Early Saturday morning I took off in the van that
was donated to Kari and Aaron. (More about the
vehicle later!). I arrived late in the evening. "I
love you. You've come here so much," she said when I
walked into her room. She remembered that Linda
couldn't come because when the accident happened she
had taken an incomplete in the last class she needed
to finish her degree, but now was up against the
deadline to make up the work. She asked about Daniel
and Bryan and a few more things. Aaron wanted to see
the van, and as we walked out to it he said that that
was the longest, most coherent conversation Kari had
had in three days. He and Jan Yessa were both
exhausted, so I am glad to be able to stay the night
tonight so they can both get some rest.
Kari still struggles to find some words, and gets
things mixed up now and then (and now and then it's
funny and we all laugh at it!), but she is doing so
much better these last few hours. She worries about
doubting God and not being good enough and that makes
everything harder on her. Hopefully, she'll work
through these things as we talk to her and tell her
she's OK--all of her, even her doubts.
The pain in her arms, especially the right one,
continues and is sometimes so intense that she has to
bite down on a towel. Yet I noticed that when her arm
went into a spasm she wanted people to hold it down
really hard. We're trying something new, and it seems
to be a little better. When the arm spasms, I've
tried to tell her to let it go, not fight it, and
breathe with me deeply in rhythm. Fighting it, the
intense pain would last 30-45 seconds, but going with
it seems for now to have reduced the time to 10-15
seconds. "It's like Lamaze, Kari," I said. She asked
a nurse who was standing by, "Have you ever had a
baby?" "Yes, dear," the nurse replied. "Does it hurt
as bad as this?" "I don't know, I've never had arm
spasms, but I think probably having a baby is more
painful." So I'm thinking that if Lamaze can help
with that, it can help with this.
Very early on, I remember how she fought so hard
against the ventilator and the tubes--so hard that
they had to put blocks in her mouth and her brother
Dustin had to get pretty severe with her. It's a
theme we come back to again and again: letting go, not
fighting things, relaxing. So much, much easier said
than done, of course, but we can all see the truth in
it. The physical pain is still there and very
intense, but not quite as much if we can let go more
(again, easier said than done). Sometimes we can even
cut the severity by half or two-thirds. Spiritually
we have to let go of feeling we're not good enough,
feeling that our doubts are things we can't have.
Worry, too. Sometimes when Kari is only on the edge
of coherence she's kind of free to say anything that
pops into her head. "You have such a deep line in
your forehead," she said to me last night. "Now Kari,
let's not focus on Dad's forehead so much," Aaron
said. "But it's so deep," Kari continued. "Richard,
how did it get so deep." "Worry," I said. "In fact,
I've had it since I was a little kid." I have, too,
and these days when I see it in a mirror it's become,
ironically, a sign which helps me worry less--though I
still do plenty of it.
When you pray for Kari please pray that she can
relax and let go, physically and spiritually. Imagine
peace and sleep and laying down of worries and other
burdens. Feel these things flowing through her mind
and body: relaxation, letting go. But as I write to
ask you to pray and imagine this for Kari I feel even
more strongly that we feel all this for ourselves too.
We are one mind and one body and one spirit, and
tonight this means to me that we can all pray for and
feel this peace and relaxation and letting go as one
people, all of us praying and thinking one set of
thoughts. What Kari is going through has made me feel
how much we need peace and rest and letting go both as
individuals and in what we are as one mind, one body,
one spirit together. As often as you think of her,
pray for peace and letting go.
--Richard R. Guzman
