Sodium, Staples and Swelling (Update for February 1, 2016)

Sodium at 139!!!

That's the text I received from Bridget this morning. That damn salt. What I had always thought I had understood — based on food marketing selling low-sodium foods and from media reports touting low-sodium diets — as well as my own ignorance, is that salt was bad. I never realized the importance of salt to your overall health. I guess I never cared. Now, we all hold our breath each morning waiting for the report on his sodium levels. And, today it was good news. We believe it is because he is now eating, and doesn't have to rely on all of his salt to come from salt tablets.

Monday's scheduled therapies.

Sam had a great day in therapy yesterday. The more he can do, the more they expect him to do. Tomorrow, we will have their weekly team meeting between all of Sam's doctors, therapists, the hospital discharge planner, and nurses ... and I will be able to conference into that call, and participate in the planning for his therapy going forward. I except to hear very good news tomorrow.

Weezy, Sam and Bridget's dog, got to make a visit to the hospital (outdoor area) yesterday so Sam could see her. Weezy was happy, but Sam might have been happier. Bridget sent me a few pictures, and Sam is smiling, sitting in a wheelchair with his helmet on, smiling.

But about today, he had a busy day in therapy today, and it went EXCEPTIONALLY well. He did 15 minutes pedaling on an exercise bicycle. He even made eggs and toast. And, according to his dad Danny Whitehorn, his attitude is excellent; he wants to go home. Then tonight, they removed the 55 staples from his head. Bridget said she held his hand, and the nurse was quick, so not much pain compared to what he has been through.

I sent Sam a text first thing this morning, telling him I missed him and I loved him (I think I might have sent him about four similar texts yesterday). He responded with, "OK woman," which is how he always responds to me when he is irritated or annoyed with me. He would never be mean, or get mad at me, he just resorts to jokingly calling me "woman" instead of "mom." It's so good to know his personality is coming back.

Sam has an appointment scheduled for his next CT scan, to see how the brain swelling is receding. We are anxious for the results, so his next surgery can be scheduled. Bridget will be taking him to all of his appointments and therapies as long as they are needed.

Sam and Bridget. One of my favorite pictures.

Bridget is putting aside her job and music aspirations to care for Sam. It's the greatest gift I have ever been given. She will be his caregiver, his transportation, his pharmacist, his spokesperson, his trainer, his friend and his future. I know Sam would do the same for her if the situation were reversed. He asked me before, "Do you love Bridget? Do you?" I said, of course I did, she was so sweet and easy-going. And he said, "I hope so. We really love each other, and we are going to be together forever." I told him I believed it, and I was happy for him. I don't doubt it at all today. There are not many relationships that can survive tragedy, or unexpected stress. I think this one can.

Sam, Molly and their dad at Crystal Bridges Museum. 

One of the reasons Sam is so loved by Bridget, and many others, is because of his quick wit and perfect comedic timing. On Sam's first day of kindergarten, I got laid off of my job at a local hospital. That meant I got to be stay-at-home mom for a few months. I picked Sam up from school every day with the other moms, and that is where I met my dear friend Tricia. We both had children the exact same ages. She came by to see me today (much love to her), and reminded me of a story that illustrates Sam's sense of humor. When he was in 10th grade, and at a honors assembly at his high school, each of the students being recognized had to step up to the microphone and say their name. He went to a huge high school, there were several hundred students being recognized AND his last name starts with a W. You can imagine how tiring it was for those watching and participating. When it was Sam's turn, he said, "I'm Sam I Am." The school administrators may not have liked it, but it sent laughter through the crowd. It woke everyone up.

My brother, Kirk, and his wife, Tonya, came by tonight to visit with me and Dan. Kirk and I are the emotional kids in the family, and we don't miss a chance to cry together. It's soothing for me to be with my brother and Tonya, to laugh and cry a little, and to provide support to each other that everything is going to be OK. We are a strong family.

My sweet babies. 

