. If he had been in his S-10, the outcome would have been much different. We gave the S-10 to a woman who had no vehicle while he was in England the previous semester.

Chapter 3, Part 3: Last Box of Toothpicks

Apparently, Arif headed for school but forgot his last box of industrial strength toothpicks. You know, the ones that hold up the eyelids when they feel like they are made of lead. After he stopped for gas in Anderson, he struggled to keep his eyes open. The driver who followed him from Anderson to Goodman said that he had trouble keeping on track. It was obvious he was fighting falling asleep.

At 7:45, in Goodman entering the 60-mile-an-hour speed zone, Arif lost the battle and fell sound asleep. The truck driver, Steve, later related that he could see Arif's face as he approached heading the opposite way. There was no reaction. Steve knew that Arif was asleep at the wheel. It took a lot of prayer and all the concentration he could muster as Steve attempted to keep his load – 47000 pounds of steel pipe – in balance. With heroic effort, Steve kept an eye on Arif, the traffic behind Arif, and the traffic behind his own rig, earnestly praying that none of them would get hurt and that his load would not dump. Steve eased his truck onto the shoulder. Thank God there was more shoulder than often is the case in these parts. Steve’s prayers paid off, too – mostly. With all those eyes, the guardian angels on duty must have been cherubim because no one but Arif and the back of the truck were involved in the crash. Arif’s car hit the very back wheel of Steve’s trailer and bounced off. Joe later estimated that the impact was equivalent to traveling at 120 miles an hour.

Pete, a teacher residing in Goodman, spoke of hearing what sounded like an explosion. He ran from his house to see Arif's car spinning across the road, coming to rest on the right shoulder. Apparently, Arif's Toronado bounced off the back wheel of the trailer with enough force to bend the axle and pop the tire. Thank God he had just purchased the Toranado from some friends. He might have fared even worse had he been in the S10.

As his wife dashed back to the house to call 911, Pete walked to Arif's window to talk to him, and to keep anyone else away:

"What is your name?"

"Arif Marshall"

"How old are you?"

"18."

"What does your father do?"

"A ... tea ... cher....."

He could get no more response from Arif.

Chapter 3, Part 2: Our New Home

Arif was brought up to the third floor by the back way. We were instructed to go to the ICU waiting room until they got him settled in his room. It was time to settle into what would become our new home.

Visiting hours were posted at the entrance to the waiting room - 9 AM, 1, 5, and 8 PM for an hour each time. The doors to the ICU wing were closed and locked the rest of the day. Hospital personnel came and went, punching in a code on a keypad on the wall next to the waiting room door. A phone without buttons hung next to the keypad.

The ICU waiting room was bright, but stark. The floor looked to be a shiny oak laminate. Wooden chairs with blue padded seats lined the beige walls. A dozen chairs sat in three neat lines to the left as we entered. A small, dark table lay between the two rows which faced each other. People of all descriptions slumped sleepily, read magazines, or fidgeted nervously in the chairs. An empty table stood in front of the only window in the far right corner. The television hung in the upper left corner, droning the current soap opera. A pay phone adorned the center of the wall to the right. Next to the phone hung a sign and a white board. The sign asked people to respect others’ needs and limit calls to fifteen minutes. On the other side of the phone, the white board had blanks for names, and columns to mark whether they were ‘in’ or ‘out.’ On the table under that phone perched an off-white hospital phone with half a dozen buttons.

The three of us wandered into the room and found seats together near the window, with a lovely view of the parking lot.

We sat down, feeling dazed. No words came to express what each was thinking and feeling.

We waited outside of time. Was it a few minutes, or several hours? There was no counting of time as we were accustomed to its passing.

A man entered, inquiring for the Marshalls. Was he bringing news of Arif? He was not dressed like a doctor, but wore a dark suit.

“We are here.” Joe responded, standing up.

“I am Ed Hahn, hospital chaplain.” He extended his hand.

“Like Scott Hahn?” Joe responded. “He is one of our favorite speakers. Are you related?”

“No, not as far as I know. ... I was told you were here. I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I am available if you want to talk to someone. My office is on the second floor if you need me. But I am not there very much. Here is my card. Call my office and someone can page me if you need to get in touch with me.”

Then he was gone.

The phone on the table rang. Someone picked it up.

“Is there anyone named Marshall here? ... It’s for you.” She handed the phone to Joe.

It was one of Arif’s friends from Crowder College. News had spread quickly about Arif’s accident. By eleven o’clock, it seemed everyone on campus knew about it and was praying for him. There was a somber air on campus. A blood drive was scheduled on Friday. People were planning to give blood on Arif’s behalf.

Joe told her: “We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.”

We were assured of many prayers. Could they come up to see Arif?

Joe told them of visiting hours, but that we did not know, yet if people could see him. But they were welcome to come and visit, even if it was just with us.

A friend, another Mary, came in. She rushed over and threw big hugs around each of us.

“My daughter called and told me she was called for the home school group prayer chain. She said Arif was in an accident.”

“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe responded. He became our spokesman a good bit of the time.

Mary continued: “I go to eleven o’clock Mass here, so I thought I would bring you something to eat. I know you like to eat healthy, so I got these from Panera. They have a lovely chapel here. You should go on down there sometime.”

“Thank you. What a wonderful surprise. We had not even thought that we might be hungry. The chapel will be one of our next activities, once we find out what is up with Arif.” It was my turn to speak.

After she left, we munched on sandwiches. They were satisfying and we were touched by Mary’s thoughtfulness.

The phone rang again. Someone else from the home school group wanted to know what news there might be.

“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe found that he had a script. “We are waiting to talk with the doctor.”

As the day wore on, amidst the calls of concern, we slowly pieced together the story. What happened after Arif left home that Thursday morning.

On Padre Pio's feast day

Stay With Me, Lord
Padre Pio's Prayer After Holy Communion

Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.

Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life and without You I am without fervor.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light and without You I am in darkness.

Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.

Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.

Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much and always be in Your company.

Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.

Stay with me, Lord, as poor as my soul is I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of Love.

Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close and life passes, death, judgment and eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You. It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows. O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers, I need You.

Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.

Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by Communion, at least by grace and love.

Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.

With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.

Note:
Padre Pio was declared a saint on Arif's birthday while he was still in a coma. We know a very holy priest who has a deep devotion to St. Pio. So we feel a special closeness to him.

This prayer comes from Cukierski.net

More information on St. Pio can be found at:
Padre Pio Foundation of America
Padre Pio Devotions
National Center for Padre Pio
EWTN
Padre Pio Net