HOPE

During my very last nursing clinical rotation, a few months before I received my diploma, I worked as a nurse manager on a medical/surgical (med/surg)  floor at a local hospital.  One of my patients was famous.  Well, locally.  His story had been in the papers and talked about around our community.  Tragedy had struck one of our own and it could have been one of us.

HIPPA laws intact, I greeted my patient and family with utmost respect and professionalism.  Then I realized that I knew MOM and she needed a hug.  And I gave her a big one.  Even though I only knew her first name and how she ordered her bagel at Good Grains (present employer), our instant connection was born because of who was silently lying in the hospital bed next to us...her son.

What I read in the paper was sad enough.  First ride on his new motorcycle, freak accident, brain injury, unknown prognosis, teenager.  I followed his progress through another teen I know who visited him a couple weeks post accident, when he was laying precariously balanced in ICU.  I read in the paper about his many friends and loved ones making t-shirts with his name on them to wear to our local Christian music festival, UNITY.  This was not the first time I've experienced Muskegon's compassionate rallying.  I was still amazed and honored.

A couple months later I met this young man.  Despite his contracted limbs, his tall body encompassed the skinny hospital bed.  His eyes open and distant, windows to an unknown connection.  His stuffed fish lay next to him and rolled washcloths tightly fit inside both fists.  A tracheotomy tube poked from his neck, gauze covered his cross-skull incision, and his abdomen housed a gastric feeding tube where I would later pour in his lunch.  Everything was different now.

Hand written notes were taped to the hospital walls with instructions for daily range of motion exercises and clues to communication.  Mom explained with professional precision and proceeded to demonstrate the removal of his leg braces.  I was slightly overwhelmed.  And extremely humbled.  This family had already experienced much more than any nursing student in two months time.  My ears and eyes were wide open.

Bells and whistles aside, caring for this patient was simple.  Care.  Easy for me, mom of two teens.  All I had to do was picture one of my children lying helplessly, imagine the empty answers to unending questions, feel the love emanating in that little room.  Every visitor I met had a smile and thank you for me.  Every chat with mom and dad ended up with a hug and a thank you from me.  This was an awesome three day opportunity.  My formal education may have been ending but my nursing education was beginning with a bang.  I wanted to spend all my time with this family.  To soak up every bit of knowledge.  To learn all of this boy's needs and how to fulfill each.

Stories about his sense of humor and love for life filled our time as I worked side by side with his parents.  They wanted to share and they wanted to teach.  Their strength lifted mine and their hope encouraged more.  They didn't care who knew their story as long as it was told.  And I have been listening ever since.

Now it's my turn to tell and your turn to hear the story of my friend Andrew.  His family made a Care Pages website about life with Andrew since accident day #1 in April 2008.  Myke is his mother's name and my former bagel customer.  She and her husband write as often as possible, including entries of doctor visits, insurance challenges, and life with Andrew's brother, sister, and girlfriend.

I get emailed alerts with each new post and occasionally I'll comment.  I have not seen Andrew in person and I don't think he would remember our first meeting.  However, the incredible miracles he has shown since then prove that his brain is healing.  He won't be the same Andrew who jumped on that motorcycle almost two years ago.  He'll be New Andrew.  Andrew begun again.  Speaking, multiplying, recognizing, remembering, joking, traveling, inspiring.

I pray that you will be inspired by Andrew Steven Bos.

Peace and love.

just so you know, Myke Bos granted me permission to publish this story...thanks friend!