Drew Strong(er) #5 (May 2018) — High School Graduation

Saturday, May 19th, 2018 — 10:00 AM

My phone beeped as a text box appeared on the screen.

“Dad, we’re done now if you want to come and pick me up,” Drew texted me at the conclusion of his mandatory meeting for work.

“I’m already out front,” I texted back. “Watch for cars.”

“OK. Got ya’,” he replied. “One second….”

For two years prior to his illness, Drew worked at the Kearns Oquirrh Park Fitness Center, first as a sweeper cleaning and emptying trash cans, and then at the Front Desk helping with admissions and memberships. In fact, he worked a shift two days before being admitted to the hospital last June. We stayed in contact with his boss throughout his illness, and once Drew was cleared by his doctors, he was able to return to work earlier this month, but since he has not been medically cleared to drive yet, we will be taxiing him to and from his job for a while.

After a few moments, he emerged from the building and hopped in the car.

“So, how was it?” I asked.

”OK,” he said. “They talked about some policies and things. I remember some of it from when I worked there before.”

”Really? That’s great. Could you hear what they were saying?”

“Most of it, I think, but I was having a hard time hearing some of the stuff they were saying,” he explained. “I even sat near the front, but I might ask if I can attend the second session next week.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind that, but they might only be able to pay you for attending one of the meetings,” I said. “Do you need Mom or me to attend with you and help take notes?”

“Nah, I should be good.”

“Did you tell your boss we got the medic alert bracelet ordered?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel nice to be back to work?” I asked him.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I just wish they would let me work in the kiosk outside again.”

“In time they will,” I said, “but for now just focus on remembering everything, work where they need you, and be glad to have a job again.”

We are so grateful that Drew has been able to return to work. Although we live less than 15 minutes away, we still mapped out a detailed seizure plan with his boss and obtained a medical alert bracelet with his information in case he started having seizures while at work. The Fitness Center also had Drew attend a couple of training sessions to help remember some of his work duties with the plan to start slow and, as he can tolerate, then allow him to work up to longer shifts and work more days per week. He is thrilled to interact with the public and return to more “normal” activities.

Monday, May 21st, 2018 — 6:00 PM

“Go ahead and get his shots out of the fridge,” I said. “We’ll just have to give them a little early tonight before the choir concert begins.”

We adjusted his medication schedule to 6:45 AM and 6:45 PM so that he could participate in more activities after dinnertime without worrying about getting his shots and seizure meds. He gets two shots in the morning and two shots in the evening to help control his immune system from getting out of control again, and to help them sting less, we take them out of the refrigerator about 30 minutes ahead of time. As tonight was the last choir concert of the year (and of Drew’s high school career), we were excited and determined not to miss it. With any event or activity now, we always have to figure out a plan ahead of time and make arrangements for any medications or possible seizures.

“Well, where do you plan to do his shots?” his mother asked.

“I can either take him into the restroom once we get to the school, or if we do them in his stomach, we could do the shots in the car once we get to the school parking lot,” I explained.

The injections are subcutaneous, or just under the skin, so the needle is thin and not very long. Still, I have accidentally poked my fingers twice and they don’t tickle (we re-cap the syringes when we are out in public so that we can take them home to dispose in our sharps container). Plus, the medicine stings under the skin. The trickiest part is being able to squeeze some “chub” to give him the injections without going too deep.

“Let’s just do them in my stomach,” Drew said as he took another bite of dinner. His stomach is his least favorite injection site because he is so skinny and it is hard to find much subcutaneous tissue there for the shots, but his stomach is the easiest spot to access when we’re out in public places.

We were rushing to eat dinner before leaving for the high school as the choir students were asked to arrive for warm-ups by 6:30 PM. Usually we have to show up to the school concerts before that time anyway so that we can find some seats not already saved by other parents.

“So did you decide what you’re going to hold up during the Senior Song?” I asked.

