As promised, Elizabeth was determined to attend basketball games this weekend, making it to her brother's two high school games and our local university game. Watching sporting events, especially basketball, have always been one of her favorite past times, and setting the goal of attending these goals served as an important benchmark. Friday night's game found us sitting next to the band, and magically, Brian pulled a pair of earplugs from his coat pocket. Each of these games allowed her a social outing that gave her a chance to enjoy a sporting event and begin talking with others. Friday night was exhausting. By the end of the game, she looked pale and her left eye was a little puffier than when we had left home. Saturday, however, was a different experience. She was able to sleep most of the morning, and after showering, it was difficult to tell she had ever had major brain surgery. Fortunately, as I mentioned, she has long hair, and the surgeon only shave a 1" portion along the question-mark shaped incision underneath the hair.
We continue to monitor her pain levels; interestingly, her pain has not been her head. Instead, she has complained of a sore neck and aching knees. Her ribs also hurt. Tylenol has helped alleviate the stiffness and aches, and we believe these are side-effects of lying on the couch and not moving a lot.
Yesterday, we ventured to church and had a visit from a dear high school friend who went on a walk with us to the post office. I will write later about the church service and the timeliness of the message and music. Each spoke of our experience of the past three weeks, deserving their own reflection.
Brian headed back to work last week, and I will venture to my university today. We have all looked forward to getting back to our careers, and the last few days have given us a chance to emotionally prepare for this. We DO have work to do, as do Elizabeth and Lucas. Three of us will find it easier to slip into a routine. Elizabeth will continue to heal and find ways to create her own routine. She has a mountain of thank you cards to write, but she will chip away at those slowly. For now, her best medicine is to be home, surrounded by a community that loves her and continues to hold her closely as she rests.