Drew Strong(er) #3 — Highs and Lows

In a previous post, I discussed the theme of the 2000 movie, Cast Away, in which Tom Hanks plays Chuck Noland, a FedEx executive, who survives a plane crash and becomes stranded on a deserted island. After four years on the island, some trash washes up on the shore one day that he is able to use to construct a sail for a raft, and (spoiler alert) he is ultimately rescued by a passing ship and he returns home to Memphis, Tennessee. After being rescued, Chuck Noland returns home to find that life has essentially moved on without him. His family and friends continued forward while he struggled just to survive. Nothing had remained the same, and he slowly realizes he must forge toward a future much different than he hoped or planned.

Drew daily confronts the realization that many of his friends and family continued forward with their lives while he battled to survive. Hopefully, we pray that one day he will catch back up with his friends, but for now we watch and we wait while his friends continue forward. One distinction between Drew and Chuck Noland is that, in many ways, there is still a piece of Drew stranded on that desert island, waiting to be rescued, to come home, and be made completely whole.

Wednesday, January 31st, 2018

“Look at this text I got today.” I handed my phone to Dawn.

“… The Copper Hills basketball team would like to have Drew be our guest at our home game on February 9th. We would like to have ‘Drew Olsen night,’ give him a uniform, have him be an honorary captain, and be introduced with our starting line up. We just want to help give him a cool experience of his senior year at Copper Hills.”

“I told them that would be wonderful,” I said.

Dawn didn’t speak for several minutes as she looked down at the phone in her hands. Finally, she looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and with her voice thick with emotion, she said, “I can’t believe how kind the basketball team has been. Did you say something to them, or ask them to do this?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I had no idea they might do this.”

“Well,…” Dawn could barely get the words out. “Drew could use some ‘cool experiences.’ His senior year has pretty much sucked.”

Monday, February 5th, 2018

“I just got off the phone with Drew’s counselor at school.”

I had been playing phone tag with the school, so as soon as I talked with his counselor, I telephoned Dawn.

“She said it’s not too late for Drew to join the Concert Choir Tour, but they need to know by the end of the week. They are obviously worried about his health and strength for the trip.”

“What are they worried about?” Dawn asked.

“Well, the weather, the bus ride to Seattle, being around contagious people, seizures,” I said. “Same stuff we worry about, but I told her we had discussed with his Rehab Doctor about flying separately and meeting up with the choir in Seattle. I also told her we may not be able to participate in all the activities depending on the schedules and how things are going with Drew.”

“He sure wants to go. Would they be OK with him flying?”

“So long as one of us accompanied him, I think they would be fine with him flying,” I answered. “I told her we had one last doctor to talk to, his Neurologist, on Wednesday, and if he gives us a green light, then we can start making plans.”

“Don’t forget, we still have to figure out how to pay for everything,” Dawn said.

“I know. I know, but we’ll make it work somehow.”

Wednesday, February 7th, 2018

“Did you catch everything the doctor said?” I asked Drew as we walked out of the Neurologists office.

“I think so,” Drew answered, but I don’t know if he really heard everything as he still has trouble processing his hearing and vision (although it is gradually getting better). “Did he say I could go to Seattle?”

“He said you could go to Seattle,” I nodded.

“Yes!” Drew raised his fists in the air, eyes closed, head tilted heavenward and grinning ear to ear.

“The doctor said if we’re flying and getting enough sleep and rest, we should be just fine.”

“Does that sound OK?” Dawn asked Drew.

“Oh, yes,” Drew said. “I’ve never been on an airplane before. I can’t wait.”

“I’ll call the school again tomorrow and let them know,” I said. “Guess I better start making reservations.”

Thursday, February 8th, 2018

“Jeff! Jeff!” Dawn yelled to be heard above the cheering crowd. “Jeff!”

I felt a tap on my shoulder from some friends standing behind me and they pointed toward Dawn who was crouched down beside Drew.

“Hurry and get some water,” she yelled at me. “Drew needs some water.”

He had just subbed out of the church basketball game and returned to the team bench in front of us. The previous five or six games had been uneventful, if not joyful as we watched him return to play one of the sports he loved, but tonight he had forgot his water bottle. I had asked him during halftime to go out into the hallway and drink from the water fountain, but now I wasn’t so sure if he had.

As I stood to run for some water, one of our friends ran out ahead of me and said she was on it. I made my way to Dawn’s side, I knelt down and asked, “What’s the matter?”

At the sound of my voice, Drew turned to look at me, but he seemed to be looking past me, as though he could hear me, but couldn’t see me. His face was pale and ashen, his eyes wide open in alarm.