I am fortunate to have an understanding employer and boss (thanks Eric). Although I know I need to ease back into my new normal and my job, I'm afraid. I'm not even sure what I'm afraid of anymore ... just so much fear for my children's health. I feel like I'm in a high state of anxiety all the time. Both of my children now suffer with brain issues, my daughter with epilepsy of unknown cause and my son with this traumatic brain injury. My daughter was hospitalized three times in the last few years. I have to remember to take one day at a time, and as each day passes with good news and good health, it's just another win.

My friend Tricia suggested I tell everyone our good thoughts and prayer needs:
For Sam: Sodium levels UP and brain swelling DOWN.
For Bridget: Strength
For me, Molly, Dan and our entire family: Peace and understanding

Thank you again for everything, especially if you are reading this blog and thinking of my sweet son.

Bridget's Life With Sam V. 2

Sam and I started our life together in Arkansas, where I was a part of his family and spent time with his lifelong friends. When we moved to Oregon, I was excited for Sam to meet my family and my friends. When they all met him, they loved him, just as I do.

When we left Arkansas, we headed first to my birthplace, New Orleans. We spent time with friends and family. Sam attended college for one year at LSU, and New Orleans is one of his favorite places. Here he is at Cafe du Monde.

Sam and I having dinner with friends in New Orleans.

Sam reading, as usual, in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Sam and our Oregon family ... me, my mom Maggie, Richard, Weezy and Hazel.

Sam on a rock in Tolovana, Oregon. He loves the Oregon coast.

We went to a wedding, and Sam had a "dance off" with a young boy. It was hilarious. That is Sam.

Sam.

Thank you for getting to know Sam.


Bridget Kitson

Home Again (Update for January 31, 2016)

Sam and my mom, his grandmother. 

I left Portland yesterday. I had a complete breakdown as I said goodbye to my son, and he asked me, "Why are you crying?" He probably doesn't realize I cry every day, so yesterday was no different. It was so hard to return home, and I worried about him all day. Then, late last night, I got a text from my son, "Thank you for everything." There's a Chinese proverb that says "One joy can shatter one hundred griefs" and that's how I felt at that moment.

Sam has had his phone in hand, and he looks at messages, but he hasn't been responding. I'm not sure if he is too tired or if he is not able to fully understand what he reads. But, because last night he sent me and his sister, Molly, a text ... I know he'll be doing that again soon as he starts responding to all of the messages of love and support from his friends and family.

Many people have asked me, "How do you feel about Portland now?" And, I have nothing but love for Portland. There are bad people everywhere, and this just proves that crime can happen anywhere. I live in Little Rock, which consistently ranks as one of the most dangerous cities to live in. My daughter went to college in Memphis, a city the FBI previously named as No. 1 in Violent Crime. We have never experienced any crime of any sort in Little Rock or Memphis. I love both of those cities. My point is that crime can happen anywhere, I do not blame the city or the people. There are criminals and bullies everywhere, and Portland has its share.

Sam and my dad, his grandfather.

I don't even mind the weather in Portland. It seems like it is always wet in Portland, but I never saw it rain. It may be because for the first week and a half I was there, I arrived at the hospital (via Uber) before it was light outside. I walked approximately 378 steps through the hospital every day. I actually counted the steps I took to my son's hospital bed. Then, I walked back the 378 steps to the Emergency Entrance of the hospital each day (the main entrance was always closed when I left) and took an Uber back the 1.3 miles to the hotel. The rain, the weather, nothing about Portland bothered me except that my son was hurt in this city. The sun peeked out one day, and I felt like the characters on the TV show Portlandia, wanting to stand in the sunshine for just a minute. And, the sun was out the day he took an ambulance to rehab ... a good sign.

I was unable to see most of Sam's therapy in person yesterday, as I was traveling home to Arkansas, but Bridget will now be my eyes and ears. She's up to the task. I was there in the morning for his speech therapy, and the focus was on his medications. He is taking 10, yes 10, medications every day. Obviously, we don't want that, and he doesn't want that, to continue forever. His therapist discussed each with him, and which meds he can quit taking soon.

