Adventure With Jonny

I hear something different.

My adult son is a wheelchair user. He cannot transfer or evacuate on his own. He’s 6 feet tall and about 180 pounds. I’m 5’2” and 120 pounds. I cannot carry him.

So every time we fly and I listen to the emergency instructions, I’m aware of something most passengers probably never have to think about: in a true emergency, I cannot get my son out by myself.

I think the same thing in a hotel or other building when the emergency instructions say not to use the elevator and to take the stairs.

He can’t use the stairs. I can’t carry him.

We travel anyway. We choose to live our lives, go places and have experiences together, knowing that some risks are greater for us.

But the reality is that in an emergency, we may be completely dependent on someone else being there who is physically able and willing to help us get him out.

And if no one is?

I may find myself facing something most parents never have to imagine: being unable to get my son out and having to decide whether to leave him there alone or stay with him.

That is a reality I carry with me when we travel. It doesn’t stop us from living our lives. But it is there.

And it’s part of what I hear every time someone says, “In the event of an emergency…”

Apples, picnics, and friends

Caring for someone with a severe brain injury can change nearly every part of life, including the life of the person providing the care.

Some of that weight is visible. Much of it isn’t.

It’s the 24/7 responsibility. The medical needs. The constant planning and problem-solving. The uncertainty. The grief for what has changed while still deeply loving the person who is here.

It can also mean losing pieces of your own life along the way, a career, financial independence, friendships, hobbies, events, and time with other children or grandchildren.

Your own health can begin to pay a price, too.

And behind everything can be a question that is difficult to put down:

What happens to them if something happens to me?

No sympathy needed or portrayed as a hero. Caregivers don’t need another expectation to be “strong” or “resilient”.

I’m sharing it because this part of severe brain injury deserves to be seen, understood, and supported.

Caregiving can come from profound love.
Love doesn’t make the weight disappear.

When you find your son’s apples at Apple Hill 😂🍎
Jonathan 🤝 Jonathan Apples

🍎🍂

We went to check out Jenkinson Lake today. It reminds me of a small less developed Lake Tahoe, the colors of the lake.
On the way home we found an Indian pizza place where we tried the tandoori chicken pizza.

We spent the day exploring San Francisco together. 🚆🌉

We took the train into the city, grabbed Jonny’s favorite avocado vanilla shake at Joe & The Juice, wandered through the Ferry Building Marketplace, enjoyed the bay views, and, of course, couldn’t leave without stopping at Dandelion Chocolate for a sweet treat. 🍫

Security detail this week at FBC Davis Kids Camp.

Instagram

A good day