“When he came out of the game,” Dawn explained, “he turned around and waved for me to come to him. When I came down, his speech was slurred and he was confused. He was trying to speak, but his words were jumbled.”

By that time, the scorers’ table had seen the commotion and passed a bottle of water over to us. Dawn quickly removed the lid and gave it to Drew.

“Drink,” she said. “Drink….”

He tilted his head back and chugged. We knelt beside him, nervously watching and hoping the water would help. As he swallowed and swallowed, I found it hard to breathe and wondered if we would be making a trip to the Hospital tonight.

After a few anxious moments, the color had slowly returned to his cheeks and his eyes were able to focus again. He smiled and said, “I’’m fine now.”

I exhaled and realized I had been holding my breath.

“Finish the water, please,” Dawn told him.

“OK,” Drew nodded.

Drew’s coach looked over at us and asked, “Everything good?”

“I think so,” I answered.

“I’m fine,” Drew said. “I’m ready to go back in.”

“Whoa,” I said. “I don’t think you’re playing any more tonight.”

Drew turned and glared at me. “There’s still plenty of time left in the game.”

“No, Bud,” I said. “You’re done for tonight.”

“But, Dad…”

I patted him on the shoulder and shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

I think I was even more disappointed than he was, but he didn’t realize how close he had come to a trip to the Emergency Room.

Friday, February 9th, 2018

Tip-off was scheduled for 7:00, but we got there an hour early so he could change his shoes and shoot around with the basketball team during warm-ups. Nervous excitement would best describe our drive to the high school.

“I just hope I don’t shoot any air balls,” he said.

One of the coaches dropped off a jersey for him to wear, along with the Drew Strong T-shirts for more than 30 of our family and friends to wear at the game.

“This is the best night of my life,” Drew proclaimed as he walked into the Copper Hills basketball gym. He quickly changed his shoes, got some instruction from the coaches, and then walked onto the court and joined in the shoot around. He couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. Drew joined the team as they returned briefly to the locker room for the pre-game instructions and pep talk.

After the team emerged from the locker room, the Copper Hills Madrigals sang the National Anthem and then the lights dimmed as Drew was introduced with the starting line-up. High School Athletics rules would not allow him to sit on the team bench, but he sat on the front row just behind the scorers table and cheered on the players as they waited to check into the game.

Once the Copper Hills victory was secured, Drew was able to join the team in the locker room after the game where he was named the “Player of the Game” and had the honor of chalking up the tally mark on the team’s Home Wins wall. We were so grateful to the coaches, players, and administration for letting Drew participate and giving him such an honor. In the end, this night would truly be one of the highlights of his otherwise “sucky” senior year of high school.

Saturday, February 17th, 2018

“Can you please pass the salt?” Dawn asked.

“Sure, Mom.” Drew grabbed the salt shaker and reached across the table.

“What is that?” Dawn asked as she looked past the salt shaker and up Drew’s arm to his face.

“Ooooh,” his sisters said nearly in unison as they both looked at Drew’s face.

“What?” Drew asked in alarm. “What?”

“Can you feel that?” Dawn asked.

“What?” Drew looked from his mother to his sisters, still not sure what they were looking at.

I looked up in time to see Drew’s right cheek and the muscles on the right side of his neck rippling and twitching spasmodically.

“What are you guys looking at?” Drew asked with panic in his voice.

“Nooooo,” Dawn groaned as tears started welling up in her eyes.

“What?” Drew repeated.

“Can you feel your cheek twitching?” I asked.

“Not really,” Drew said as he reached his hand up to his cheek, but just as suddenly as it started, the twitching stopped.

“Your cheek and neck looked like they were twitching,” I told him. “But now they stopped.”
Drew touched his cheek, neck, and throat, and then he said, “My throat feels like it is still tensing up, like it might start again.”

“Take some deep breaths,” I said. “Just try to calm down.”

We watched as he inhaled and exhaled several times, trying to relax, and eventually the panic slowly drained from his face.

“Was that a seizure?” Drew’s sister asked.

“Probably,” I nodded.

“No,” his mother shook her head. “Not again.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“You OK?” I asked Drew.

“I think so,” he said.

“Everything will be alright,” I tried to assure everyone, including myself.

“Well, there goes his streak without any seizures,” his sister said.

Slowly, we resumed dinner with a cloud of uncertainty and fear hanging over the table. Any hopes of conversation were dashed as each of us took turns staring at the right side of Drew’s face and neck, watching for any signs of even the slightest twitch, but the seizures never returned the rest of the evening.

