Ethan and Kara Lehman Story

On October 20, 2018, my son Ethan was critically injured due to a falling tree branch. At the time his grandparents, my husband’s father and stepmother were watching him for the weekend. They had gone to the woods to collect cut firewood in the morning, took a break for lunch and then headed back to the woods to finish up for the day. As they pulled into the area that they had been working in, Ethan hopped out of the truck to play in the woods, as he did all morning. The truck became stuck in the mud and when his grandparents got out of the truck to assess the situation they realized that Ethan was on the ground with a tree limb laying across his head.

My understanding is that his grandma ran to the closest house, which was quite some distance. His grandpa stayed with Ethan talking to him after the branch was removed from this skull. Soon after 911 was called and the ambulance arrived they used a 4-wheeler to transport him from the woods to the ambulance, then took him to a field where he was airlifted by ThedaStar to Marshfield Hospital. While all of this was happening, I was an hour and a half away visiting my brother with his kids. When I stopped for gas on the way home my cell phone rang. I didn’t answer it because it wasn’t a number I knew. That was a call from my stepmother-in-law letting me know that Ethan was hurt, but alive. That is literally the voicemail I listened to - “Ethan is hurt, they are taking him by helicopter, but he is alive”. Immediately I was sick to my stomach, gathering my niece and nephews up and heading to our place to drop them off. In the meantime I had called my Dad to pick them up, so I could head to the hospital.

First I called Aspirus to see if they had a juvenile coming in via helicopter, they couldn’t find any information, but said it may be Marshfield Clinic Hospital. That was my next call - yes they had a juvenile flying in and it was Ethan. They had been trying to get a hold of me without success. I don’t think we had seen any providers at Marshfield Clinic prior and I’m sure that was why they couldn’t figure out how to contact us. Then I made the call to my husband, Ethan’s dad. He works as an engineer for the railroad and they can’t have a cellphone on while on duty. So, I called the train police and the depot he works from, no one seemed to be able to help me find him. I did the next best thing and left a voicemail telling him to get to Marshfield Hospital as soon as possible. Next was a call to my mother-in-law to let her know I had no idea what happened, but it was bad. Lastly, I called my mom, who is out of state. She told me not to worry too much, as we didn’t know anything, but we both knew that this was a terrible situation.

As I ran into the ER, they seemed to know why I was there. I went to the desk and explained that I was here because my son was airlifted here. They were very good with me. It isn’t easy to get the information you need from someone who is panicking. They let me back, just as my husband, Paul, arrived. There he was, laying on a gurney. His little nine year old body was covered in dried blood. The swelling on his head had started and his eyes were shut. They had placed tubes in his nose and throat due to him inhaling blood and having a respiratory arrest. It is an awful sight, especially when it is your kid. I can’t explain what I felt or thought at that point. I was numb. Paul nearly passed out and had to sit. This was not something we had ever thought would happen. These things happen to other people, not us. I signed all the releases to send him into emergency surgery and went back to the desk to give our insurance information. This was the beginning of a lifelong journey. That night was spent in the ER waiting room, curled in a chair with Ethan’s stuffed Pikachu and favorite blanket. I remember breathing in his scent and being very uncertain of what was to come.

At some point I had fallen asleep, as did the family members that stayed with us. I was awoken by the neurosurgeon staring down at me. It had been an eight hour surgery and somewhat successful. They removed a portion of his skull, placed a trach and removed a tooth from Ethan’s lung. He was still in critical condition and was going to be sent to PICU. We headed up to the unit and waited for Ethan to arrive from recovery. Within three days he was back in the OR, due to increased intracranial pressures. They removed more of his skull and a portion of his frontal lobe, a few hours later, he returned to his room. The one thing I remember as being the most difficult was that I couldn’t touch him. He was so fragile, filled with tubes and IV’s and on a ventilator. As a Mom, I just wanted to fix him and I couldn’t. We had no control over this situation.

He spent 2 months in the PICU, by his side Paul and I were there, as long as we could be due to work. Paul had used all of his PTO and had to return to work a month after the accident. I had taken a short term disability and was able to be there with him for those 2 months. At some point I did stay at the Ronald McDonald House, where I had a room and a hot shower. Paul refused to leave and stayed in his room on a fold-out mattress. Whenever Paul got off of work he came straight to the hospital. We took turns running home to feed the cat and check on things. I will never forget those long car rides back and forth, it was a moment of escape and almost worse because all I could do was think about everything. We were extremely involved in Ethan’s care. The majority of his personal care was done by me. They had a washer and dryer on the peds floor that we could use, so all laundry for Ethan was done there. Every morning and evening they did rounds, which we were encouraged to attend. They appreciated any questions or concerns we had and it gave time to address them. Everything from his medications to his nutrition was discussed. It made us feel like we had a little control back.

Physical Therapy started strangely soon after his injury. At first it was just sitting him on the side of the bed, which was like running a marathon for him. He eventually graduated to a wheelchair that reclined to allow for a different position. Around the same time they began to pull back on pain medications and the brain storming started. I wasn’t sure if that was a typical behavior of brain injury patients, at the time I assumed it was, because no one else seemed surprised. It was one of the most difficult things to witness. The thrashing and whaling was nearly unbearable. It further broke my already broken heart.

