Humpty Dumpty Day

…..And all the King’s horses and all the King’s men skillfully put Humpty Dumpty together again!

If relief was an emotion you that could reach out and touch then I just gave it a bear hug and it feels damn good.  For over two months Darryl has been crossing each day off his calendar leading up to this day.  Tonight, sitting beside him in hospital I am filled with joy to see him exploring his new Humpty Dumpty skull with his hand.

He’s as happy as pig in mud as they say and in that, the tears of fear and anxiety I have been fighting off all day can now trickle down my cheeks with a degree of pride and comfort which is a lot nicer.  I am so relieved to have got to this point, we all are.

Darryl started the day with absolute excitement which was probably a good thing because I started it with 300 butterflies roaring around in my stomach along with what now seems like irrational fears washing over me like a uneasy sea.  We did his usual routine this morning, including a good gym session and then hoped into the car and drove to the hospital.  When I say hospital, it wasn’t Auckland, it was Ascot Hospital.

The reason I say this, is because we walked into this hospital to have a repair as part of his ever improving recovery.  A good feeling.  A great feeling actually.  He entered Auckland Hospital via the helicopter pad, deep in a coma, probably a hand full of minutes from death with survival the only item on the agenda.  A feeling of fear that is second to none.  A feeling of helplessness that corrodes you from the inside out.

In any event by 3 pm Darryl had seen the medical team including his surgeon, Andrew Law who completed his briefing by getting Darryl to sign his consent for surgery.  This was a significant moment and carried a lot more meaning than just a signature.  Shortly after, Darryl was wheeled off to theatre off in tears, happy ones and no doubt mixed with relief as well.  It’s funny how from that point on the hands on my watch seemed to get increasingly slower, particularly when we were waiting in his room and at 6.30 pm he was still in surgery.  The relief came however shortly after when Andrew Law rang to let me know the surgery went well and he was very pleased with the result, all sealed with a good old thumbs up from Darryl.

Remember of course that some 167 days ago Mr. Law was raking his fist across Darryl’s sternum trying to illicit the same thumbs up that he did today, but back then it was to determine his fate rather than to confirm his good health.   What a journey it’s been!

Darryl, in some ways today has brought more than just closure to your skull.  It closes the door on the first chapter of a life which was so nearly snatched from you, but which you have begun to rebuild piece by painstaking piece.  So much has happened in the five months or so since D-Day, most of which I am thankful beyond words you will never remember.

I hope that over the coming days and weeks your sense of ‘you’ begins to return as your brain begins to live in its normal state once more.

I hope that when you look in the mirror you recognise the ‘you’ looking back once again.

I hope that as the days and weeks pass the new life you have fought so hard for rewards you equally with fulfillment.

I hope that as each new day dawns you feel a little closer toward the goals you continue to have and set.

I hope that as the new forest grows from the ashes of the old that a sense true and unbridled possibility grows alongside it

I hope that for every stone you have moved as you have shifted this mountain that life shines on you and all that you bring it.

I hope Darryl, that your life gives back to you what I (and all of us) have been so blessed to have, in sharing it with you.

…..I’m enjoying these tears mate.   Finally.

Love you.

Dad