Yankee

Casey texted me the other day and asked me what I wanted for "dinner".  Now, as a southern girl I was a little confused.  It was 5 o'clock in the evening.  Then I realized that she meant supper.  I guess she didn't know that we eat dinner around noon and supper is in the evening.  That got me to thinking, she and Heath really need to talk these things out, maybe even see a counselor.  I just think that you should really get important issues like that taken care of so that it doesn't cause major problems in the future.  Can you imagine the chaos it would cause if she called Heath up and was like "Come home for dinner" and then he showed up at noon and there was no food. It would just be mass confusion.  I hate to get all personal with them, but I am the older wiser sister. 
Heath is always giving Casey a hard time about being a "Yankee".  She will tell you right quick she is a MIDWESTERNER! She is from Idaho which is not the North.  Its just north of us.  I heard one of my smart-alec little cousins say they thought if you lived north of Arkansas you were a Yankee.  But now, Casey has something she can rag Heath about.  He is now part Yankee.  Mmmmmhmmmm, you heard it here first.  The skin that was harvested a few weeks ago was grafted today.  The Yankee skin flew here on a plane with an armed escort.  This was serious business.  They wouldn't disclose the exact location that the Yankee skin was grown at, but they did say it was north of here and definitely east of Idaho.  I think I heard them whispering something about Boston.  Now the last time I checked Boston was just about as Yankee as you can get.  I may have even detected a slight accent change already.  I hope we don't have to get a speech therapist to make sure his drawl is safe. 
The Yankee skin was placed on the entire right arm, the back of the left arm, both flanks, and the front and back of both legs. It was then tacked down with hundreds of tiny staples. For the next several days Heath will have to minimize his movements so that the skin won't reject.  We won't know for several days if Heath is a half breed and the skin has taken. The next several days are going to be rough and he is going to be in a lot of pain.  Two surgeries in two days is hard for anyone. 
Skin grafts done with cultured skin are not common.  Growing skin is very tedious and expensive.  The literature that was sent to us described the growing process.  The skin cells are mixed with mouse cells to encourage growth.  Bovine (cow) serum and steroids also feed the cells.  Wow, the jokes I could crack with all this, but I won't for now (I'll just stick to the Yankee jokes).  The cells are brought in on cards.  They are very delicate and fragile and must be brought in by a company representative. The skin has only a few hours that it can be used after it is cracked open.  The doctors and nurses are all so very dedicated to their jobs and I am certain they were as much into this procedure as we were.  The company also sent Heath an autographed picture.  It was pretty cool looking at all those people that grow the Yankee skin that is going to heal Heath.  I think its pretty much a miracle that some skin can be grown in a lab and then begin to grow on a body just like it was always there.  Miracles happen everyday! They may not be as obvious as seeing someone walk on water, but they do happen.  As we go through the next few weeks, I'm convinced we will see one walk out these double doors.

'Til Tomorrow

A boys best friend

We used to have a dog named J.C.  She was an Australian Sheppard that could rival Lassie in her loyalty. She followed Heath around everywhere he went. They did everything together.  I don't know how many times I saw them napping on an old porch swing we used to have.   She was his dog.  You know that dog that when you think back onto your childhood and that's the one that comes to mind.  The one you went fishing with, the one that you shared your lunch with, the dog that was really your friend and not just your pet.  That was J.C.  She was the dog that when she died you cried like you did when you watched Ole Yellar.  Yep that dog.  That's how special she was. 
When Heath was a senior in high school, I was a senior in college.  My parents had just moved into their new house and it was September and the nights were just beginning to get cool.  Football was in the air.  Heath had trained that whole summer for his senior year.  He was on his A game.  During the first away game, he took a late hit to the knee and just like- that his ACL was torn into.  As you can imagine, it was painful.  As painful as knee injuries come.   He finally got home that night  and went to bed.  Our bedrooms were side by side and the night was cool and  nice so mom had the AC off and the windows up.  J.C., who was as smart as they come, knew that something wasn't right with Heath.  I was sound asleep when I awoke to this low moaning sound and then a high pitched sound I couldn't quite make out.  I lay awake listening for the sound and again I heard a moan and then a high pitched noise.  I decided to get up to investigate.  I went into Heaths bedroom and I realized the low moan was Heath.  He was in so much pain from the knee injury he was crying in his sleep.  Then just as I was about to wake him to ask him if he was OK, I heard the howl again.  This sound was coming from outside, underneath Heath's window.  I waited and listened again.  Whenever Heath would cry from the pain, ole J.C. would howl right after he'd cry.  She had been sitting right underneath Heath's bedroom window listening to her old buddy cry.  Heath would moan  and then she would cry.  Her howl was so sad, she understood Heath was hurting and it was breaking her heart.   I just shook my head and went back to bed and fell asleep listening to J.C. cry for her best friend. 

