Great News!

To those of you who haven't heard ... my boy is coming home!

Stunned does not described how I felt when the "team" announced that Conor no longer required acute care ... he was ready for discharge. They announced that his recovery was truly astounding; his pain management extraordinary --- and he could begin his rehabilitation at home.

The Occupational Therapist had been to the house this morning, and was satisfied that with the removal of a few pieces of furniture and the addition of a few devices, Conor could safely make the transition home. Yippeee! They will install a few bathroom devices (for showering); a ramp (for front door access); supply a wheelchair and a commode chair... and Conor is all set. If this can all be done in the next couple of days ... Conor should be home by Friday (three weeks minus one day from the accident!)

My heart is singing ... and Conor can't wipe the silly grin off his face: "Three more days, Mum!" Now this is no holiday ... believe me ... nurses will visit the home; physiotherapists, speech therapists and the occupational therapist will be semi-permanent fixtures chez-Lacey. I welcome them all ... my boy is comin' home!

Tonight ... I will have that Drambuie tonight and thank the good Lord for listening to all those hundreds of people who have asked that He direct his gaze Conor's way. Despite what has happened to us over the past year ... I see His hand (and Mikey's hand) in orchestrating this miraculous recovery. Thank you all for "signing the petition" to ensure His attention.

May I take a moment here: I have been asked many times over the past few weeks: Why? Believe me, I have asked myself that question many times. You may have caught on by now, that I am quite a "spiritual" person. I have always believed (and continue to believe) that things happen for a reason. The other day I was speaking to someone (I apologize for not remembering who) and I said that perhaps the reason Mikey passed on was to prepare us for Conor's accident (not to mention barring Conor's passage through the Pearly Gates). From the moment I saw Conor's chest rise and fall, watched the monitors record every beat of his heart --- I had hope. I didn't have any hope with Mike --- his chest never rose --- his heart never beat. The fact that Conor was holding onto life --- however tenuously --- was more than I thought possible when I received that phonecall from the police on that Saturday morning. If Mikey had been alive ... if I was not mourning his loss ... I probably would have viewed Conor's condition from a very different perspective. To experience great loss makes you treasure and appreciate the small gains. The Great Weaver's pattern is starting to take shape ...

Thank you for listening .... I probably won't get philosophical with you all again (then again .!?). Sometimes the words just need to flow. ...

Please keep those good thoughts coming ... the hard work ... the sweat and tears .... is about to begin.