A Few Words from Brian

A GREAT article, Keeter Time, by Dave Pond is a featured story this month on ncsu.edu website. Please be sure to check it out.

Also, some of you may have received the below message from Brian in an email. We thought those not on his contact list might like to hear from him too so we've posted it below:

Hey Everybody!

I want again to thank everyone that has & continues to reach out to me following my accident. I continue to be amazed by the tremendous amount of support I receive from family & friends.

Unable to be proactive in my recovery has been very tough both mentally & physically. I am extremely excited that I have finally recovered from secondary issues that have prevented me from taking a very aggressive & proactive route in my recovery. I am ready to get started & confident that nobody will work harder then me at the therapies I am about to begin!

October is going to be a busy & exciting month. I will be moving about 25 miles or so north of Charlotte to be close to the Race to Walk therapy gym in Mooresville. At Race to Walk, I plan on building strength working with therapists & on my own 4-5 days a week. I hope to build up as much strength as I can & make as many gains as possible to maximize the time spent at my next stop at the Shepherd Center in Atlanta. The Shepherd Center has a wonderfully renowned outpatient therapy program, Beyond Therapy, which helps people with injuries like mine attempt to recover function. They have many success stories from people with injuries similar to mine. My father got me admitted & on the waiting list shortly after getting injured. He also toured the facility a few months ago. There was an eight month wait when I signed up & I anticipate beginning there in early 2010.

As most of you know, NC State has offered to help raise money to cover the tremendous out-of-pocket expenses associated with spinal cord injury therapy & recoveries that are not covered by insurance. I invite & encourage everyone to attend the Red Rally this Friday, October 16th. I definitely plan to come out in support of NC State family & hope also to see many of you there.

With the Red Rally coming up, I thought I should address one concern. Some people inquiring about donating to NTAF on my behalf have expressed some confusion regarding where the monies go. Just to be clear, approximately 98% of tax-deductible donations received in my honor go into my personal NTAF account to be used towards paying for progressive therapies such as Race to Walk & Shepherd Center, modifications to a vehicle so that I can begin driving again, & other vital expenses that insurance does not cover (The other 2% goes towards administrative costs & salaried patient fund coordinators.).

I appreciate everyone that has donated & please know that every little bit helps so much. I know times are tough for a lot of people but I cannot tell you how the small donations from many add up to be such a tremendous help to my family & me.

Again, I look forward to seeing you all at Reynolds Coliseum this Friday!

Sincerely,
Brian Keeter

As always, thank you so much to all the family, friends, & supporters who continue to encourage & assist Brian & our family through this!

NCSU Red Rally @ Reynolds

Come out in support NC State Athletics & Brian!

Truly Good News

As you may recall, Brian was facing three planned surgeries to address secondary injuries associated with SCI. While the first surgery did not yield the results we had hope to receive, the genuine great news to be shared is an unexpected and dramatic healing of Brian’s once dangerous pressure wound. It was only five weeks ago that we had made a special trip back home to arrange for reconstructive plastic surgery at Duke’s Raleigh Hospital. It was to be the second of three planned surgeries for various problems. Brian’s persistent pressure wound had shown little signs of healing during its six months of existence, despite one therapeutic approach after another. The wound prevented Brian from doing much of anything, except for infrequent short outings from the apartment. Too little face to face social interaction was taking a toll. Even a loner like me was finding it more and more difficult to take. Therapy dog “Rocco”, all 110 lbs of him, was a big help. In my humble view, dogs are one of God’s most wonderful creations (I guess that is why our family has spent a life time having them; we currently have seven dogs in our extended family, assuming that Brian’s sister, Leah, has not rescued yet another one.).


We are truly blessed to have this unexpected healing of such a persistent pressure wound. We initially had been told that surgery should be done as quickly possible with little to no hope offered that the wound would otherwise heal. Moreover, successful healing from surgery could not be guaranteed. I can't recall exactly why, but Brian opted to wait another few weeks. Yes, there were a few changes in treatment strategies, but there were also earnest prayers, specifically asking for this wound to heal.


What to make of it all? Each of us will have an answer, even if it is simply – who knows. As for me, the dad, here’s what it means to me (And it took a dear friend to help me with this. Mike C., I do thank you.): It means that I should continue to work hard, but have the confidence that God will take care of me and mine. Can you understand what that means to someone like me, someone who is so unwilling to let go? I’ve got to go hard and try, but being more confident that God is there taking care of us all, that I can do. In fact, I have already learned to let go to the point that there are now some moments of rest and peace. And I do so very much thank God for that, and I will strive to find the right balance that He wants from me.


In closing, I thank you for taking time to read this blog, and for your support and concern for Brian. And thank you NC State, for providing Brian with a fund-raising opportunity at the RED Rally Event in Reynolds.

Bright Moments

There’s been little good news to share. So, Brian and I chose to wait and post until something turned for the better, knowing that rehashing tough times can just get old. In the interim for Brian, there were nine days of chest pains, rapid heart rate, difficult breathing, and near zero energy. Hours spent under observation in the hospital with one diagnostic test after another systematically ruled out a life threatening lung clot or a damaged heart. After days of testing, we were waiting in the hospital room for the final lab, which would tell us if Brian had to stay or could leave. We knew he had a robust non-contagious infection with fluid around his heart. But had the infection gotten into his heart?

So we waited, trying to find some humor to the events from the past several days. At the head of a short list was the ever present chasm, separating the laid back patient from his anxious Dad, who is always questioning the medical staff. We have our routine, while I’m parking the car, Brian typically debriefs those wearing white about Dad, advising them to “humor me”. Admittedly, I do arrive at the scene armed with my well-organized diagnostic notes, probing conjectures, and an acquired knowledge from the Google School of Medicine. It doesn't hurt either that my handwriting is easily mistaken for the genuine scratching of a bono-fide physician, since I do insists that my notes be added to Brian’s medical folder for attending physicians to read.

As we waited, neither one of us were placing bets on the potential of heart infection which would have required yet another stay in the hospital. We just wanted to get out of there. The powerful antibiotics, via IVs, were working. I knew that because Brian’s jabs about my appearance were increasing. It was good to get him back, so I pulled my pants up even higher toward my chest and rolled my socks as high as they would go in a geeky celebration of his emerging energy.

So caught up were we in our trading of jabs that the doctor had to ask for quiet to give us the lab results. When you have spent the last 10 months waiting for the “other shoe to drop”, the drama of it all becomes tempered. Oh yeah, the lab results – good news, “Go home, there is no heart infection; the fluid on the heart is residual fluid left over from the trauma of the accident.” On our way out, a young nurse came up and handed me my diagnostic notes. I couldn’t get a read on her facial expression since her eyes were locked on Brian the whole time she was talking to me. She did say, “The attending doctor thought your notes were actually helpful. But next time Mr. Keeter, please sign them so that we nurses don’t get caught up trying to figure out who wrote them.”

As the odd couple of son and Dad exited, I thought what a good ending to yet another nine days in the world of SCI recovery. In the midst of darkness, we truly keep looking for the brighter moments.