We know how ole J.C. felt.  We watch as Heath has to endure all the pain and we howl.  Not out loud (mainly because they would take us to the crazy floor) but inside in our hearts.  Everything is painful.  Eating, sleeping, and just laying there.  After days like today, whenever that have scraped skin until they find a layer that has been unburned, the pain is at it's highest.  Pain medicine doesn't really do the trick and the only thing you can do is grit your teeth and gut it out. Thankfully these days are getting fewer and fewer, but they aren't getting any easier.  As much mental anguish we have to go through, I cannot imagine what Heath is enduring.  And knowing Heath the way I do, he is probably enduring more than we know because he doesn't want us to worry.   I have been struggling with anger here lately and Lord knows that I don't need anymore than I already have.  I got a letter from a sweet cousin that said she believed that God pick the strong ones to endure things like this.  Then I got a text from a sweet friend that said she believed God chose his best children to endure something like this so that we would all learn how to survive and glorify Him in a situation like this.  Those girls must be right.  We are all watching him, whether from his hospital bed or from this blog, and he is teaching us bravery and courage.  I  would do anything if I could take away his pain for even just a little while, but I will have to settle for just being like J.C. and howling by his bedside.

** Note ... the above dog you see is not J.C.  The only picture I have of her is hanging on Heath's wall at the hospital. So until I can get a pic of J.C., yall can look at Chelsie.  Who is not even Heath's dog, but it was the only pic I had of him with a dog, and I'm so tired that I'm delirious. So just bear with me. 

Til Tomorrow

Now or Sooner

I guess every household has a sort of language of their own. I always thought my parents invented some of the sayings.  They had tons.  One of my favorite lines was: now or sooner.  My Dad loved to say that one.  He loved to tell us to do something and then it tag on at the end.  He loved to make us think we had a choice: You can clean up your room now or sooner.  You can go to bed now or sooner.  Do your homework, now or sooner.   I bet I heard that one a least a thousand times over the years.  I use it on Paige now.  Isn't it funny we all just turn into our old parents.  I guess that isn't so bad in my case. 

I'm pretty sure my parents taught me most things that are essential to becoming a contributing member of society.  But , I must not have been listening when they were lecturing me on patience.  I'm being taught patience now apparently - the lessons not going very well either. I think I have a D so far.  I wish I had a fast forward button. I would fast forward through all the pain, swelling and heartache.  I would fast forward through the restless nights and the fever.  I would fast forward through the days that seem to never end.  I would fast forward through the upset and worries.  Oh dear Lord, I wish I had a fast forward button.  We live in a fast food society.  We are so spoiled to everything being here right now.  If I want a song, I no longer have to go to the store and find the tape at Wal-Mart and then play it and then wait for it to rewind about 30 seconds to hear it again, I can now just push a button and in about 15 seconds- poof... its magically on my computer.  If I want to watch cartoons, I no longer have to wait until Saturday morning and get up at 6 a.m., I can just turn them on 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  If I want anything, now days, I can get it almost instantly. Our bodies haven't caught up with the new technology and we still run on God's time.  We don't heal instantly and we don't get to push a button and make everything OK. Heath is doing great and progressing right along.  Doing better than most.  He is grateful to every nurse, aid, tech, and doctor.  No matter what they do he always thanks them.  When they move him - he is thankful- even though he is in pain.  When they bathe all the dead skin off  EVERY SINGLE DAY - he is thankful.  When they bring him medicine, a sheet or pillow, or simply ask him if he needs anything - he is thankful.  I know that his burns will heal.  I know that the pain will eventually stop, but for me it's not getting here soon enough.   I'm ready for him to come home.  I want the burns to magically heal.  Now or sooner.

The next two days are going to be hard.  Monday is cheese grater day.  Tuesday is skin graft day.  Two surgeries in two days.  Tuesday's surgery is going to be lengthy.  The skin that was harvested several weeks ago is now ready for grafting.  It will be used everywhere there is a third degree burn. After the grafts are laid down, the risk of infection is greater than ever.  He won't be able to get up and walk or do any physical therapy for about 7 days.  He knows its going to be rough but he is facing it just like everything else he's faced - with courage and a thankful  patient attitude................He gets an A. 

But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.    Romans 8:25

P.S. It's my mom's birthday today! Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!!

Front Pockets

Wouldn't it be great to have all the pieces to the puzzle? To know why some things happen? Hindsight is always 20/20.  Some things in life that seem so small can be part of God's bigger plan.  Many years ago, Heath and I attended a concert in Foreman.  Tracy Lawrence, Mark Chestnut, and someone else I just can't remember.  And Foreman is like any other small town that claims a country star, everyone knows him or is kin to him and therefore VIP when at his concert.  Now it just so happens that we really were with some VIP's, so we got to sneak side stage - not back stage just side stage.  We ate somebodies pizza.  Like any other concert that is out in huge pasture, there are hundreds - I might even go as far as to say thousands of people crowded around.  People are bumping into one another, hugging one another, swaying and singing along.  In amidst of all this love and Woodstock-like peace, is a thief.  This man (or woman - I'm not prejudice) snuck behind Heath.  Now back in the day, Heath carried his wallet in his back pocket just like hundreds of other Sarepta boys do.  Mr.(or Ms)Thief had easy access to that back pocket amongst all the love.  What Heath probably thought was a simple "oops my bad sorry I didn't mean to run into the back of ya" was probably the pick.  His wallet was gone like that.  Now, this small act set into motion a chain of events that can't be explained until now.  From that day forward, Heath carried his wallet in his front left pocket. Even on that horrible night in August.  