After that, he had a full day of PT and OT. He did perfectly, but still favored his injured ankle. He even got to shoot a basketball, one of his all-time favorite activities. Bridget said they played Jenga and started making lists. One of Sam's all-tome favorite games, which he and Molly and I played ALL THE TIME, and he and Bridget play together ... is LIST MAKING. It sounds silly, but we take turns making lists of our Top 5 favorite movies, books, TV shows, or whatever. Bridget said yesterday they played that game, kinda, in therapy. For example, name 3 mammals living in the sea (not sure I could do that one). He did great.

Sam and his uncles, Jon and Kirk, and cousin Jake.

He ate all three of his meals yesterday, including all of his breakfast. That's a triumph. It's been hard to get him to eat much, and he keeps losing weight, so we want him to EAT. He is finally getting his appetite back.

Cousins Lona, Molly, Celia, Josi, Emma, Sam and Jaxon.

I left my home in Arkansas for Portland exactly two weeks ago today, unsure of what exactly happened and knowing my son was in ICU after having emergency brain surgery. It was a difficult trip there. I had no idea the extent of his injuries, how long he would be in the hospital, what his future would look like, nothing. That trip seems like a lifetime ago. I bought a one-way ticket there; I didn't know how long I would stay. Although I have more information, my son is out of immediate danger and I'm positive he will have his life back ... it's scary how your life can change on a dime. Sam's life will never be the same. He will never be able to ride a bike again, go snow skiing, ride a jet ski, maybe never again play pick-up basketball games or softball ... he won't be able to do anything where he might have a head injury. He has to be careful every single day. Can you imagine how overwhelming that might be? I don't want him to live a life of worry and fear, so I'm struggling with how he can be careful without it interfering in his daily activities. It's going to be a never-ending journey.

Sam and Molly. 

I look at things differently now. When we were at his apartment, Dan counted the steps to his second-story apartment ... 20 steps, handrail on the right. There's an overhang. Three steps to the door to his apartment. A rug I deemed slippery on their hardwood floors, so I moved it. Wood floors mean non-slip shoes. Does he have those? I took Weezy for a walk, and there's a busy intersection with cars and cyclists before you can cross the street to the park. The grass was damp and slippery, so I don't want him walking there. Everything looks and seems different to me. Until Sam has his skull re-inserted into his head, he's like a baby with a soft spot (to me), and everything is terrifying. I want to protect him.

I talked to Bridget this morning, and she has sent me some more photos of their life together, specifically their month-long trip across the United States prior to their settling in Portland. They had the best time, cementing their relationship for the long haul. I've said it before, and I will say it a million times more, Bridget is an angel. Whatever good thing you think about her, it's true. She is as dedicated and committed as they come. She and Sam have a true love. She and I have spent lots of time together this week until we joked that "we are one." We have sent each other the same exact texts at the exact same time, over and over. Not sure what that means, but I'm grateful that we are thinking alike.

I feel like I sound negative and that is probably true, because this is a negative experience. I am pissed off that Sam has been put in this situation. However, he is getting better and stronger every day. He's laughing and talking about his sister, his friends, his favorite movies. My only salvation is that I can see my son returning to his funny, brilliant self. For now, I can show you who he is, and let everyone learn to love him as his family and friends do.

Today, there is a fundraiser for Sam, Suds for Sam, at Saraveza in Portland from 11 a.m. until 11:59 p.m. I am, again, humbled and grateful.

Today's blog features photos of Sam and his family. There will be a second blog today with photos of Sam and his life with Bridget. The photos she is sharing just make me cry.

Thank you Heather.

I want to send a special thank you to my dear friend, Heather and her husband, Jason. She was my first visitor upon my return. She made Dan and I an amazing frittata and ciabatta bread (all homemade), and she listened to me pour my heart out. Forever grateful.

I also want to send a thank you to my long-time friend Neal Moore, who is writing an article today for the Maumelle Monitor (Moore on Maumelle) about Sam and the power of GoFundMe. I'll post the link when I have it.

Much love to all. Thank you for your prayers, your thoughts and messages, and your generous donations.

Goodbye to Portland for Now (Update for January 29, 2016)

"It's weird that you are leaving tomorrow. I wish you didn't have to leave." 

Just guilt and despair. Just pain and tears. I don't want to leave him. 

