My son should not have to be in this situation. 

My name is Lyle Ingraham, and I live in Tyler, Texas, with my wife, Winnie (Winifred) and two of our three children.  Our children are ages 17, 14, and 9.  Two of them live at home with us; the middle one is in a nursing home.  It's a long story.

Our son suffered a stroke two years ago when he was twelve.  It was a massive one.  Strokes are very rare in children, but they do happen on oaccasion,such was in our case.  Our son was left unable to talk or walk; he is in a wheelchair or stays in his hospital bed.  He can see and hear, but that's about it.  He cannot feed himself and he requires twenty four hour care.

My wife has Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, and arthritis; she cannot care for a child who is so severely handicapped.  It's too much on her (and on us).  She stays home, where she receives a small disability check every month.  I work two jobs trying to keep up with the bils (especially the medical ones, which always seem to pile up fast ... too fast for my liking).  My mother, who lives across the street from us, acts as the two remaining children's babysitter and does an awesome job.  She's also there in case Winnie needs something.

Anyway, our son was perfectly healthy, just like his brother and sister, until two days before Christmas, which was when he suffered his stroke.  He was outside, helping me with the last of the Christmas lights, when he suddenly screamed, grabbed his head, and fell over onto the ground.  It scared the holy hell out of me, and I had Karie, our daughter, call an ambulance; something was definitely wrong with Matthew.

Matthew was then rushed to the hospital.  He was unconscious and not responding.  It was beyond terrifying; we didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it was bad.  Very bad.

After what seemed like hours, a doctor came out to talk with us about our son, who was still back in the emergency room.  The doctor was blunt as he delivered the news.  Our (once) perfectly healthy son had suffered a "massive cerebral vascular accident" (i.e., a stroke); there were no guarantees as to whether he would ever recover, he told us. 

For weeks (months?), our son hovered between life and death.  He lay in a hospital bed, hooked up to every kind of tube or monitoring device imaginable.  It killed us to see Matthew looking like warmed over death.  It was one of the worst things that could have ever happened to our family.

Eventually, Matthew came out of the coma, but the damage had been done.  He couldn't talk or walk; he was totally paralyzed and needed round-the-clock care.  We knew that Winnie, my wife, wasn't physically able to care for our middle child, so we made the heartrending decision to have him placed into a nursing home, where more skilled, competant people could care for his needs around the clock.

That way, if something were to happen to him (God forbid), there'd be the availablity of a doctor or a nurse at a moment's notice.

We have visited our son now for the past two years.  He is now fourteen.  He sometimes acknowledges our presence by smililng widely or grunting happily, but that's about all he can do.  He is fed by a tube in his belly (or in his nose), and medications are delivered via his tube (or by IVs).  He has to be bathed, changed, fed just like a big, overgrown infant.  It hurts because we remember the old Matt, who used to joke around, play football or baseball, and spend hours skateboarding, riding his bike, or hanging out with his friends at the mall every Saturday.

There is some speculation as to what is going to happen to Matthew.  We don't have to worry about his bills (Medicare takes care of the lion's share; what we DO pay is very little), but what if the nursing home he is currently at shuts down? Where is he going to go then?  To another nursing home, or back to the hospital?  We can't have him back here; we would love to, believe me, but as I said, my wife's physical problems prevent it, as do my many hours on my two jobs.  (I'm hardly ever home.)

It's a sad fact of life that we are facing.  I would not want to wish this kind of life on anybody!

I will update you from time to time about Matthew (and us), so this isn't the last time you will hear from me.  Until later, take care and keep us in your prayers; we are all having a very difficult time!  Thank you in advance!

~Lyle Ingraham.