Now fast forward 8 years later, and Heath is burned over 85% of his body.  Not much skin was spared.  We need skin! Skin that will go on the underside of his arms, a place where cultured skin won't take very well.  But wait, there is a place - a place that was so well protected -protected by a leather wallet directly under his left pocket  That is where skin was harvested yesterday. It was then grafted to the underside of his arm. 

If Heath hadn't had his pocket picked so many years ago, he would probably still be wearing his wallet in his back pocket (which is uncomfortable to sit on) and therefore taken out and left in his truck.  He wouldn't have had that place to donate skin from.  He wouldn't be one step closer to be coming home.  So, I'd like to thank that crook for picking my little brothers pocket that night in Foreman, you were part of a plan that none of us knew about. Until now. 

Til Tommorow!

Battle Scars

Scars are cool.  Chicks dig 'em.  Behind any scar there is a story.  I have a monstrous 3 centimeter scar below my right knee, just where the cartilage is.  When I was 5 years old I had a fascination with toothpicks, and I wasn't allowed to have them.  But I was a ninja stealth on getting a toothpick quietly and cat-like from the top of the counter or even the top of the fridgerator.  The brilliant child that I was decided to play "break the toothpicks in half and stick them in the couch cushions" game.  You know, so you couldn't see them.  After 5 minutes go by and my attention span has moved onto the "let's pull the same couch cushions off that have little toothpicks embedded into them onto the floor and jump knees first on them" game.  Yep, you guessed it, a toothpick went right through the knee.  I had my first and only trip to the ER that night so they could "surgerize" that toothpick right out.  I think I may have gotten 2 stitches, but I was the only kid in Kindergarten with stitches in her knee and a story to tell.  In Kindergarten that is ROCK STAR status.

Tonight, Heath got a visit from a man with some scars and a story.  Scotty, a fellow burn survivor, came to share his story with Heath.  He had the same room as Heath, laid in the same bed, and had the same worries and fears that Heath has.  When we say to someone "I know how you feel" - unless you have been there we don't know! Scotty has been there and he knows. His words and testimony to Heath were exactly what we all needed.  I watched as Scotty told his story of his accident and then his story of survival.  The fact is that not me, my mom, my dad, or even Casey can help Heath like Scotty can and did and will continue to do.  We do not know what hes thinking.  We can guess and sometimes we may even get close. He can tell us but we will never fully understand.  Scotty gets it.  Scotty was burned 86% of his body and even sustained internal burns.  He aspirated liquid and got very sick and went "out" as he likes to say in early December.  He was put on a vent for 23 days and when he woke up he couldn't understand why they had taken down the Christmas decorations.  He thought he had been out for a day, maybe 2.  His scars are on his legs mostly.  He calls them battle scars.  He loves to wear shorts so people can ask him and he can share his story.  This man is a motivator.  He wasn't trained in school to speak, he was born to do it.  He has a passion and a drive to help other burn survivors.  His life is dedicated to that cause.  He said to Heath, "I have been right where you are brother.  The only difference between me and you is that my hair was longer and you're better looking than me.  The only thing that separates us is one and a half feet."  He was there to tell Heath it was going to be OK, but he did something better, he showed him. He told Heath that in a very short while he would be sitting where Scotty was telling another family his own story, helping them.  Life is so short and sometimes it takes something so horrible for us to realize that.  Scotty told Heath that he may not be able to see it right now, but this would be the best thing that has ever happened to him.  He now knows the secret to life.  He knows that all things happen for a reason and that we can't take a day for granted.  He knows to always hug your wife and kiss your kids and tell them everyday what they mean to you.  He knows that because the night before he was burned Scotty and his wife got into an argument about how tall their Christmas tree should be.  He got mad and dragged the tree into the house scraping the ceiling and went to bed without making up and then left for work the next morning without saying goodbye or I love you.  The next time he saw his wife he was looking up at her from his hospital bed.  He said that they have painted the ceiling in their house but left that scar on the ceiling to never forget.  Scotty will be our friend for life.  He will be Heath's brother, his burn brother.  He will be able to help when we can't.  Scotty loves the doctors and nurses here.  He's sort of a Rock Star.  He comes in and they all want to talk to him.  He is in a category by himself. 
As I watched Heath take in all of what Scotty had to say, I saw him grow to understand that he wasn't alone and that he had an ally.  Tears of understanding rolled down his face and everyone else's that was in that room. As he ended his visit with Heath, he told him words that will be burned into my brain forever, "Heath, you may not know it, but you have won the war.  You may to fight some battles, but you already won - brother.  That fire tried to whoop your butt but you got up.  You got blowed up and you are still with us, you won."

I hope that none of you ever have to experience the hell that Heath and my family are going through, but I wish that everyone could feel the sweetness and utter joy that comes with it.  The other side of tragedy is so awesome and without this I would be going about my uneventful normal life.  Our lives are changed forever, but not for the worse, only for the better. 

Til Tomorrow!

