From Daniel on Monday

Sarah's note:
Andy drama ahead. Be prepared.

I'm convinced that updates should come with some kind of color-coded warning system...blue for "general news", white for "medical or emotional craziness" and red for "sit down and have tissues standing by".

Might have to work on that...in the meantime...this would be a CODE RED.
I'm jus' sayin'.

Sarah

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From Larry:

This is Daniel's latest update from Florida (9/3). He sends it to us and then ask that we forward it to those in our address book. So, this is information right from the scene in Florida. We are going to make every effort to forward these updates as near to the time that we receive them as we possibly can.
Love to all.
Larry
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Hi,
Hope you guys are OK.
Monday was not a good day. Of course, it was a holiday and the place was a ghost town. That means none of the regular therapies had to be attended. With the excessive amount of free time the brothers Burnett fell victim to a common affliction known as boar-dumb. There was plenty of things that we could have done but we just didn't want to.

A tough ole nurse told me and Andy that he had to get up and around and she wouldn't hear of anything else, so we got him loaded and we rolled out. There is a coffee shop cafe type place on our wing that always has something going on during the day and after some debate we decided to drop in. There was a Marine and some of his family that we met shortly after our arrival watching some TV and eating a snack.

We all exchanged pleasantries and made small talk when Andy mentioned that Elma (the nurse) had kicked us out. Jason (the Marine) knew exactly who we were talking about. He had her in the past and he said, "She kicked me out of bed more than once." I think soldiers fear only one thing and that is tough old nurses. :)

Andy was of the opinion that he may have gotten the boot from his bed but he was still going to take a nap. So he reclined his chair and dozed for about two hours. Jason and his family left and a few others came and went but we outlasted them all.

Apparently Andy's dinner bell still works and as it got time to eat he rousted a bit and expressed a real interest in some leftover pizza. So I left to go get it. It was a short trip and I was back in a few minutes. I then went to go get something to drink. As I left the room he was setting his chair up right and starting to roll over to the table.

Again I was gone maybe 2 minuets and when I got back Andy was hanging out of the side of his wheelchair. his head was back, his skin was ghost white and his breathing was shallow and ragged. The drinks were forgotten and I covered the distance across the room in one stride. I righted him in his chair, got in his face to see if he could tell me what was going on. As I spoke to him there was no response, his eyes didn't even twitch, and there was a distant look to them.

At that point I was scared and I hit the door at a dead run and was at the nurses station in a few seconds. The alarm was raised and help got there almost instantly. Within fifteen minuets after I had walked in to see him like that he was resting comfortably in his bed. After a few minutes of rather frenzied information exchange, I found out that his blood pressure had tanked because he lowered his feet so abruptly (the chair is motorized) and he passed out. Because of the constraints of the chair and the way he slumped it was making it difficult to breath but not impossible.

Andy recovered from that event far more quickly than I did. As I've thought about it, I think it had as much to do with the suddenness of it all as the actual condition that I found him in. I just went for some Sunny D and everything went wrong.

For the rest of the afternoon I was consumed with a sence of frustration fear and concern. Questions like what if this happens again? What if I'm not there next time. What if no one is there? How can I sleep at night, how can I ever leave him alone again? Will this ever end? Can this get better? With these questions a deep sense of dread crept over me. I did the best I could to tuck it away so Andy couldn't see it but I don't know how successful I was. That night as I drug myself up the steps to my room I felt defeated, as though hope had abandoned me.

In need of consolation I called Leslie. After regailing her with all the minute details of what happened and venting my frustration, something wonderful begin to happen. She began to remind me of Gods promises--that He will never leave us nor forsake us that we are never given more than what we can stand that we have his strength and it is always sufficient to get us through the day. As I rehearsed those promises in my own mind the stress and trauma of the day was driven back and a peace that passes all understanding filled my heart. As I drifted off to sleep, I was content in the knowledge that God had once again met our daily needs and that what ever happens, God is in control.

--Daniel