The seizure lasted less than 30 seconds and Drew never lost consciousness. I immediately relayed the event to his doctor, suggesting the characteristics appeared similar to a small, myoclonic seizure limited to his face and neck. The doctor ordered a halt to his scheduled wean off the next seizure medicine until after further testing, namely, a routine EEG.

Saturday, March 3rd, 2018

“Do you know if your friends were going to Prom tonight?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Drew shrugged.

“Did you ask them?”

Drew shrugged again. Although he denied it, I could tell he was upset.

“Did you want to ask a girl and go to Prom?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not sure who I would really ask.”

This was true as we only found out a few days ago that Prom was approaching, by which time, plans were probably already in place for most that were planning to attend the dance. Before he became sick last year, he never missed a school dance and usually had a blast with his friends. However, he really hadn’t recovered sufficiently to attend any of the other dances this year up until this one.

“Well, I hope you’re OK hanging out with the rest of the family at the BYU Volleyball game?” We had purchased tickets a few weeks previously, but he could easily have gone to Prom with his friends instead if he decided to go.

“Yeah, I like volleyball.”

“All right, then,” I said. “I guess you’re stuck with me as your date for Prom.”

Monday, March 5th, 2018

“Looks like your last EEG was September 5th. Does that sound correct?” The EEG Nurse asked.

“Yes, that sounds right,” I said. “Do you remember it, Drew?”

“No,” he said with a hint of worry in his voice. He was lying on a stretcher in a small room at the Primary Children’s Outpatient Clinic.

“That’s OK,” the nurse said. “This won’t hurt, but the glue might feel a little cold as I attach these leads to your scalp. Once they’re in place, I’ll get you a warm blanket if you would like?”

“Yes, a warm blanket would be nice,” Drew said.

As the nurse proceeded to alternately dab glue on his scalp with a long Q-tip and adhere the 20 or so electrodes, I asked him, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he said, but I didn’t believe him. Although he was allowed to eat and drink whatever he wanted before the test, they wanted him sleep-deprived. So we had to keep him awake until Midnight the night before, and then I woke up with him at 4:00 AM and kept him awake until the test, which was scheduled for 9:00 AM.

“Well, I’m pretty tired,” I admitted. “I could take a nap right now.”

Once the electrodes were in place, the nurse instructed Drew to alternately open and close his eyes, as well as blow on a pinwheel for a couple of minutes while she calibrated the sensitivity and established some baseline readings. The nurse ran and grabbed him a warm blanket and made sure he was comfortable.

“Looks like we’re good to go,” she said. “Go ahead and take a nap if you would like. I’ll be back in about 20 minutes.” The nurse then dimmed the lights and shut the door on her way out of the room.

Sure enough, Drew fell asleep in less than 30 seconds. I was too anxious to sleep and alternately peeked at the EEG monitor and my iPad. The time flew by quickly and when the nurse returned, she turned the lights slightly brighter and gently woke Drew back up.

“For the last part of the test,” she explained, “I need to shine this strobe light into your face ten times for about 15 seconds each time. You can go ahead and keep your eyes closed if you would like.”

Drew did keep his eyes closed. From my perspective, he did not appear to have any seizures, but the nurse told us the doctor would contact us with the results in a day or two. Overall, the results were encouraging and we were cleared once again to start weaning the next seizure medication.

Thursday, March 8th, 2018

“Are you excited to go on tour with the choir?” Drew’s high school counselor asked.

“Yes,” Drew said. “It will be a lot of fun. I can’t wait.”

We talked a few minutes about the logistics and itinerary and plans. Again, we were very grateful that the school would allow Drew to go.

“But that’s not why you’re here, is it?” His counselor asked.

Drew shook his head and said, “I’m ready to add more classes.”

Prior to the meeting, Dawn and I encouraged Drew to lead the meeting. We would be there to support him and help if he became stuck, but this was his meeting and we encouraged him to do most of the talking to his counselor.

“How many classes have you been taking?” She asked.

“Two,” Drew explained. “Choir and Seminary.”

“How have they been going? You doing OK with them?”

“Yeah,” Drew nodded. He had been doing well from what we could gather.

“Are you super tired during the day?” His counselor asked.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t take naps any more.” As we continued to wean off his seizure medicines, it was true that he was gradually becoming more awake and alert during the day. He hadn’t had to take a seizure-med nap since the beginning of December.

“Great! How many classes are you thinking to add?”

“Well, then,” Drew continued. “I was hoping that…, that maybe…. Well, for fourth quarter, I was hoping to add two more classes.”

His counselor nodded as she picked up his transcript and reviewed his schedule. “Which two classes did you have in mind?”