I saw God today

Colby is our cousin.  His dad and my mom are brother and sister.  ColbyLou (that's what we call him) has been at the hospital each and every day.  He was the first one at the hospital waiting on us that first horrible day.  He waits quietly in the hall at night as Casey and Heath spend the last few minutes together and then walks her to her truck.  Its nothing that we've asked him to do - he just does it.  He looks up to Heath.  He always has.  Heath has been sort of a hero to Colby.  When your hero hurts, you hurt.  Colby also possesses a strong family trait.  The "passing out" gene.  When he sees blood, thinks about blood, or hears blood he will pass out.  When he was a little kid, he was taking care of business - the kind that requires the bathroom- and he was playing with a paper clip.  A paper clip he wasn't supposed to have.  As he was playing with it, he somehow stuck it underneath his fingernail.  It went it just far enough underneath there to hurt and draw some blood.  Now, remember he's in the bathroom, with the door locked.  After hearing a THUD my grandmother rushes to the door and finds it locked.  She finally gets the door unlocked and finds a naked little boy that has fallen off the commode and hit his head. Why do little boys have to use the bathroom naked? It's a mystery to me. Anyway, apparently he had seen the tiny bit of blood from underneath his fingernail and passed smooth out, hitting his head on the way down.  Of course he gets it honest.  Our grandfather (Henry P) is the worst passer outer there is.  The best story is the knife story.  My grandmother was holding something between her hands and Henry P was going to cut it.  Well, they got to arguing about which way to cut whatever it was they were cutting and the knife slipped and he cut my Mawmaw pretty deep.  Blood was going everywhere and they decided she needed stitches.  She wraps a towel around her bleeding arm and they jump into the car and speed off towards the emergency room.  As they were driving, Henry P starts to feel FAINT from the sight of her bleeding arm - the arm he cut.  He has to pull over and let her drive herself to the ER, while he put the air conditioner on high and tried not to pass out. 

Blood doesn't bother me and it apparently doesn't bother many people in this area.  Life Share came back to this area for a second time this week for a replenishment drive for Heath. The doors weren't even opened at 4 o'clock and there were 10 people lined up to have a needle stuck into their arm and blood sucked out- voluntarily.  At one point 25 people were waiting in line. Men, women, old, and young were there. Horse trailers and big trucks lined the parking lot.  All of these people took time from their busy lives and came to do a very inconvenient thing.  Giving a part of yourself is not easy and all these people did it willingly.  The fact that blood is our life source and flows from our heart is so symbolic to me.  This is a gift from the heart.  Not only does this help Heath, but it will help others in need of this precious substance. The people there were not only helping Heath, they were glorifying God. God has been so close to this whole situation, he even came to the blood drive today.  I watched as He led 50 + people to give this precious gift to Heath.  The fact is our prayers are being answered every single day.  Heath has been burned everywhere except his neck, groin and ankles.  And most of those burns are 3rd degree burns.  Almost all 3rd degree burns need skin grafts.  But each time they evaluate to see what needs to be grafted it gets less and less! Skin is growing!!! The doctors are amazed at his progress.  We know what has carried him through out this whole ordeal.  Heath is doing things sooner than they have expected because of the extent of his burns.  How can a man be able to walk and talk and laugh after being burned so thoroughly? Today, we found out that the cultured skin that has been growing for about 3 weeks is so abundant that they have more than enough to cover his arms.  They were worried that they would barely even have enough. Doctors, nurses and therapists are amazed.  We have a list of "thank you Gods" since the very beginning.  Nothing - I mean nothing- has been a coincidence.  It's been God's hand and His will that has taken us this far.  God has sent everyone at the perfect time.  He knew what we needed before we did.  From the minute this happened people have been praying.  I am watching a miracle unfold before my eyes.  The doctors told us from day one the best thing that Heath had going for him was that he was young and healthy.  I hate to say Dr. Sittig is wrong about anything, but that is the second best thing Heath has going for him.   I saw God today.  He sat beside a lady in a chair who didn't know Heath, and really didn't know us and watched her as she gave blood which was exactly what He led her to do. Ya'll are so precious to me.  Ya'll are so precious to Heath.  He knows every effort that is being done on his behalf.  Every single time we tell him all tears flow freely down his face - tears of joy and emotion.

* A very special to Linda Lynd & LeAnn Hernsberger who organized the Springhill Blood Drive and also Kaycee Nehls who coordinated the Sarepta one.  If you see these ladies give them a great big hug! Thank you girls! We love you!*