I have to leave tomorrow. It was hard for me to focus on today because of that hard fact. Sam asked me last night, "Were you ever going to come to Portland again? If I hadn't been hurt, would you have come again?" I told him of course I was (we came last summer), and we were planning on a trip in the fall. I don't think he remembers that.

I've made many mistakes as a parent, so many, but the one thing (besides offering unconditional love) I've always tried to be is reliable. I wanted my children to know I'm not going to let them down; they can always count on me. One time, when Sam was a freshman at Central High School in Little Rock, I was picking him up early from school for a dentist appointment. I told him that I'd be waiting for him in the registrar's office after his second block class. When class was dismissed, he and several of his friends came up to the office door window and looked in at me, and then his friends all proceeded to give Sam a dollar. I asked Sam what that was all about, and he said, "I bet them $1 that you would be here waiting." I said, "How did you know for sure?" And he said, "I knew you would be here. You always are."

He thought that was no big deal; that's what moms do. I always remembered that he noticed. To a kid, a parent just being present and reliable is everything. If you want to give your child anything, give them a sense of security. When I think about that moment now, it makes me cry. I hope he knows I will always be here. That's why it hurts so much to leave; I don't want him to think I am not here for him. 

Sam and me

Today, Sam had a good day overall. He completed his tasks with occupational therapy, pushed through physical therapy (bad ankle and all), and killed it in speech therapy. His speech therapist told him she was going to call him the slayer because he killed it. Corny, I know. After his morning therapies, he was exhausted. He took a nap, then back to therapy where he did great. They have a team meeting every Tuesday - with all of his doctors, therapists, nurses, the discharge planner - where I will hear more about their thoughts and results. I won't be here physically, but I will conference in to those calls. 

I had my first breakdown of the day today when Sam went to therapy and told me he didn't want me to leave. But it was more than that. I was sitting in the therapy waiting room, with Sam, where all the patients wait as they hustle them to each therapy session according to their daily schedules, and I was looking around at all of the patients in their wheelchairs ... and it just hit me AGAIN that this is his life right now. Wheelchairs and pain and therapy and hospitals ... I hate it so much for him. I know he is doing so much better than is expected, I know that he will be himself in time, and I know that he is much loved ... but it doesn't make it right or fair. And it doesn't make me accept it. It just hurts. 

In speech therapy, he did math, memory games, recognition exercises and more. He did very well; how far he has come is a miracle. You can believe in miracles or not, but I am confident this is one. His issue right now is reading, which I have mentioned before. He gets tired and stressed with long paragraphs or stories, so that will be the focus of his continued therapy. 

Sam napping after therapy

Today was exhausting for him. He was quiet, and complained of being dizzy, tired and nauseated a few times. But he has a goal, he knows that working hard gets him closer to getting home and outpatient therapy. He wants to be go back to his life with Bridget, and we know he can do it. He thinks he is fine, and that he doesn't need more therapy or 24-hour supervision, but that is not true. With a brain injury, it takes time. If you think of it like a broken arm or broken leg, it works the same. It takes time to heal, it's just longer with a brain injury. 

I got a glimpse of Bridget's and Sam's life today. Dan and I took a break, kinda, and went to Sam and Bridget's apartment to walk their dog, Weezy, and take care of a few things. Dan installed curtains on their windows for them. I had never been to this apartment before (they just moved to this one), but it made me a little bit happy. Their life surrounded me, with their mountains of books and Bridget's keyboard, speakers and music. There was evidence of Sam's favorite sports team with Green Bay Packers "art" and a GO HOGS cutting board. His Breathe Right strips were on his nightstand, along with a stack of books. Their life is sweet and honest. I can't wait until he can return.

Dan hanging curtains

Today, the neuropsychologist visited with us, and it was my second time to cry. He said to expect him to be angry or emotional or repetitive. Expect him to forget words when he is tired or stressed (he called his blanket "Democrat" today ... so I will let someone else figure out the connection). But, he also said that Sam is doing so well that he has complete faith that he will be back to himself in time. I know he's right. I know it. But, when I look at my son, lying in a hospital, coughing, in pain, wanting to go home and saying," How is this my life?" I just want to scream. 

I don't want to leave him tomorrow. I know I will just be counting the days until I can come back to be near my son. I want to apologize ahead of time to my friends and family in Arkansas because I might cry the first time you see me. 

I'm scared to leave him tomorrow. Bridget feels strong and confident, and she knows she can take care of him. She's already getting her "Sam Sitters" together to be with him when she has to go to class or run an errand. I am glad she has a reliable network in Portland. I'm still worried about the stairs up to his apartment, his little head and helmet, his memory, his reading, his life. 

Thank you Maggie!

My next blog will be Sunday, as I will be traveling. I will be relying on Bridget, Sam's dad, and Molly to help with updates going forward ... until I return to Portland. I will try to be more positive. I know he is getting better, but I'm still furious at what got him here in the first place. 

Bear with me. 

P.S. Some good news, The Abbey Bar fundraiser for Sam raised $2,713.83!

Step Down for a Step Up (Update for January 28, 2016)

It's been a good day.

We stayed very late at the hospital last night, as Bridget went to The Abbey Bar fundraiser for Sam to express our gratitude. Sam, Dan and I watched the movie “Twister” and some Adam Sandler movie. Sam asked us what our favorite Adam Sandler movie was … his was “Water Boy” as was Dan’s. I said “Big Daddy” at first, then he said, “What about The Wedding Singer?” I had forgotten I always loved that movie, but he remembered. 

Abbey Bar fund raiser for Sam

He was so tired last night, and kept saying he was tired, but he didn’t want to go to sleep because he couldn’t wait to talk to Bridget about The Abbey Bar fundraiser. She sent pictures while she was there, and I showed them to Sam and he told me who some of the people were, then asked me who some of the people were … of course, I unfortunately did not know them. When Bridget came in, she was over the moon about all of the support and people at the fundraiser, telling Sam all about it. We left them, her sitting on his bed, talking about the love and support they are feeling. 

http://katu.com/news/local/fundraiser-for-injured-packers-fan

When I woke up today, I didn’t wake up sobbing. A few tears, but no sobbing. I’m thankful for firsts. I have cried every single morning since I've been here, before I could think one straight thought, just tears of fear and anger. It didn't change when Dan arrived, but he's just been a rock. He's the most stand-up guy you can imagine. 

Sam and his new football!

When Dan and I got to the hospital, Sam was in good spirits, and I said I had a gift for him. He asked if it was food, as I think he had forgotten that the Green Bay Packers were sending him something. When he saw it, he was shocked and excited because he got a signed note and picture from Aaron Rodgers, an autographed football, team sportswear, and more. 

http://katv.com/community/7-on-your-side/packers-contact-injured-fan

The medical transport team came at noon to move him to the rehabilitation facility, another positive as we move to the next step-down unit. Bridget and Dan rode in her car to the hospital, and I rode in the ambulance with Sam. My first ambulance trip. The rehab facility is quieter, the room is larger, but the TV is old school (no flat screen here), so Sam said it was his least favorite thing about the new hospital. He has a bulletin board, so we put all of his cards up for him to see. Although he’s seen them before, he asked again who sent him each one. We thought he would have a roommate (dorm style), but he has his own room. The medical personnel knew that Sam does better when Bridget is here, so they got him a private room with a rollaway bed so Bridget can stay and help him as needed. No words. 

We met with the physician’s assistant (she gave him a math question, and he answered it faster than I could), nurses, speech therapist (Michelle’s back!) and his physical therapists. With Michelle, Sam answered 56 of the 60 questions correctly. He had to look at pictures and then tell her what it was. He couldn’t quite pull the word “hammock” back, but he knew it started with an H. And, he couldn’t remember the name of “asparagus” but he cheated and read her notes upside down. He admitted it to her, and said he wouldn’t do it again. Made himself laugh. She said, “That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile. He’s making amazing progress.” I was asking questions and answering questions of all the medical personnel, and he told me I was talking too much. Nice. 

