Sunday, 11/15, 2:30 pm

Last night was rough.

We've known since we got here that his head trauma was the primary concern. Our salty nurse mentioned a condition that she read in his records. She didn't say it was a diagnosis or suggestion or whatever, she just said she read the words. We had told her that none of the doctors had really spoken to us. She stared at me blankly and said "If it was my family, I'd demand to speak to the neurologist." She refused to say any more.

Mom left dad's room for a moment and I instantly grabbed my computer. It was 10 pm, I felt powerless, and all I could do was start researching. I remembered the condition and by the power vested in Google, I started to read. Then panic.

The condition she described will be left out of this discussion until I have a specific diagnosis from an MD, but it can be the most devastating of all brain traumas. Patients tend to live in a vegetative state, 90% never wake up, and those that do almost never regain full function. That's the worst of it. The milder forms can make an almost full recovery. Right now, we've got no idea where he may lie within that spectrum.

I fell apart. I sobbed into my blanket so dad wouldn't hear me. Mom came back in and I slammed my Mac shut. I couldn't bear to let her read it until I knew more. I made her get her pal Dr. Andy on the phone. He works with cardio, but I had a feeling he'd know something to help me rationalize the neuro. He did, I regrouped, and I took action.

Mom and I had a mini-conference outside the wing, then geared up for our fight. I walked back to our nurse and said that we'd be back at 3:30 am, and were not leaving his room until we spoke to a neurologist. She understood, and for the first time that night, showed compassion; she brought us 2 warm blankets.

The neurologist finally came through at 7 am. I was barely awake but angry enough to pull through it. I fired questions at him like an automatic weapon. He spoke in incredibly general terms, and I kept pushing. I needed to know if that condition was a diagnosis, a suggestion or a mere pondering. He told me it was one of a list of possibilities, none of which they were currently able to confirm. That oddly made me feel better.

We've now gotten a more realistic picture of where his brain function lies. We are exactly where we thought we were yesterday, just with a nervous curveball and shaken faith in the form of a gruff overnight nurse. Dad's got lots of contusions (bruises) on his left frontal area. That's an important one- it controls speech, movement, and some portions of memory. Surgery's not an option, nor should it be now, because removing any part of that eliminates any chance for healing itself.

According to the neurologist, the priority this week has been stabilization and reduction of swelling, which we knew. We have to ensure his other bodily functions are in tact (eg his kidneys don't fail) while his brain decides what it wants to do. He is no longer on any kind of sedative, so we do see some reactions to pain stimuli. Over the next 1-2 weeks, we should see an increase in responses in reaction and some independent action. I'm asking Santa to let my dad speak to me for Christmas.

I've got to get in line now to reserve 2 of the coveted family waiting room sleeping chairs for me and mom. She's driving back to her house to pick up clothes for the week, get the mail, and spend some time with our beloved dog Daisy. It's the first time she's left Little Rock since the accident.

So many of you ask what you can do to help. First, give care or concern for my father and family in whatever fits your belief system: prayer, candles, chants, voodoo, whatever. Second, check this site for updates. We can absolutely take phone calls as well, but this will probably be more concise. Third, if you'd like to visit, feel free, but keep in mind that no one is allowed in Dad's room between the hours of 6-8, am and pm. Odds are that if Mom leaves the building, she'll do it then. Of course, if you'd like to go with her to get coffee or dinner, that's also an option.

Once we're a little more comfortable with the groove of this place, I may put together a rotation of people to be here to relieve my mom. She's going to need to spend some time away from here to keep her sanity, but she can't bear to leave unless she knows someone's here to be with him. Keep that in the back of your minds until we get more comfortable with the idea.

I’m heading home to Chicago for a week tomorrow night. I’m not particularly ready to go yet, but Mom’s sending me back to take care of some business. Keep up the hope and faith, because I know we are. We’re still in our slow steady climb, and we are certain that we will get through this with our entire family intact.