I was not overly enthusiastic about yet another appointment today. Jason wholeheartedly shared in these feelings. I may have resorted to bribery to convince him to shower and get ready. When we pulled up outside the clinic, he grumbled under his breath.
During the check-up, his kidney doctor referred to a discharge summary he'd printed from Jason's medical record. It was written by Jason's primary care physician on April 29th, 2008, when Jason was discharged from our local hospital to a long term facility in Kansas City. I've read much of Jason's medical record, but had never seen this particular report. The nurse printed us a copy so we could read it in its entirety.
As I was reading, I came to the portion that described what happened at 3am on February 29th. It explained that the cuff on Jason's ventilator tube popped. The doctor stated that Jason went into cardiac arrest and coded. The next sentence leaped off the page: "He was able to come back." I was overcome with emotion upon reading these few simple words that held such promise.
The summary also included the sentences, "It was believed that he might not make it" and later, "He has made great strides, and you wouldn't have thought he could have possibly survived this, but he continues to improve." The final sentence of the report read, "My hope is he should do well, rehab, and then one day, actually call us and let us know that he is getting out of the hospital."
These slips of paper were evidence of the tremendous gift we received. He was able to come back and watch his son grow in inches and in self-confidence. He was able to come back and fill our home with uproarious laughter. He was able to come back to return his mom's tight hugs. He was able to come back and sing along with Run DMC's Christmas In Hollis in the car today. He was able to come back to remind me to be grateful.