'Til Tomorrow

Small Towns

*photograph by the beautiful Mandy Morgan*

Remember when Sarepta got the red light? It was the highlight of our week.  We didn't have much going on so we decided to go entertain ourselves.  We loaded up a few friends and sat in the back of Jeremy's truck and watched people run the redlight or come to a screeching halt.  The screechers were the funniest. The look of horror when they realized there was a red light there was just priceless.  I bet we watched people for hours.We laughed til Bo Allen made us leave.  Isn't small town life great?  I love to tell people how small of a town this is.  I love to tell them we have a post office, one convenience store, and one red light. 
Hours after Heath was burned people were asking : What can we do to help.  At that point we didn't even know ourselves.  Pray - just pray was our number one request.  Sometimes we feel like we need to do more than pray.  People want to help out.  When you live in a small town, the community feels as though there is a need to take care of each other.  When I tell you that people have overwhelmed us with good deeds and showered us with love - I am understating.  Tell me where else in this world would you find a school full of small children wearing maroon yarn bracelets : one loop for Heath and one loop for the Hornets.  Football games have been dedicated with full out themes : Play Hard, Pray Hard.  I have seen grown men wearing red wrist bracelets that read Team Heath.  I have seen a waiting room with so many people the halls are overflowing with them.  I have seen food - boy have I seen food.  We have had so much food that we were worried whenever Heath woke up he would think we were the Widettes.  (for all you youngsters google Widettes - SNL) I have seen campers set up and fully furnished for our use.  People have called and asked if they could do fundraisers - anything from ropings to softball tournaments.  People have given and given and then given more.  We will never be able to repay all the love and kindness that has been bestowed upon us.  Small town people are good.  This community and the surrounding communities have blessed us beyond measure.  And whether you put one dollar in a jar, said one prayer, or bought one fish plate, we thank you all the same.  You have been praying and God has been listening.  The Blood Drive Saturday surpassed even what Life Share had expected.  And tonight : when I pulled up and saw the line of people picking up fish plates - well it was my turn to cry.  I saw all Heath's coworkers, their wives and even their children working the line.  It touched my heart to see these men who love Heath so much finally getting to do something for Heath.  People- let me tell you- if you ever doubt how good this town is or what kind of people this community has please call me. On behalf of my entire family - we thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

Now on a lighter note- Mr. Foley has left the building! That's right people- the catheter came out today! If you've ever had a catheter you know what has to happen next. They gave him til 8 o'clock for it to happen.  During the middle of a conversation about scab picking, Heath told us it was time.  "OK Buddy! Good Luck!" we all yelled! We went out into the hallway to anxiously wait.  We tried to kill time by making idle conversations, but we all had our mind on Heath.  I can't even remember what we talked about.  Suddenly Nurse Kim calls for backup.  Nurse Ryan rushes in.  We all look nervously at each other and continue to wait.  The minutes pass slowly.  We begin to sweat.  My mother sits in a rocking chair and rocks silently back and forth with a furrowed brow.  I think I may have heard her humming Amazing Grace but I'm not sure.  I look at my watch again- 5 more minutes have passed by. I curse and if there had been a cigarette there and it had been 1950 when smoking was allowed in hospitals, I would have smoked.  Colby starts to cry a little. "What could be taking this long?", he cries.  Casey stares that silent stare.  She's worried, I can tell.  My father stands by the door straining to hear anything! Then just as we were about to call in reinforcements, the door swings open and Nurse Ryan proclaims "Its here.  Victory!! He peed!".   The cheering was deafening and nurses were slapping each other on the back and shaking hands.Casey and I high fived. Colby sat down and wiped his eyes.  My mother looked toward Heaven and mouthed a silent "Thank you Lord".    As I looked at my father a single tear streamed down his face and I knew it was one of the proudest moments of his life.
*the above story may have been dramatized for comical purposes*

Heath is going to kill me for that one but I couldn't make ya'll cry again today. And on a more truthful note: The feeding tube is out too.(no fancy story)  He is one step closer to getting out of ICU!    

Til Tomorrow!

The kind of man

He could still feel her kiss on his lips. As he ran through the fire, he could only hear Casey's last whispered words to him- Be Careful. As he finally got away from the engulfment of flames he ran towards what he knew was woods. The fire was still burning- he could feel it. Putting it out was the only option. The only resemblence of a shirt was the collar left around his neck. The fire had burned it before devouring the skin below. His jeans were now mere ashes. His leather belt left what now looked like a tattoo of unburned skin around his waist. The spurs on the back of his boots made a clang clang sound with each step he took. His breathing was heavy and labored. He ran into the night as fast as his legs would carry him. As he ran her words echoed in his mind and a little round face with a toothless smile filled his eyes. He had to keep going. He couldn't stop, not until he got to that house. The cool air all around him was no comfort for his charred body. The house he was looking for finally came into view. As he approached the house he began to scream for help. No one looks out a window, no one yells back. Barking dogs greeted a scantily clothed stranger as he walked onto the carport. "Mrs. Melba please help me! I been burned! Call 911! " he calls out as he kicks on the door. Someone yells from the inside "Do I need to call 911?" "Yes! Please." As she opens the door and sees this scared, burned man, her heart skips a beat. She hurries to call for help and then back to the hurt man on her carport. She asks him who she can call for him and he tells her his Daddy and gives her the phone number. He asks for water and she helps him drink the cold, quinching liquid. As they sit there waiting for help to arrive, he apologizes for at least the third time for waking her up. She chastises, "Heath! Stop apologizing!". As the precious minutes pass, he realizes that his injuries are life threatening. He looks at his guardian angel and says, " If I don't make it please tell my little boy, Gunner, that I love him." She looks at him in awe and promises that she will. The ambulance roars into the drive with sirens blaring and lights flashing. As they open up the back doors and prepare to get a patient up off the ground onto a stretcher, they watch in amazement as he gets up and WALKS into the ambulence. They race away into the chilly evening and he begins his journey.

Heath's incentive to get to that house that night was a little boy that he still had to teach to read. He still had to take him to Disney World. He had to watch him play his first pee wee football game. He had to teach him how to drive and comfort him when that first girl breaks his heart. There are so many reasons to live. He couldn't leave, he had to stay. He had to tell him that he loved him one more time and feel his arms around his neck.