When you come to this facility as a patient, you have to take a step back from whatever you were doing before and are under observation for everything you do for the first 24 hours. He’s been walking without his walker, but now they are evaluating that again. The only issue is that his ankle is still swollen and bruised, and it hurts for him to walk on it. He has a window now to look out, and he can’t get enough. He asked if we could all go out to dinner tonight … 

Bridget went to class so Dan and I sat with Sam, and watched TV. Dan went and got us some ice cream! Although Sam still has fluid restrictions, he can eat whatever we can get him to eat. His appetite has not completely returned, and he’s lost another pound in the last few days. He did eat some breakfast, about half a salad for lunch, some ice cream and a little piece of turkey and mashed potatoes for dinner. Sam is better every day, but I can tell his memory of this “time” goes back only 4 to 5 days. If you ask when something happened, he says “ four days.” He complains that he is tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep. He asks me every day, “When did you get here?” He always asks us if we can watch a movie together, and when he can leave. He repeats himself because of the short-term memory loss. He wants to go home with Bridget. He is very cognizant of the fact that the better he does here, the more he learns and follows directions, the quicker he can return home and just go to outpatient therapy. We are hoping it will be soon. Bridget is ready for her new world. He will return home with the helmet, until his surgery, so he won’t be out and about. He will be healing.

He is not ready for visitors; we are requesting only family at this time. When Sam gets stronger and feels more comfortable, he will call his friends and reach out on his own. When he does that, when he makes those phone calls, it's a day we can all celebrate. He has been asking me questions all day, questions he would usually know the answer to like who is my favorite actor, who is my favorite actress, and then he asked me: 

Sam: What is your favorite movie? 
Me: Emma. 
Me: What’s yours? 
Sam: Not Emma. 

He’s showing his sense of humor, and it’s making me so happy. 

Yesterday, I felt so weak and hopeless, but today I feel better, stronger. The progress he is making every day is nothing short of miraculous, and I owe it to all of you for the prayers and good thoughts coming our way. I owe it to good medicine, and hard-working nurses and doctors. I also am thankful Sam is young and strong, and oh so smart, so that he will get back to who he was. 

I’ve only cried once today, and only felt on the verge of tears about 5 times, instead of every single second of every single day. I know this is the natural progression … as he seems better, I can start to let myself feel better. It just didn’t seem fair … as he lay in a hospital bed with a bolt sticking out of his head, struggling to fight nausea, to get up and go to the bathroom, to control headaches, to regain his strength and memory, to be missing a piece of his skull … it just didn’t seem fair for me to feel any sort of normalcy, to be happy for even one minute, to smile or laugh, to enjoy food or a good night’s sleep. I know life’s not fair, but this seems to push the limits of what anyone should have to endure. When your child is hurting, there’s just no pain that can compare. I will never again take my life or my children’s lives for granted, and I will tell them I love them and miss them every single day. I also will try to be more empathetic when others are in pain. We all have our struggles and heartache, and I want to be aware and sympathetic of yours. I am sorry if I have ever not been.

I have to leave here on Saturday, to try to return to my life for a few weeks (before I come back to Portland). I don’t want to leave him, but I’m grateful his dad will be here when I’m gone. I want to continue to surround him with love from his family, so he knows he is not alone in this fight.

See the wonderful gifts we have received from my friends in Arkansas. So much love. 

Thank you Tracy.

Thank you Damona.

Thank you Judy.

Thank you Rene.

Much love.

Listening to Music and My Pain (Update for Wednesday, January 26)

Last night I played a song for Sam, Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (a song both my mom and I love, and that she recently posted for Sam). After he heard it, he wanted me, him and Dan to take turns picking songs to play. Sam picked "Famous Blue Raincoat" by Leonard Cohen; "A Case of You," by Joni Mitchell; "Song for Zula" by Phosphorescent (he said because his sister loves this song); and "A Whiter Shade of Pale" by Procol Harum. Dan picked songs by Kenny Rankin and John Hiatt, and I picked songs by Art Garfunkel, Bonnie Raitt and John Prine. The point of this is that Sam's long-term memory is intact. He made need some reminders and hints, but then he remembers. His short-term memory will be the focus for his therapy. 

We thought Sam might be transferred to rehab today. So, our plan was for Bridget and I to go shopping to buy Sam a recliner for when he returns home (thanks to my mom and stepdad), and while we were shopping Dan and Sam were going to walk downstairs and get a banana smoothie. Sam said he didn't want to go to rehab today, because he wanted to get a banana smoothie with Dan. Oh my heart.