Traditionally at the Spring Choir Concert each year, the seniors who will be graduating perform a song together one last time. At the conclusion of the song, the students step forward in small groups and hold up a T-shirt or sign or name tag that indicates where they plan to go after graduation. Many of them hold up sweatshirts or pennants with colleges names, while some hold up flags of countries if they will be serving an LDS mission, and so forth.

“So I guess I’ll hold up one of my ‘Drew Strong’ T-shirts,” Drew said.

“Why?” I asked. “I thought you were going to hold up a BYU shirt?”

“Mom and Erin said I shouldn’t because I haven’t been accepted yet,” he explained.

“Well, you have always planned to go there,” I offered, “and your grades and tests scores and extracurricular activities should be good enough.”

“He shouldn’t say he is going there until he’s been accepted,” Dawn countered. “The other kids have been accepted to their schools. Drew still has to apply.”

“But he’s been sick,” I said. “They’ll understand. He was on track before he got sick, and he’ll get there soon.”

“How do you know for sure?” Dawn asked. “Nobody knows.” Tears were welling up in her eyes.

“You’re right. I don’t know for sure….” I was measuring my words carefully as this had been a very sensitive topic for quite some time. “But we’ll keep working hard to get there,” I added, “won’t we?”

“Of course,” Drew nodded as I put my arm around his shoulders.

“Hopefully after you finish the cognitive testing next month, we’ll have a better idea when you should apply,” I said.

“That’s still not a guarantee that he’ll get in,” Dawn shook her head.

I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words.

“Yes…, I guess he shouldn’t infer that he’s already been accepted,” I admitted. “Who knows — maybe he’ll get cleared to serve a mission for a couple of years and then apply and end up somehwere else for college?”

We have tried so very hard to continue to encourage Drew and keep him motivated to do his rehab and work hard as he has watched his friends get accepted to college and missions and such.

“You’ve got lots of options, so yeah, maybe for now, the Drew Strong shirt best sums up your plans after high school. Who knows what your future holds?” I said. “We better get going or we’re going to be late.”

Drew has come a long way since his continuous seizures subsided and he woke from his coma. He still has some significant challenges ahead, but his progress truly is remarkable and nothing short of a miracle.

Thursday, May 24th, 2018 — 6:35 PM

“We picked the wrong side of the gym to sit on, Drew,” I said as we watched the students and parents seated at the tables on the opposite side of the room stand and walk toward the buffet line.

At last year’s choir banquet, some of the late-comers had a hard time finding a seat. For the year-end banquet this year, Drew and I arrived with plenty of time to spare so we could get a seat near the door so that we could discretely step into the hallway during the dinner to give him his shots and meds. This year, however, the banquet was held in the gymnasium, so there were plenty of tables and chairs. Still, it was nice to know we could exit the gym quickly and easily if there was a problem.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine,” Drew said and then he turned his attention back to one of his friends sitting across the table. They were laughing and discussing humorous door approaches as future missionaries for the church.

Drew suddenly sat upright and leaned close to me.

“Dad, I’m having a hallucination,” he whispered in alarm.

“Right now?”

“Yes, it just started,” he said. “I’m hearing a song in my left ear.”

The last few weeks, he has fallen into a pattern of 3 or 4 days with seizures followed by 3 or 4 days without seizures. Because the seizures are not occuring every day and his medications have remained unchanged for a few weeks, we can only guess that the triggers have related more to his amount of sleep, fatigue, body temperature, or hydration. It took us a couple of weeks to realize, but nearly all of his seizures are preceded by visual or auditory hallucinations, which helps him prepare for them and prevent falling and injuring himself. However, despite several close calls, he had never yet suffered a seizure in public.

“Do you want to try and walk out to the hall or lay down?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think we have time now…. Oh, this sucks…,” he said as his eyes started rolling upward and to the side.

“OK, OK,” I said as I pulled him closer to me. “Take some deep breathes. Try closing your eyes, and lean on me.” He leaned forward onto the table, resting his head on his arm while he huddled close to me.