Melba didn't have to keep her promise that she made to Heath that night . She didn't have to tell Gunner that his Daddy loved him. Heath got to do that - And tonight, he did it face to face and heart to heart. On day 30 Heath laid his eyes on that little boy that loves cars, monster trucks, and his new bicycle. Gunner got to put his arms around his daddy and warm his heart.

Gunner - Never doubt how much your daddy loves you. I hope that one day you will read this and know exactly what kind of man your daddy is. He's the kind of man everyone wants on their team. He's the kind of man that people will call when they need help and he will go in a heartbeat. He's the kind of man that will honor promises. He's the kind of man that people will line up to give blood for. He's the kind of man that will walk through fire to be with you.

'Til Tommorow

Chili dog dinner night

I have been watching Heath throw up for 25 years. He threw up so much it was no big deal for us. We'd be eating at the dinner table and some bread would get stuck in the roof of his mouth and he'd just throw up right in his plate of Chili Dogs. It was so routine that me and Daddy didn't even move- we just turned our head and kept on eating. Mom would fix him another plate and after he went and washed his face we would just go about our dinner conversation. Everything made him throw up : roast, bread, the smell of McDonalds, or riding in a car. I have seen my mother, while driving, catch puke in her hands and manage to keep it between the ditches. She's talented. She has cleaned up more throw up than any school room janitor with cedar chips. Gagging was a regular occurrence. I have seen the boy think about something nasty and then throw up just from the mere thought. At the height of the throw up years, Heath would "claim" that a shirt touching the back of his neck was the cause of on embarrassing throw up episode. It was just adikalus! (Adikalus- a "Paigism" and another word for ridiculous.)

Something being forced down anyone's throat is awful, but for Heath it was his worst nightmare coming true. He was intubated for 13 horrifying days. The vent tube was a life line. It helped him breathe and kept an airway open for any disasters that might happen. Most of the time you are unconscious when you tubed. General surgery is what you think of whenever you are tubed- short periods of time. Not 13 days! Whenever you already have a gagging problem and then you wake up with something down your throat - terror and confusion sets in. The tube is forced from your mouth all the way down to your bifurcation of your lungs. It passes by the vocal cords and has a bulb inflated so that it can't be pulled out easily. Heath fought the tube. The nurses had to finally restrain his hands. His every motion, thought and lipped word was a attempt to get that tube out. Every breath was always his own. The Evil Machine was there just in case. Pushing the wonderful life sustaining oxygen deep into his lungs. Each passing day he was increasingly aware if his situation. The panic that was on his face is burned into my mind forever. Finally after some of the swelling had decreased he was finally able to communicate with more than a head nod. His eyes were open and his lips moved furiously. What was he saying? What does he want? I could read every word. Help me. Those were the first words I could read. Help me. Help me. Help me. He was begging and pleading for help. I think I actually felt my heart shatter. I know what was going through his mind. Then he said it and I read his lips - "I'm choking." I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help him at all. All I could do was tell him that it will be OK . It was going to be fine. I kept telling him that it would be out soon. It had to be. Watching his hands go as far as they would go towards his face, was agony. We knew he was motioning for us to pull that tube out. He kept mouthing he needed to get up. In his mind he would be OK if he could just get up and get the tube out. Every visit, every hour, every conversation for 13 solid days was about how soon we would get that tube out. Sometimes he would ask- when. Sometimes he would ask- why were they doing this to me. After a few days he was mad, upset and just plain pissed off. Big Daddy and his fellow nurses earned their money that week. They had to continually had to put his legs back on the bed and tell him to stop kicking or beating on the side of the bed. Then there would be times of shear exhaustion and frustration - and then you could see him sobbing. My mother leaned to his ear and said "I know baby, I wouldn't let them keep that tube in your throat any longer than it has to. Keep fighting. Please don't give up now, we've come to far". Any mother that has to watch her child in shear agony experiences it for herself also. Those were the 13 longest days of her life. Those were the 13 longest days of Heath's life.

Every time we talked to a doctor we asked when, when, when. They would always say soon, maybe tomorrow. Finally on day 13, tomorrow finally came. When the nurse came through the door and casually said "Hey yall wanna see him? Its out" , I thought Dad and I would trip each other getting back there. It was better than Christmas morning. His voice was raspy and his voice was low, but it was his voice. He knew who we were and even asked how we were.

Fortunately Heath doesn't remember those 13 days on the vent. They are forever in my mind, and forever in my memory.

Til Tomorrow!

Yo Adrian!

I went to Wal-Mart today without whooping a kid. Of course, she wasn't with me. Jeremy had been smuggling bootleg toilet paper into our house for about a week and we were chaffing so Charmain had to come back to the Timmons residence. I'd been dreading this trip. It only cost me $100, an hour and a half of my time and a bucket of tears. I don't think I've ever cried so much in a Wal-Mart. I just couldn't stand there and let these people cry alone. It's unsouthern to have someone in your presence crying and you don't even shed a tear, so I cried right along with them when they asked about Heath, or told me how sorry they were. I can't tell you how many stories that I hear like : He used to wave at me every morning or He would grin big every time I saw him at the store. Everyone feels that human connection. That thing that makes us all feel like a big family. Everyone loves to see those big white Chiclet teeth shining into a big warm smile. Everyone is ready to see that smile.