Thanksgiving our family brought a meal to the hospital, so we could be together. I ended up spending the majority of that day/evening cuddled beside Ethan in his bed, holding him. That was one thing that seemed to settle him. At this point he had been removed from the vent, a gastronomy tube was placed, he had been working on “speaking” with his trach. The sounds were horrific. He didn’t make words, just high-pitched cries. We understood this was part of healing, but it was a lot to deal with. First we can’t touch him because he was so broken and now it is better when you are there, but it is so hard to hear and watch the fight within him. I felt bad for the staff and other patients that had to hear this screaming all day and night.

One night Paul and I decided we would go home and sleep. As soon as we got into our place I received a call from Ethan’s nurse. She felt it would be better if we came back and sat with him, because he was really having a difficult time. Paul stayed home, he had to work the next day and I went back. When I settled in on the little fold-out mattress she asked why we weren’t looking for placement. Placement? I was utterly confused, why would we place him? She explained that Milwaukee had an in-patient rehab for brain injuries and maybe we should look into that. I spent the rest of the night silently crying in my fold-out mattress. The next day I was getting Ethan ready, getting him in the wheelchair and washing him up when the head of the PICU asked to speak with me. He explained that they can do in-patient rehab at Marshfield Children’s Hospital and we didn’t need to transfer him anywhere else. Then he explained that we were in PICU for so long because Ethan needed extra care with his medications, it was too much for the floor to handle. I listened in silence as tears fell down my face. I assume one of the other staff had overhead Ethan’s nurse and told the provider. We never had that nurse again. I know she spoke out of concern, but it wasn’t her place and it made an already emotional time harder.

Eventually the medications were stabilized and Ethan was transferred to the peds floor after two long months in PICU. It was an exciting day! He no longer had IV’s or a ventilator. The tube feeding continued, and he continued to have therapy to re-learn how to swallow. He was becoming more mobile, able to roll and bear weight for a minimal amount of time. Being in bed for two months had weakened his muscles and now was the time for hard work to regain those losses. They made him a 1:1, so at night I would go home to sleep and a staff member would stay with him to make sure he stayed in bed. After I went back to work and he was still in the hospital they would stay when he was sleeping or not in rehab related activities. I worked remotely and went home to sleep until 4:00 A.M., then I would get up and work until 10:00 A.M. and immediately after I would head to the hospital to sit with him until 9:00 P.M., drive the hour home and do it all again each day for two months. I still did all of his personal care, put his clothes out for the next day, cut his hair on Saturday mornings and did laundry on Sunday. We had a little routine.

Rehab was intense and our insurance would pay as long as he was making progress. They had a little town on the upper floor where he practiced walking up and down stairs, getting into a car, sitting and standing from a chair and those types of things. At night we would go up and play house. He would show me the things he liked and it was a bit of reprieve from the stress we were dealing with. They also had a big screen TV in the main area and they let us bring in our own DVDs to watch, which was a big part of our day. Everything normal we did was new and real world practice for Ethan. Child Life was a huge part of his day at the hospital. At 4:00P.M. everyday he had an activity with the staff. Sometimes we went to a lab downstairs that had lights, a hammock, vibrating mat and other interactive devices. He fell asleep on the vibrating mat and in the hammock a fair bit. Playing games was a part of his rehab. He became very good at Jenga, it helped steady his hand and increase his concentration. I am sure this is why he enjoys board games as much as he does now. We figured out how to do things that felt like play and not like work. The Child Life team is a support to families that are inpatient. They do things like using iPads to distract from an IV being placed to using dolls to explain procedures to children. Many times they used guides from therapists and providers to support or reinforce practices of treatment. In the Teen Room, they had a basketball game where you throw the basketball in the hoop to help strengthen muscles and help regain eye-hand coordination. They also had musical instruments and video games. Ethan spent a lot of time in the Teen Room, it acted like our living room in the hospital. The lab downstairs had strings of lights he could touch, yet it was a very low stimulation area. Every day he did a craft or activity, it allowed a routine and schedule within the chaos of being hospitalized. We developed relationships that helped process the magnitude of this life-changing event.

Ethan had access to a tricycle that physical therapy provided and he would ride up and down the hallways several times a day. It was fun for him, but also a lot of hard work. When he wasn’t in some sort of therapy we walked until he was too tired. Paul and I would run next to him as he rode his tricycle. Considering the fact that he was hospitalized he had a fair bit of freedom. We often went down to the cafeteria for meals to try new foods that he could tolerate. The roof had a mini playground that we would go to and get fresh air. It really did become a home away from home.