He was NOT transferred to rehab today, so one more night in Acute Care. He took a shower today, and when he got out of the shower and saw himself in the mirror ... scared and emotional. Seeing him upset set me free, and I cried and told him it won't be long until the cranioplasty, and it would be OK. While Sam and I were both upset, Bridget was soothing him with, "It's no big deal. Remember, I told you? You'll be good as new soon. It's OK. I love you." Oh my goodness, Bridget. Where does she find the fortitude? She is right, of course. He IS getting better each day. 

Bridget, Sam and Molly - December 2015.

Because they thought Sam was leaving today, they cancelled his therapies. However, his speech therapist came by and said she only had one question for Sam, "What is going to happen when you transfer to the rehab facility?" and he said, "I don't know. I guess I will have lots of opportunities." After that, Sam, Dan, Bridget and I took a long walk all over the hospital. We looked at the art, and out the windows toward downtown Portland. At one point, Sam stopped and seemed to be reading something (a testimonial poster on a wall) about a girl overcoming a traumatic brain injury. I said, "She came through it." And he said, "I just can't read right now." My son, who loves nothing more than reading, can't read right now. And, it is not his fault. 

Whether Sam is getting a shot, a drink, an IV, meds, dinner, bed linens changed ... whatever it is, he is so polite to the caregiver. He says, "thank you" about 50 times a day. Both of my children have always been polite and grateful. One time, when Sam was little, he went to a birthday party, and when the little boy opened the present from Sam (which I had, of course, bought), he acted ugly, threw the gift down and said he already had one of those. Of course, it hurt Sam's feelings. I felt terrible, but I took it as a lesson learned. I told him, "You know how that made you feel? You don't want to make others feel that way. Always say 'thank you' and be grateful even if you have 10 more at home." Both he and Molly remembered that lesson, and they have always been the BEST at saying "thank you" no matter what the situation. 

A card for Sam. 

Today, Sam's sodium level was 137! A prayer answered. But his headaches continue, as you might expect. I want him to have some relief from this, but those damn headaches continue every day. His headaches were bad tonight, so low lights, pain meds, Tylenol, quiet. Anything we could do to help. And, his cough is back. It's just so frustrating. 

Below are Sam's actual injuries and surgeries outlined. It makes me physically ill. 

• Subdural hemorrhage
• Subarachnoid hemorrhage
• Intracranial hemorrhage
• Cerebral edema with hyponotremia
• Skull fracture, temporal
• Removed left bone flap
• Scheduled for cranioplasty (return left bone flat) within 4 to 6 weeks

Today, as with most days, it's overwhelming. I'm thankful for Dan and Bridget or I just might go crazy. I can't understand why this has happened. I just can't. There is no making sense of it, and people have told me, "Don't try." I've always said that I believed in fate, that I thought things happened for a reason. Now, right now, I believe I was naive. There's no reason for this, and I can't see how good can come of it. Maybe I'll see or feel that one day, but not today. I've mentioned to my family that I feel like I'm being punished, like I've done something wrong. I thought my baby girl being diagnosed with epilepsy just a few years ago, something that changed her life and makes me fearful for her safety every single day, would break me. Then this happened. It has knocked me to my knees, made me question everything. When your children are hurting, through no fault of their own, it's the worst kind of frustration.The worst kind of pain. You here people say, "If I could change places with him, I would." I get that now. I would in a second. If only I could. I cry to the heavens every day, what have I done? I'm sorry! Why am I being punished? Please don't hurt my children anymore! Please God. Please. I'm begging for some peace. The pain is raw and real, and I'm praying for comfort. 


With all of my heartache, I'm still thankful for you. If you are reading this and thinking of Sam or praying for Sam, I'm grateful to you.

