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Celebrate:

The Improbable is Possible

Table of Content

There’s a profound sense of gratitude when a life has been snatched from death’s grasp. In neon lights, it shouts what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love. It’s an exuberant feeling, a new appreciation for every single moment, for Matt and us. A lifetime ago and yet just yesterday, we made a vow: no matter what came our way, no matter how difficult or unfair it seemed, we would ensure that Matt didn't just survive—he would thrive in spite of it all.

The anniversary of Matt’s many accomplishments and our family’s royal and noble effort was worthy of a grand celebration. Twenty-four people from church, the neighborhood, and work gathered at our house, sensing they were privileged to witness God slowly unfurling a miracle. They were in for a big surprise—the sight of Matt talking and interacting with everyone was an absolute wonder.

It was a blessing to see him attentive to various conversations, mingling with people, and even participating sparingly. Mike and I kept a lookout, stepping in to facilitate or interpret if it seemed they or he were struggling to communicate effectively. The ability to converse with people he barely knew, without getting completely tongue-tied, was more than just "smile-worthy"—it was a genuine milestone. He amazed me even more when he demonstrated good manners by responding to a couple's questions, even though he had just set his plate of food on the table and likely would have preferred to sit down and eat.

It was a lovely, heartwarming evening, worthy of a satisfied sigh of relief. We had made it this far.

But our commemoration was far from over—we had big plans. Matt and I packed our bags for our first road trip to Easton, Pennsylvania, to revisit the places that were once home to him. We went to Lafayette College, where he had taught, his church, his house, and even the hospital ICU where he first received care. We also had a picnic with his old game night buddies. I felt this trip was vital for Matt. It offered him the ability to reconnect with the life he had before the injury, and it allowed others to see and experience the incredible progress he has made.

We had so much fun! Our first stop was, and why not, Weyerbacher Brewing Company, a family tradition whenever we’d visit Matt. Its signature, brightly colored medieval jester welcomed us like an old friend; the atmosphere was jovial, perfectly reflecting the spirit of mighty warriors. We were all smiles, sampling new craft beers and relaxing after our Saturday afternoon drive—a journey that had been surprisingly eventful—but held a hidden pearl. To dodge a massive traffic backup on Interstate 95 through New Jersey, we wove our way through secondary streets, relying on my smartphone's Google Maps. Unexpectedly and remarkably, Matt took charge of the phone, forecasting the next turn and when to merge left or right. As we neared Easton, he even remembered the directions himself. Go figure—yet another random brain function that still worked.

Later, we strolled through the streets of Easton, enjoying BBQ pork and beef brisket at the Public Market. We then stopped at Bethlehem Dairy Store for a treat: layered lemon Italian Ice with soft vanilla ice cream, which was absolutely yummy.

A reception followed Sunday morning worship at College Hill Presbyterian Church, and I was given a lovely bouquet of flowers. I enjoyed pleasant conversations with these people who had thrown me a lifeline during those early, uncertain days. Our next stop was Matt’s house. He was happy to see how well the tenants were maintaining it, but as the realization sank in, he was saddened by the fact that he couldn’t live there anymore. Finally, that afternoon, we joined his Board Game Group for a barbecue dinner. Matt was able to play a game with them without my intervention—bravo, Matt! Their patience and encouragement certainly helped, and if they were taken aback by the drastic change in Matt’s appearance or his lack of game prowess, they hid it well.

Our trip’s finale was Monday, with several essential stops. First on the agenda was St. Luke’s Hospital, where we added a bag of Panera pastries to their already full spread of Panera bagels! I had mixed emotions being in this space where our lives had turned upside down. We spoke with physicians, a physician assistant, nurses, and the Social Worker. I couldn’t believe how much they still remembered about Matt. They were thrilled to have the chance to see how a previous patient had progressed and to hear part of his story since the day they sent us on our way. They welcomed feedback on how to improve the care and services they provide.

Lastly, we toured Lafayette College, where Matt had been a professor. Matt, due to his short-term memory deficits, had not remembered that his employment was terminated on January 1st, a realization that led to understandable sadness and disappointment. Despite this, the college demonstrated overwhelming support. They hosted a lunch attended by 15 students and 15 faculty, including the Provost and President. It was heartwarming to see so many people rally around Matt to express their love, telling him what a great professor he was and how deeply he was missed. The Provost remarked that Matt's "determination and progress were an inspiring story of love and care." This closing act of our adventure underscored the profound impact Matt had had on his community and served as a powerful testament to his progress.

Our trip was all that I had hoped for and MORE!

In May, we returned to Sunnyview Rehabilitation Hospital, where Matt had undergone four months of intensive therapy. We wanted to demonstrate his remarkable advancements to the dedicated staff—nurses, aides, and therapists—and to acknowledge their crucial role in his early recovery. They were truly overjoyed and particularly impressed to hear Matt talk, since he had only been able to utter a few words when he left. In a moment of lighthearted competition, Matt engaged in a rematch of "Thumb Wars" with his arch-rival, an LPN, successfully preserving his championship status. The interactions at Sunnyview served as powerful affirmations of Matt's extraordinary journey, and he, in turn, offered a "vital message of hope" to others facing similar challenges.

I want to end with a correspondence I received back then, from my contact in the neurosurgery department at St. Luke’s Hospital in the ICU. Her comments touched our hearts, validating our efforts and confirming the miracle that continues to unfold in Matt’s life. She wrote: “It is absolutely amazing what determination, support, aggressive rehab, prayers and love can do. The physical and functional improvements Matt has made are truly remarkable, but what makes me the happiest to hear are his witty remarks and about his ballroom dancing (the things that make Matt, Matt).”

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Celebrate:

The Improbable is Possible