“Well,…so,… My schedule was originally going to be Theater 7th period and Madrigals 8th period, so I was hoping to add those two classes back again.”

She quickly glanced up from her list, “Madrigals?” She asked.

Drew nodded, “Yes.”

“Did you talk to the choir teacher yet?”

“No, not yet,” Drew shook his head.

I added, “This is the first time he has talked to anyone at the school about returning to Madrigals.”

“Well, it is wonderful that you can add two more classes, but both classes are full and I will have to talk to the teachers to see if we can add you back in,” the counselor explained. “I want to give you some answers today and get your schedule worked out, so if you have time, I will go talk to the teachers right now — would that be OK?”

“Yes, that’d be great,” Drew said as we all nodded.

The counselor stood and left the office for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes or so.

“Well, the Theater teacher said we could go ahead and add you to his class,” the counselor smiled. “But, the choir teacher said there was no way we could add you to Madrigals again.”

“What?” Drew asked.

“I’m sorry,” the counselor said. “This late in the year it would be impossible to add you to the group.”

“But why?” Dawn asked. “He was already a Madrigal before he got sick?”

“As you are aware, the choir teacher is also facing some health challenges and he will be taking a medical leave for most of the fourth quarter,” she explained. “He is sorry, but with a substitute taking over the next few weeks, there is no way she would be able to make changes or adjustments to add you back into the group.”

Drew leaned against his mother’s shoulder with his eyes closed, shaking his head. Ever since his coma, he has never had any tears when he cries, but his mother had plenty for both of them. We sat in silence for several seconds.

The counselor finally spoke, “I’m very sorry. I wish I had some better news, but let’s see if we can’t find another class you might like instead.”

****

I had to leave from the school and go straight to work, but later when I returned home, Dawn said they had spent most of the day crying, with little else on their mind.

“As soon as we arrived home this morning,” Dawn said, “Drew ripped off his Madrigals jacket and said, ‘Guess I won’t ever wear this again, I’m no longer a madrigal.’ Then he placed it on a hangar and shoved it in the back of his closet.”

I couldn’t blame him to feel that way about his jacket, and although I didn’t admit it, I had spent most of the day pushing back tears as well.

“I just don’t understand,” Dawn continued. “He’s a Madrigal all of last year. They have tryouts for this year and Drew makes it again. He was supposed to be singing with them. It’s not his fault he got sick. Why can’t they let him be a Madrigal?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It doesn’t seem very fair, but it makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” Dawn cried. “Maybe you better go into your son and help him understand how it makes sense, because I don’t think it makes any sense. Every visitor, every person that worked with Drew in the hospital knew that he was a Madrigal because he took great pride in telling them about his love for singing. That is his identity, and now it’s been taken away. In fact, Drew wanted me to take him back over to the school this afternoon so he could take his name off of his locker, but I didn’t think I could step back into that school right now.”

All of the school groups have clusters of lockers together throughout the school, and Drew was assigned a locker with the rest of the Madrigals even though he had yet to use it.

“Listen, it will work out,” I said. “We can’t give up hope yet, but getting mad and fighting is not going to solve anything. We need to be grateful that he is able to return to school for more classes. He is getting there more and more each day compared to where he was at just three months ago.”

I held her in my arms for a while, trying to convince myself as well.

Sunday, March 11th, 2018

Within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, each member is privileged to receive a special blessing from a Patriarch, who has been set apart and authorized to perform these blessings. Many youth in the church will get their Patriarchal blessing while in their teens to help guide them as they make decisions that will impact the rest of their lives. Drew had received his Blessing Recommend a couple of weeks before he became sick, but was obviously never able to schedule or receive his special blessing. However, today he was finally able to receive his blessing.

Drew’s blessing was very inspiring and indeed special as we listened. After it was finished, we thanked the Patriarch and proceeded out to our car to return home, but before we got to the car, Drew grabbed me and hugged me for several minutes. I cried as he kept patting me on the chest, over my heart, and he kept repeating, “I’m going on a mission, Dad. I’m going on a mission.”

“You bet you are,” I said and held him close. “You’ll get your chance one day, Elder Olsen.”

Thursday, March 22nd, 2018

“We are off to Washington Seattle!” Drew hugged his mother one more time as she dropped Drew and I off at the Salt Lake Airport. After much planning and preparation, the day was finally here. The choir sang in several churches, including St. James Cathedral, and they sounded incredible.

 

 

Saturday, March 24th, 2018 — Performance at University Presbyterian Church, Seattle, WA.

© Copyright 2018 Jeff, All rights Reserved. Written For: Jeffrey Olsen