Post-midnight family phone call

Two weeks have passed since Wallace’s car accident, and I spoke to my parents and sister last night to get an update on my beloved brother’s health. My dad called Wal to the phone and we chatted for ages. It was good to hear his voice again; he sounded almost chirpy. To state the obvious, these last few days have not been easy. I appreciate all my family’s hands-on care for each other. Wallace saw an ENT (ear, nose and throat) specialist and a maxo-facial surgeon this week and learned that he’d burst his eardrum and that the pain in the ear was caused by an inner ear infection, which is now under control (although his hearing may be affected).

His eye’s lateral rectus nerve (LR) is damaged, caused by his skull-base fracture which means that his eye has lost its ability to move (it appears “squint”); it also dries out quickly, thus needing constant ointment. The right side of his face is partly paralysed, some facial nerves are not functioning, and his broken cheekbones are causing some trouble. This means he has no feeling in part of his face: his teeth and sinuses (etc.) are affected. Most serious is the double vision caused by the damage in his patched eye. Because of his fractured skull, an operation on the base of the brain is not advisable (too risky as the nerve runs along the base of the brain), but in time some of the damage may heal on its own. The body truly is fearfully and wonderfully made!

Please continue to uphold Wal in your prayers; he is on the mend but still has a lo-o-ong way to go. We spoke candidly about many things tonight, as brothers and sisters are perhaps able to do after a(nother) life-threatening incident. (This is not the first—or second—time Wal’s loved ones have held what we thought was a “deathbed vigil” at his side; I pray it may be the last.)

Much of what we said to each other on the phone is personal, but I will say that I was delighted to listen to his lovely voice and hear his characteristic good humour coming my way across the continent and along the line. He knows he’s blessed to be alive (“lucky” is the word the doctor used), and that his life may even have a purpose. May our life-saving Creator help him find it.

{Be well, my brother. I love you.}