New Year’s Greetings from
The Coleman’s and St. Marie’s
Regroup & Rethink
2010 started for our family much like it did for many others; with peace, celebration, and a strong sense of future. Shortly afterward, on February 11th, our lives were changed forever. The day began like any other winter day, but by evening we were in Mission Hospital ICU with Mimi. (Tim’s Mom, aka Ms. Minnie, aka Rev. Mignon Coleman). At Transylvania Regional hospital for a routine test, she had suffered a full cardiac arrest, during which her brain went without oxygen for several moments. Once stabilized, she was airlifted to Mission Hospital in Asheville. Suddenly, what we knew (or thought we knew) to be true.. wasn’t. We were thrown for a loop in every possible way. Our family was interrupted, our relationships began to take on a new fervor, and our faith was to be eternally shaken.
Eternal vs. Temporal
We spent the next 3 weeks living in Asheville and we were at the hospital almost every waking minute. We found ourselves being hanged between the temporal and the eternal; and having to choose where to live. There was nothing really wrong with Mom’s body, but she would not wake up. They had ceased the IV sedative drugs initiated during the arrest, but still, she was not responding. The temporal was demanding fear of us.
Minnie is a great woman of faith, but now, as far as we knew, she was not aware of anything on this earth. We would eventually come to know that Mom’s cardiac arrest had left her without oxygen just long enough to cause an Anoxic/Hypoxic brain injury - the extent of which was completely unknown at this point. She remained in a comatose state for her entire stay in the hospital. At that time, the temporal pressed us on all sides -the doctors, the thoughts and doubts, the prognoses. There seemed to be nothing to point us beyond the present.
But there was no hope looking at what we could see. Our choice, as a family, would be to dwell in eternity, and believe for her recovery. We knew this would be the only sure-footed place we could walk. The eternal gives way to faith.
Joy In the Morning
Those were long days and nights... long days and nights of not knowing. Then, on March 4th, and even though she was not conscious or showing signs of brain activity, we made a decision as a family, (against the advice of the medical community), to bring Mom to our home instead of sending her to a long-term care facility. We brought her hospital room home and began caring for someone who could not now, and may never, respond to us.
But, she was surrounded by family - lots of activity and noise - and after only a few days she began to become more aware of us, which we could tell from eye and head movements. It was a couple more weeks and she began to make verbal sounds. We didn’t know if there were anything she understood, or if she would ever be able to respond with any coherence to us - the doctors had given us no hope. But as the vocal sounds began coming, the proverbial morning light began to dawn. We had our first evidence that what we had trusted for all along was going to manifest.
There was one joyous evening in particular when several of us were gathered around her bed (in the middle of our family room), and we began to ask her to look at different members to see if she recognized who they were. She responded with great accuracy and we were elated. Then Cliff thought he heard her say his name. We asked her to repeat herself and she did! Next we asked her to say another name - which she did. Then we pointed to Tim and said, “Who’s that?” She responded, “Tim.” I remember sitting on her bed when Tim asked, “Who is that?” She responded by saying my name! There was such great rejoicing in our home that night! After a long 2 months, we finally had something to hold on to.
Overwhelmed
We started with home health coming in about 3 times per week for Occupational, Physical and Speech Therapy. Because of her response to this, it was decided that she was ready for more, and she was admitted to an Inpatient facility, beginning an overwhelming few months. She was in the Inpatient facility for about a month, and we traveled back and forth to Asheville daily. She was moved to outpatient in June, which meant transporting her in the car 3 or 4 times per week. (It took about 2 hours of preparation time every day to get out of the house.)
Progress was slow and tedious - for everyone - but we were watching a miracle in progress. She was still not fully aware of her surroundings, and still having times, even during therapy, that she would just space out. (This was due to the brain injury and having not regained full consciousness yet.) This was a challenge, as we had limited appointment time with the therapists. Her physical strength had diminished greatly, her muscles atrophied, as well as having joints that were inactive because of the brain injury. She didn’t have much stamina, and tired easily during therapy, sometimes causing them to cut it short.
She was (and is) having to re-learn how to do everything - move her body, use her hands, talk, and even think. (She worked for weeks to learn to grab a cup.) By the end of August she had made enough progress that she was beginning to be able to stand with assistance. Quite the miracle, since just six months earlier the medical community had not given us any hope of recovery.