Music Therapy was a fairly new concept to me when it was introduced. I would have never thought Ethan prior to the accident would have enjoyed that, but reborn Ethan certainly did. They had criteria to follow and goals to meet. When he met goals they made new goals. They played drums, maracas, bells, whistles, thongophone (pvc pipes that are hit with foam pads) and ukulele, among many other instruments. Through the Ukulele Kids Club, he was donated a red ukulele and learned how to play it. He enjoyed it so much that after discharge he was the first patient to receive outpatient music therapy. They came to our house once a week and played music with Ethan. We also found someone locally that taught ukulele and enrolled him in lessons. For maybe four years he continued with the ukulele before he grew out of it and lost interest.

One thing I remember is that a psychologist/psychiatrist saw us once a week. It is funny that I really thought they were there for Ethan, which they were, but I leaned on her heavily. I was honest and true to what was happening and she listened and often went to the main providers with issues we were having or concerns we had. I didn’t realize at the time how wonderfully helpful she was and how much I needed that time with her. It allowed me to be comfortable with therapy after he left the accident.

After two months of PICU and an additional month of inpatient rehab, it was very hard to say “good-bye”. I have a healthcare background and did a fair majority of Ethan’s personal care. I was very comfortable with tube feedings and caring for him in our home. What I didn’t realize is how lonely it was once we left. It was like moving away from your family. The support we had when he was home was minimal. I’m not someone who is capable of asking for help. I just handle it but that gets to be a lot when you are also the primary caregiver. We didn’t have a grandparent that stayed with him so I could do shopping. No one volunteered to take him, so Paul and I could have a moment alone. Honestly, this was partly due to me having a slight trust issue with him staying anywhere without us. Once he was out of the hospital we were on our own. Paul works hours and days that are not consistent or regular. He was and is gone for a day or two at a time and tends to work nights, requiring sleep during the day. His shifts are beyond a typical eight hours. It was me who took Ethan to his multiple week therapy appointments an hour’s drive away. I was the one who drove him an hour to Marshfield to the doctor appointments that never ceased. Everything was on me and I was still trying to work, now part-time. It was an incredibly stressful time. Looking back I am not sure how I did it, but I did and that is what matters. It is funny to me how many people came to his bedside and made, what I call deathbed promises. They prayed and said that they would go to church if he survived. hat they would be there for him when he got out of the hospital. All sorts of things were promised. It wasn’t necessarily lies, it was that people prioritize themselves. I am sure I didn’t ask for help, because I struggle with that. In a perfect world I wish someone would have just showed up and spent time with him. I took him to see all his family to make sure they knew what was happening with him. Primarily, due to Ethan’s injury I have become much better at communicating and being less tolerant of people’s inability to prioritize us. This is with family and friends, but also with providers. That is why I will always say that his accident was not all bad. Do I wish I would have changed things on October 20, 2018 and prevented this from happening? Absolutely, without hesitation. However, in my soul I feel like it happened for a reason and maybe that keeps me sane.

After nearly 6 years of healing emotionally and physically I think Ethan is doing the best we could have hoped for. He is an amazing human, with a positive outlook and a strong spirit. His memory is minimal prior to the incident and I see that as a blessing. I often wish I didn’t remember who he used to be. It hurts in ways you only know if you have had a similar situation. When we came home from the hospital I removed every picture of him from our daily life. Every physical reminder that he existed prior to the injury was put in boxes and put away. It hurts to look at them. I decided that cold and rainy day in October was the day he died. At the time I was ashamed that I thought those things. Now I embrace that moment of realizing he was never going to be the little boy that was dropped off for the weekend at his grandparents. We left one child and received another child. To this day I try not to think about him before and it is getting harder to remember the Lego, Minecraft, Pokemon, bike riding and fun little boy we lost. On the same hand we have learned to love this new version.

At one point I joined a Traumatic Brain Injury group on Facebook. I rarely commented or included myself. It was heartbreaking to see all of the kids that were dying from complications of their injuries. I felt guilty that our kid made it and was thriving. We have never met another kid that had a traumatic brain injury. I had to exit the group, because I felt terrible. Often Paul and I will look at each other and ask “Is this typical adolescence or brain injury?” Then we see kids his age and it often is age and not as much injury. He seems behind emotionally, with a lack of interest in having a girlfriend or similar relationship. Academically, he is behind in reading and spelling, but currently is in regular classes with unmodified work loads and is coping. He does have an assistant that takes notes for him and he has a longer amount of time to complete tests, but is fairly close to “normal”.

Sometimes we struggle, not with Ethan, but with others that don’t understand a brain injury. This past summer of 2024 Ethan joined Camp Glacier Hollow through the YMCA. He has been difficult beyond words and has been a journey I never thought I would have to take. I have put a bit of a block on all the terrible things. At this point I struggle to remember details on some things. The brain has this wonderful way of protecting you in that way. Life goes on, you have to make a choice to get up and make the best of it. My personality has never been that of positivity, but when you change your mindset to look at the good, it really does make things better. I have also found that thinking of all the “what ifs” is detrimental to progress. It doesn’t matter, this is the reality you have now. Enjoying every little victory, whether it is being able to tie a shoe again or ride a bike, is important and worthy of celebration. Ethan may never be that kid from before, but he is himself and that is important.

We have accepted who he is and we work daily to make sure he will someday live independently and be a successful adult whatever way that is.

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