“Oh, Dad, ….”

Then the seizure kicked in. Although he had his face buried in the crook of his arm, I could still feel the muscles in his face violently jolting and twisting back and forth as he leaned against me.

“Breathe, Drew,” I whispered into his ear, which was starting to become tinged with blue. “You really need to take some deep breaths, Bud.”

The muscles in his neck and face spasmed rhythmically and repeatedly, gradually increasing in duration and intensity until his entire head began to twitch. I quickly slid my hand beneath his forehead to protect his face from slamming into the edge of the table as the seizure crescendoed and then, finally, began to wane after about 45 seconds more.

As the seizure subsided, I glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed the seizure, but it became apparent only his friend across the table, along with his family, even realized a seizure had occured.

“You doing OK?” I asked him in his ear.

Drew just sat still with his head still resting on his forearm.

“Keep breathing,” I encouraged. “You’re doing great.”

Slowly he sat upright, glancing around the room to get his bearings. Finally, he turned to me and said, “Well…, that sucked.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Pretty much.”

*****

The year-end choir banquet allows the students an opportunity to look back on the school year, the growth that they made, and the memories that they shared. Music letters are distributed to those who earned them. Gratitude is also shown to the teachers, pianists, advisors, and all those who helped make the year a success. Lastly, the choir teacher himself is able to give out some awards.

“You sure you’re not getting any awards or anything?” I asked Drew as we listened to the proceedings.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

We cheered and applauded as each of the several awards and recognitions were handed out one by one until the choir teacher paused and looked around the room.

“The next student who earned an award this year struggled with his own health challenges this past year,” the choir teacher explained. “We have kind of mirrored each other as we have battled together to overcome our respective trials.”

Over the past year or so, the choir teacher has been fighting cancer and it is hard to believe that in the end, they both were able to do so much together this year in choir.

“I would like to present one of the ‘Director’s Awards,’” the choir teacher paused again as he glanced down at the certificate. “The ‘Choir Spirit Award’… goes to… Drew Olsen, who truly went “above and beyond the call of duty and [went] the extra mile” to return to choir this year.”

Applause rang throughout the gymnasium. Tears started springing to my eyes as I thought back on all the heartache and struggle from this past year. I looked over at Drew, and he was looking down at his phone.

“Hey, Bud, he just called your name,” I said.

“What?” Drew looked up, and then looked around.

“He just said your name,” I nodded toward the podium.

“He did?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “Get up there.”

“Oh,” Drew said as he stood and quickly walked to the front of the banquet. He smiled as the realization sunk in that he did earn an award after all.

Tuesday, May 29th, 2018 —  7:30 PM

“Why did they put that picture in?” Drew asked. He held up his yearbook and pointed at one of the pictures from Homecoming with his girlfriend at the time.

“They asked me if it would be OK?” I explained. “I told them they could use the picture.”

“Ugh,” he said. “I look horrible.”

“No you don’t,” his mother said. “It’s a very nice picture.”

“But I’ve got my feeding tube hanging out of my nose,” he said. “And my eyes are messed up.”

“They don’t look that bad,” I said. “Your mother’s right — it’s a nice picture.”

Today the high school students received their yearbooks and I had honestly forgotten about the Homecoming picture. Drew did have to go into the school twice to get his Senior picture taken. His eyes were really misaligned for the first picture, and even with editing, we all agreed to have him re-take the picture after a few more weeks of recovery and weaning of seizure medications. On the last day of re-takes, I took Drew in and he sat for the second attempt at his Senior picture. They only took one picture, and we didn’t get to see how it turned out until the yearbook today. Luckily, it turned out much better than the first attempt from earlier in his recovery.

Drew returned to the couch to continue scouring the many comments and pictures from the school year.

“Is he reading everything OK?” I asked his mother.