Whenever anyone asks how he is doing, I'm cautioned about answering. I try not to blow sunshine and make things seem like they are wonderful. I don't want to take away from the progress that he's made and make it sound like he is doing terrible. So I mostly say - "He's holding his own." The nurses and doctors are impressed by his progress and his strong will. Burnies (I just made up that term - its not technical or anything) are so slow to recover. Some days are a carbon copy of the day before. They will have the same pain, the same fever, the same aches for 2-3 days at a time. And then the next day you will finally see progress. You know it's eventually going to happen but its going to take some time. What we are waiting on is nature. We are waiting for skin to grow. It's slow and tedious. Precious skin that Heath doesn't have right now. When it does grow, we will take this precious skin and use it as donor sites for grafting.

Progress does happen, just take today for instance on day 23 in the Burn ICU. Cue the Rocky Theme... no really start humming it in your head. Therapy has started. Shannon (the awesomest OT)- So you think you want to walk today? Heath - Yeah Hell Yeah . Heath swings his legs slowly and painfully off the side of the bed. He steadies himself to a standing position and walks to the door. It feels good to put two feet on the floor. As they make it to the doorway, he decides he can go a little further - to the nurses station. One by one he takes slow, painful, wonderful steps. Shannon and Big Daddy are beaming like two proud parents. He turns to make the journey back to the bed. Daddy can't hold the tears back any longer. It must be better than watching him walk for the first time 26 years ago. Casey and Jeremy hold each other up and enjoy one of the sweetest moments we have had in a long time. The walk is only 10 feet but the accomplishment is that of running a marathon. Just like that terrible, horrible morning when God was there guiding him through the fire - He was here today guiding his first steps to recovery. The road to recovery is long, slow and painful. Every little thing is going to be a fight and a struggle. And he may not win the first time. Endurance is the key. Stamina and strength will win out.

Just remember- Rocky didn't win that first fight, but he got up and he fought again.

'Til Tomorrow

One step down...many to go

Some of you might not know it, but I'm kind of the black sheep of the family. I don't know a thing about horses. I don't know the difference between a lead rope and a saddle horn. I don't rope or ride. I don't eat mayonnaise or even drink sweet tea. I know - you should probably sit down after that one. I'm just different. But I'm OK with it. Now the other people in the family are all ropers, riders- cowboy lovers. Heath really loves cowboys. Heath really loves one cowgirl.

Casey...... doesn't her name just roll off your tongue? Dear sweet Casey. She said her dad really thought her name was spelled KC for a long time. I think he thought it was short for Kickin' Cows or something like that.

She came all the way from Idaho to find Heath. That's what he tells her and everyone else that will listen. Since the first time I saw them grinning at each other like two possums eating grapes, I knew that they were in love. Icky, sweet, slobbery love. And I couldn't be more happy. She has been a bright spot in our lives.

Her role in Heath's recovery is vital and essential. On day 6 he opened his eyes and found she was there. He later told me he dreamed that she had left. But she hasn't left. She stays by his side as long as the nurses will let her. She is there when he wakes and she is the last thing he sees when he shuts his eyes for the night. She is the calm in his storm. I've watched her look at him as he fights the fever and pain. She's wishing she could make it better for him. It kills her to see him in agony. When the pain subsides for a few moments and he wakes from a nap - he beams and says " Hey Babydoll!". I'm sure her heart melts all over again.

Today was a victory. After 22 days in Burn ICU, Heath stood and took his first step. It was glorious, courageous, and painful. One day soon he will walk out of the Burn ICU. His journey is just beginning and I will be cheering him on the whole way.

'Til Tomorrow

Crying Steel Toe Boots

During the first week, we had so many visitors. We had security called on us a couple of times. LSU police had to come and tell us to clear the halls. Bunch of dudes in steel toe boots and tear stained faces wandering the halls at LSU hospital is a very scary sight to some people. I can't stand to see men in steel toe boots cry. It is like a reflex, I just cry right along with them. All those boys that Heath worked with, went to high school with, rode the back roads with - they were all there. They were terrified - right along with us. They all had a memory in their mind of Heath that they were hanging onto. Maybe it was that big grin or that song they drank a cold one to, or maybe the football game that they won. It was all over their sweet, sad faces. I could barely look at them without crying. My memory was from my wedding reception when I decided that people weren't enjoying "Mustang Sally" enough, so I decided to jump up on the stage and "sang"it. After a few lines, Heath decided I shouldn't be alone in embarrassing myself and climbed up there with me. A strategic music stand hides my face in the picture above which I'm sure looks similar to Heath's - so I owe a big fat thank you to that music stand. Hang onto those memories - it's going to get you to the day when we can make more.

The people that visited were friends, extended family, and some strangers. The strangers that came to comfort us already had a bond to us. Burn survivors. Burn survivors... did you hear me? These were people that had went through what Heath was going through and was sitting here talking to us and they were OK. They were beautiful. They were strong. They were survivors. Their stories will make grown men with stone hearts cry. Three families visited us and shared their awesome stories.

