Jenny’s devotion yesterday brought my son, Matthew’s, stroke to my mind. He had been on life support (for 9 days) and had hundred’s of mini-strokes when he was put on the life support. He was 14 years old and had a heart transplant on December 3, 1990. After the transplant he was in a coma until January 19, 1991. The doctors gave me no hope that Matthew would ever be able to live life as we know it. After the transplant, all he could do is track with his eyes. He had to relearn to swallow, to eat, to talk, to move in ways that we take for granted.
One morning I lifted up his right arm and said, “Matthew, lift up your arm.” It flopped down, totally unresponsive. All morning and part of the afternoon we practiced and his arm continued to flop. I am sure I irritated him as I repeated that one command and one action over and over. The next morning, I stood by his bed and lifted up his right arm. I said, “Matthew, lift up your arm.” He lifted it upon command. His brain had re-wired itself during the night, somehow. It was a miracle.
He did not leave Children’s hospital until shortly after his birthday on April 19th. The nurses were amazed at his determination. The rehab was grueling, painful and frustrating. But if the nurse told him to do an exercise ten times, he would do it twelve. This always impressed them. It also made his rehab possible.
I think many of the most heart-wrenching moments in those months at UCLA and at Children’s Hospital, were those times were parents were notified that that their little ones did not survive.But it also made me appreciate that, no matter how difficult Matt’s rehab, the time we had together was a blessing.
I hold that in my heart.
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