So Many Thank Yous

I have so many people to thank (and if you are reading this, you are one of them), but I do want to thank some people and entities specifically. So this blog is all about thanks.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to:

• Anthony T. — This guy promised to wear his Packers beanie until Sam goes home. It made me cry. Also Joshua B. and David Q. for showing their support online. 
• The Green Bay Packers fans and the Packers themselves for showing their support. 
• Vikings fans, Seahawks fans, 49ers Fans, Patriot Fans ... and NFL fans for their messages of hope. 
• Joan and Harry for the Green Bay Packers jacket. 
• My friends back in Arkansas specifically Karen (my touchstone), Carl (who’s suffered such loss this past year), Damona, Kristy, Trey, Tracy, Martha, Eric, Linda, Rene, Susan, Ron, Andrea, Phillip, Curtis, Jim, David, Kathy, Tricia, Mark, Alex, Judy, Matthew, Julie, Wendy, Genny, Heather, Lisa T., Ryan, Chip, Katie, Lisa C., Mike, Steve, Kim, Ann, Jean, Lin, Mark and Joy, and Becky and Jay. I may be missing a few names, so I apologize but know I am grateful for everything you have done for me and Sam. 
• My employer and my co-workers at Arkansas Blue Cross and Blue Shield. I wish everyone had an employer and co-workers like these … we are family. 
• My parents, my brothers, my sisters-in-law, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my nieces and nephews and Sam’s friends specifically Regina, Jeffrey, Wilson, Ellen and Nick. They give him love and strength. He is so fortunate to have them.
• Josie, Sam and Bridget's friend. What a sweetheart. She was here when I couldn't be. 
• Legacy Emanuel Medical Center - This is where you want to be if you have a traumatic brain injury. Thanks to his neurosurgeon Dr. Kent Grewe, his ICU nurses Katie, Eric, Jason and Amanda. His Acute Care nurses Rachel, Dakotah, Selena, Emily and many others. 
• Uber drivers Brian and Anwar. I am now a huge Uber fan. 
• Crowne Plaza Convention Center — They sent flowers, gave me a special hotel rate, and much more. Especially Karlyn. 
• Maggie, Bridget’s mother, who has coordinated fundraisers and was here from the very beginning. She brings me peace. She takes care of Bridget. 
• Sam’s father, Danny Whitehorn, who will be here after I leave to go back to Arkansas for a bit to give Sam and Bridget support. 
• The Abbey Bar, Sam’s employer, for their support and fundraising.
• My long-time love and partner in life, Dan. He is now by my side, here to give Bridget, Sam and I whatever we need. He’s made Sam’s bed, sat with him, walked with him, read to him, and made him laugh. I couldn’t do this without him. He’s keeping me positive and hopeful. I can’t explain what he means to me. 
• Bridget, my son’s precious girlfriend. From the very first day he met her, he told me “I’m in love. We will be together forever.” I laughed it off, but he was right. He knew it. She is his life, and I am grateful for her every day. She’s shown strength and love under the most devastating circumstances. She is her mother’s daughter. During the holidays, we were celebrating their Arkansas homecoming at our favorite Little Rock eatery, owned by my dear friend Gio … Bruno’s Little Italy … and Sam was joking around about his gaining a few pounds, and Bridget responded to him with, “I still love you.” He teased her later about the “still” when what she had meant was “I will love you no matter what.” She is proving that every day. 
• My daughter, Molly. No words, just know that she offers me advice, love and keeps me grounded and hopeful. When I talk to her on the phone, she reminds of how far Sam has come.  I'm so grateful. We share everything, including this pain. She’s had her own struggles the past few years, with a diagnosis of epilepsy, but she has faced with it with grace and has never used it as a crutch. She has always been independent and confident and smart, and she’s helping me think clearly. When Sam could talk on the phone briefly, she’s the person he turned to. They have always been best friends. He asks about her every day, and she will be with him in a few weeks. 
• And, finally, all of the GoFundMe donors. I have never met the majority of them, but now they have touched me forever. Know that I read every single message and am grateful beyond measure. 
• The guys from KATU and KGW here in Portland. You know who you are, and I am grateful for your fair reporting.
• The Portland Police Department detectives. I trust them and know they will seek justice for my son. 

I read the above to Sam, and he said, "I would add some more things about me. Like some compliments about me." That made me so happy. His sense of humor is coming back.