“Yes,” she said. “He’s been asking questions about some of the pictures, but otherwise he’s loved it. That’s pretty much all he’s  done since he got home from school is sit and read.”

“Well I’m glad he took a break for dinner,” I said.

“Uh, oh,” Drew looked up in alarm.

“What?” his mother asked.

“There’s a seizure coming,” Drew said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Drew just shook his head as he quickly laid down on the couch and closed his eyes.

I turned to his mother, “Did he take his evening meds on time?”

Up until now, Drew never had any seizures after he took his evening medications with dinner. We would always breathe a little sigh of relief once he received the evening seizure medicines, so I was confused that he would have a seizure now.

“Yes,” Dawn said. “He took his medicines just fine, and no other seizures today.”

For the next several minutes, we watched helplessly as the seizure started and ran its course. There really is not much you can do to stop a seizure once it starts — we simply keep him from falling and watch his oxygen saturation, encouraging him to breathe as soon as he regains control of his muscles. Although we are watching the clock and standing by with his rescue medicine just in case the seizure doesn’t stop.

“Now why would he have a seizure this late in the day?”  I puzzled aloud as Drew rested.

“He’s caught up on his water today, but he’s still not sleeping very well at night, so he’s probably tired,” Dawn offered.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s part of it,” I said. “But, he hasn’t slept well at night for a few weeks, and today was the first time he ever had a seizure after his evening medicines.”

“The only other thing I can think of is that he has been studying that yearbook non-stop ever since he got home from school,” his mother stated. “I thought the dinner break would be enough, but I guess it wasn’t?”

He really had been ‘studying’ the yearbook simply because of his vision. He had to hold the book up close to his face to read the small print, and then at varying angles while turning his head side to side, in order to minimize his double vision and bouncing eyes.

“How long in total do you think he’s been sitting there reading?” I asked.

“I would guess at least three hours,” Dawn said. “Maybe more….”

“Sounds like we better get him to take more breaks and not strain for so long,” I said.

Thursday, May 31st, 2018 — 3:35 PM

“I need to supervise my son and his medical condition,” I said to the security guard and pointed at Drew. We were standing near the front of the graduation line so that Drew could participate with the choir as part of the graduation ceremony and now they were finally letting the students enter the Maverick Center.

The guard nodded as he looked into the small lunchbox that held Drew’s evening seizure medications and shots, along with two small ice blocks. Once the guard nodded his satisfaction, he motioned for me to enter the arena and I jogged to catch back up to Drew and the choir.

“What was that all about?” Drew asked me as I strode up beside him.

“He was just doing his job” I said.

Security was actually heightened due to some threats made earlier in the week, but luckily nothing out of the ordinary happened during the graduation ceremony.

“That was nice of them to let you sing with the Madrigals for graduation,” I said. “Did you ask them to do it?”

“No,” Drew shook his head and shrugged. “They just said I could sing with them.”

“Are you glad to sing with the Madrigals one last time?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” Drew said, “But I will probably have to mouth a lot of the words because I didn’t get to practice much with them — pretty much just yesterday and today.”

“Well, that’s OK,” I replied. “Just do your best and be grateful.”

“I am,” Drew smiled.

“Listen,” I pulled him aside as the choir students made their way to the podium at the front of the arena. “When it is time for your shots and medicines, I’ll be sitting right over there on the first row.”

The arena is normally used to play hockey, and I pointed to the row of chairs immediately behind what would normally be the team bench and penalty box. Drew peered down my arm to where I was pointing and then nodded.

“You need to stand and make your way over to me, and I will jump down and take you into the locker room,” I pointed. The team bench area opened to a short hallway that led to the hockey players’ locker room.

“OK,” he nodded.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll be right there if you need anything.”

“OK,” he nodded again.

I pulled him close and hugged him. “Now go have fun and celebrate. You made it.”

“Yup, I will,” he said as he nodded one more time, and then he trotted forward to rejoin his choir mates.

Drew’s High School Graduation

 

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