One man had everything go wrong that could - but he walked out of that burn unit. After being burned over 70% of his body, he missed his helicopter to LSU, then on day 2 had a heart attack. Then a blood clot threatened the health of his leg. His wife had signed papers to amputate, then God stepped in and decided he needed both legs. As he and his wife described the trauma and devastation that they had been through, I watched my parents finally breathe a sigh of relief. They hadn't been breathing for 5 days. The tears they were crying now were that of relief and joy. They knew it would be OK. The fear loosened its grip on them and we thanked Billy with a big bear hug.

Vanessa, a beautiful woman and southern belle, had been involved in a plane crash. The small plane crashed into a wooded area and she and 3 others walked through woods, with briar's tearing at her burned flesh, and climbed fences to find a highway. A passing truck stopped and she climbed into the bed of the pickup and was carried to a hospital.

Scotty was a welder that was burned at a compressor station. He aspirated the "drip" and had severe internal burns. The doctors could not keep their hands in his "guts" to assess the damage because the heat was so intense. That day he was there to give the doctors a hat and shoes -as a souvenir from a trip he had been on. He's family to them. He said they saved his life and he is forever grateful.

These beautiful people are in a club - the burn survivors club. And without ever meeting Heath to see if he qualified to be in the club, he was accepted as the newest member. He is going to hurt and we are going to have to watch, but he is going to survive and be stronger than ever. After the tube came out and he could finally talk, he said to me "A, the doctors said if I worked hard and worked with them I will be 100% of the man I was before" and I looked him in the eye and said "Nope, Heaf, you're gonna be 150% of the man you used to be. You'll be a better man because you survived this".

Til Tomorrow!

Cheese Graters

As we go on 21 days in the ICU, we have become buds with most of the nurses. Some of them have not come to love us - yet. Big Daddy is Heath's favorite. We'll talk about him later. He's the only man I think that could give Casey a run for her money. Day to day life in ICU is always different. One day you hear one thing and the next day it is totally different. Yesterday we thought we may be getting that feeding tube out but today - for now at least- it's still there. It's there to supply high protein yellow goo into Heath's tummy. He can eat anything he wants but this goo supplies the calories needed until his full appetite is back. He said the goo tasted like Orangey-salty snot. Mmmmm... give me some of that please ! Nurses have a funny sense of humor - they usually come in with the bag of orangeysalty-snot with a big ole grin on their face yellin' "It's feeding time!". Weirdos.

Speaking of nurses- Have you ever seen a nurse wash a newborn for the first time? Did you think - dang that nurse must hate that baby.

Now imagine that you're sunburned. This is the worst sunburn you have ever had, and its everywhere - back, head, face, legs, arms, hands, ears under your arms, backside of your legs - everywhere except your feet, groin area, and neck. Now - imagine babyhater is wielding a cheese grater. That is what a full dressing change is like. The pain is so intense that just laying there is almost unbearable. Breathing is now painful. Sheets are too heavy. A pat on the arm is too painful. Talking uses too much energy. Comfort is not found. Thank goodness for good nurses and good doctors and good ole morphine. It works fast and it can be given intravenously which means its almost instant. I, myself, can tolerate pain- for at least 5-10 seconds. I believe in pain medicine. You want to know why God gave us pain- so we could ask for pain medicine. Pain medicine = good. God also knows how much we can handle and never gives us more than we can bear. He must think a lot of Heath. Morphine does something strange to Heath. It causes him to float. He asks us to make sure he doesn't float away. We put our hands on his shoulders an make sure that doesn't happen. As the morphine drowsiness begins to take its toll we hear a mumbled, "Thank ya'll, thank ya'll".

Vince Lombardi once said " The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will". Well I believe that Heath has the will.

Til Tomorrow!

Booters

I decided that since sometimes facebook only allows a mere 420 characters on a status update and I have a ton more to say I would try to blog about Heath's recovery. I will try to blog the good and the bad. It's going to be hard. Telling someone that pain is going to be inevitable is so hard. When you see someone hurt - someone that you love - it's agonizing. I'm gonna try to blog with a little humor mixed in so that maybe I will laugh through the tears. Lord knows I have shed the tears. I will sometimes have to give ya'll a vocabulary lesson so that you will be able to understand these posts. Just for example : booter - another name for behind, butt, booty. So when I say "Heath was burned on his booter", you will understand what I mean. Usually these slang term came from our kids, but sadly some were coined by full blown adults. Just in case you are wondering Paige came up with booter on her own.

So back to Heath- today is a full dressing change under general anesthesia. What the wonderful doctors and nurses do is go in and unwrap all of Heath's bandages and take off all the dressings underneath. Just to give you a visual - he sorta looks like Michelin Man wrapped from chest down to his legs. After they get him unwrapped, they look at the 3rd degree burns to make sure no infection has set in and then check to see that the 2nd degree burns are healing up nicely. What they do at this point makes my stomach do a little flip - they "scrub" - (their word not mine) all the dead skin off so that new skin can start to grow. Today they will also evaluate the hands and make sure that skin grafts are taking. I think they are also going to make sure he doesn't have any bottlecaps in his hands too. This is a frequent question asked to us by Heath, for some reason he is convinced he is holding bottlecaps. We don't want to lie to the boy so we are going to get on that little mystery. After this little ordeal, comes the pain and fever. We just sit by him and assure him it will pass. Then, we pray that it will.

Til Tomorrow!