Becky and I came to the hospital early each morning to eat in the cafeteria and then start our day with Warren. We were acquainted with many of the medics and also many of the other patient’s families…..we would greet each other cheerily as we all started our day and wished each other a “good” one, whether patient, family or hospital staff. Chaplin Farr introduced us to a couple who were having a hard time coping with the loss of his arm. These many years later, I’m not sure if it was the right or left….but the amputation was between the elbow and shoulder.

He had been hunting with their son-in-law who accidentally shot him in the arm and it couldn’t be saved. He was very bitter and his wife had a problem with the son-in-law, which in turn, posed friction between the parent’s and their daughter. Chaplain Farr believed that we could help by visiting with them since we were products of amputation as well. Most of the time it helps if you can see you aren’t the only one going through a life-changing situation. We did visit with them but as far as how much help we were, I don’t know. God alone is privy to all that. We dropped in on them several times when we could put Warren in a chair with wheels and go to their room.

The staff was keeping Warren very busy now. He had a physical therapist, occupational therapist, and chest/lung therapist. They came and went all through each day and he was growing stronger with each exercise. Becky and I continued to pray with Warren and the staff to strengthen them for what lay ahead of each shift change. His stump was still open and there was no probability of having it closed until he was no longer septic. He continued going to surgery for the de-breeding and the stump was wrapped in gauge until the next time.

It was strange because it continued to feel like the leg was still there. He began having phantom pains that were relentless. There was no way to stop them and no way to know when they would come back. After coming through the initial surgery (guillotine amputation) the pain he felt with the phantoms was so great he couldn’t believe the reality of them. The brain just couldn’t “let go” of the leg and kept sending signals down to mimic hammering on the bottom of the foot, someone sawing at calf-level….something dropped on the toes…….there were many creative ways for the phantoms to come and go. The worst part of it was the fact they would never go completely away……ever. They had to be endured.

The next day we were sad in a way to finally leave ICU-isolation. The doctors felt he was no longer septic and we were moved to a ward where patients were to be flown out to Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Aurora, Colorado for continued therapy and prosthesis. We ordered a large bouquet of flowers for the staff in ICU and had a tearful goodbye. The “kids” hated to lose us as much as we hated to leave them, but the wonderful side of that means that recovery is becoming more eminent. We also had to say good-bye to Becky that day. She was leaving for home now that we no longer had the privacy and space given by ICU….friends from “home” came after her and with a prayer and a kiss, she left.

Warren was asleep and I tiptoed out to the hall and stood by a window looking out across the landscape. On the distant line of hills I could see barren branches sticking up that would soon be covered with leaves. For now, they looked quite dead. Below, the lawn around the hospital complex was vibrant green. The contrast of the two played out the drama of life and death in nature to match the emotions I had been through for the past two weeks. I reached for a pen and wrote the following words………

************************************************************************

FROM A HOSPITAL WINDOW

Dead trees stand erect on distant hills
and look like raised, defiant quills
upon a porcupine.

Below, the April grass of spring
disguises scars and tries to bring
an end to Death.

How much like simple grass and trees
are arms and legs and such as these
…….to live again.

Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther