The Soldier and the Squirrel introduces children to the Purple Heart

through a loving story of a friendship between a newly wounded soldier

and Rocky the squirrel with his backyard friends. This story began as a

blog during my first year in bed after my incident. With much

encouragement, it is now a book and has been placed in the

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum. Please watch the video

on the About page to learn for the Soldier & Rocky are changing children's






Glorious Rejoice Dots Glitter





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« What Is CRPS | Main | A Journey Through A Ketamine Infusion »

An Infusion, My Son & Me

Race cars zipped past my bedside. Blurred colors of my son's childhood bordered my site. My hospital bed hummed in the eye of the storm. I looked over to my son. My site staggered until it landed on his earphones. His head bobbing to a tune I could not hear. My headphones were playing the soundtrack of Frozen. But it was his energy that overrode the melodic symphony of princesses and ice castles in my head. He was as peaceful as could be. As though my Ketamine infusions were just another normal day in the life of a seventeen year old boy. Two years of this has taken a toll on his youth. But you would never know it. He would never let you know it. To him, all of this has almost been a gift. An opportunity to grow into a man that others see. And what they see is beautiful.

I try to change my music to George Winston, but double vision plagues the screen. I can do nothing on my own. Words warble through my lips. My tongue is plastered to the roof of my mouth. To wave my hand for help would do no good as I wouldn't be able to explain my request. So Frozen it was. Much like my intent.

Throughout my infusion, Joe would rise over me and question with his eyes. I smiled back as best I could muster. Sometimes I would point my thumb up at him miming "You're ok Kid." He understood. He smiled back.

The tables had turned. I depended on my son completely. Three hours after my infusions were done, it was time to take me home. I don't remember much of anything, or of the ride home. But I do remember feeling safe, and loved. My son was driving me home. He wheeled me into the house, brought me upstairs, and put me to bed. He brought me juice. Then dinner. And throughout the night I dreamed a million dreams for fifteen hours of my children and how they have grown into people I not only only love, but I trust - and admire.

A parent's health challenge affects everyone involved. But mostly the children. As we journey into year three, I hold them so high I can barely see their eyes that wonder how much longer this could last. And I hold them close within my chest so deeply only God could set then free.

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