A setback came in the middle August, though, when she and I took a fall during a transfer while visiting my parents. As a result, Mom had a hip fracture that wasn’t discovered until a month later. In September, it was decided that a full hip replacement was the best option, but the surgery was not completed until Mid-November. Post surgery recovery was slow, at best - not like a “normal” person. Her brain injury caused confusion about pain and what had happened, as well as other aspects of recovery.
(By the first of December physical therapy had begun again, and after about 3 months of no therapy at all, is currently making slow progress.)
Immanuel
TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) always leaves behind one person and begins another. It is unpredictable in every way, except for its unpredictability. In Mom’s case, it has changed her - body, mind, and soul. If but for a little while, she has virtually lost use of her body, she can’t always process well mentally, her short term memory is unpredictable - and she needs someone to do everything for her. Because of this, there is always someone from our family with her, and usually two people.
As a family, and individually, we have not faced anything like this before. It requires our attention twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. The reality in which we live is that Tim and I are frequently drained of energy, and are tired a good bit of the time. As a family, we struggle to have time together, and to keep everyone enthusiastic and positive. All of our relationships have suffered as a result of this event. As you can imagine, our stress levels continually run high, with very little margin. In addition to taking care of Mom full-time, we have seven children, (5 at home), we homeschool, Tim works full-time, I run the house, and also continue to run North Carolina’s state homeschool conference every year.
Our care of Mom is only partially about her physical being. Much of what we deal with is the rest of her - her spirit and soul. She is much more complicated than she used to be. Sometimes she is very vocal about what she wants, and sometimes she’s confused about what’s real or what’s possible to achieve in her current state. Her emotions are fragile, and it’s difficult for her to remain positive. We walk a fine tightrope between making decisions for the Minnie that isn’t able to make them for herself, and honoring the desires of the Minnie who still knows very much what she wants. These two people intertwine and sometimes it’s difficult to figure out which one is talking at the moment.
It is difficult to imagine what she must feel like having her world so dramatically impacted. And it is completely understandable that it is, at best, difficult, for her to cope with her new reality. OUR family is given the mandate to help and encourage her to excel above coping, to keep focused on recovery, and to maintain a will that surmounts all the obstacles she most certainly faces and will continue to face.
Any strength that any of us posses on a given day comes from knowing that we are all under the watchful eye of the One who covers us continually with His care. None of us has the ability to live this through human power. We know that we can only walk this road through and in the God who dwells with us.
Change: “Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” Maria Robinson
Lots of things have changed in each of our lives this year, and we learned months ago that we can’t ever go back. We can only move forward. We’ve learned to take each day on it’s own merit - and change is a part of EVERY day for us. So.. to sum up our year and our lives right now - one word? Change.
Circumstances and situations have shifted on many levels. We are not ending the year with the same Minnie Coleman with whom we began it. Mom is not the same, and in all likelihood never will be the same as she was just one year ago. She’s living with us permanently. She is no longer at Living Waters. We moved her belongings to a storage unit near our house in October. She has great anointing, and thrives when she’s flowing in it. We’ve watched God close doors this year, and we’re now we’re watching Him open new ones. Mom hasn’t yet fulfilled her destiny - it’s just shifting to a new focus.
That’s our year in review. We’ve cried, we’ve struggled, we’ve fought, we’ve laughed, and we’ve grown. It’s not over yet, but we continue to see the hand of God keeping us through this leg of our journey.
Excitement about the Future
As a family, we know that God has a future for us. We know that we will always be surrounded by our Kingdom family, who will offer a strong support system for all of us, as well as ministry opportunities for Minnie and the rest of us. The possibility of what is yet to be creates a new excitement for our family - a refueling and hope for our future. We are actively listening every day for God's direction.
So we are ending this year much differently than we began it - with a different Minnie Coleman than the one with whom we started. All of us are different people now, and we’re not yet what we will be. We are grateful for life, love, family, and most of all, the Constant Hand of our Loving Father.
Blessings to all of you for the new year dawning. May the grace of God keep you and may your families grower closer and richer in Him.
(The plan for this blog is to allow you to see intimately into our lives, thoughts, struggles, and celebrations throughout the year.)
Signed; One Voice
R E J O I C E
