Hi there, my name is Chanel Jester and my dad, Jim Bristol, has been paralyzed and in the ICU/LTAC for almost 6 months battling Guillain-Barre Syndrome (GBS). My dad was unfortunately diagnosed with GBS after receiving a flu shot, in hopes of keeping my newborn son extra safe and healthy during the winter season. His health insurance will no longer cover his hospital stay, so he will be coming home in a critical physical state. The hospital bills that my father has accumulated, as well as the ongoing monthly cost for care, therapy, and supplies for an undetermined amount of time, are an overwhelming burden for my parents. I can only pray that with the support of our community, we can work together to alleviate this financial burden and allow my parents to focus on the physical and emotional healing that they deserve. If you would, please read my father's story below. I can only scratch the surface of how traumatizing this situation has been, but also how thankful we are for the support we have received thus far. From the bottom of my heart, I ask you to share & pass along our story, continuously pray, and consider donating as it would be a huge blessing to our family.

Current accumulated medical bills: $20,000

Estimated future costs:

Home Care Assistant: $4,000/month- approximately 6 months

Prescriptions & Medical Supplies: $400/month

Wheelchair-accessible transportation as needed (when off ventilator): $200/trip

RSI device for nerve stimulation: $2,000

Fully electric hospital bed and mattress: $1,000

Wheelchair/handicap accessible bathroom remodel: $10,000

Jim’s Story:

On November 21st of 2022, my perfectly healthy father woke up with a tingling sensation in his toes and fingers. While getting dressed, he experienced a lack of control of his hands. Within a few short hours, his knees were buckling. My mom, Maria Bristol, knew something was wrong. She struggled to get him into the car and rushed him to the ER. When they arrived at the ER at 2 pm, he could no longer use his legs. Later that afternoon, my mother called me and said she was at the ER with dad and not to worry, knowing I was a new and overwhelmed mother caring for my 8-week-old at the time. In the background of the phone call, I heard the doctor tell my dad he was “paralyzed.” At that point I knew something was terribly wrong. I rushed to the hospital, praying that this was a misunderstanding the whole way there. When I arrived at the ER, my dad no longer had control of his lower body or abdomen. I could see how scared he was through his forced lightheartedness, trying to be strong while also completely helpless. After the neurologist spoke to my father, he explained to us that his paralysis aligned with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, a devastating disease that destroys the nervous system. He explained that this was most likely caused by the flu shot my father had received the week prior. The doctor said it was imperative to begin testing and treatment for GBS immediately. After a spinal tap, MRIs and CAT scans, my father was moved to the ICU. The paralysis was ascending rapidly. By 10 pm, my father laid in bed unable to press the “nurse call" button. My mother and I were forced to leave that night, confused and terrified. We knew nothing about GBS or the lifelong impact that this would have on my father and my family as a whole.

The next morning, we went to the ICU with as much positivity as we could muster. Unfortunately, we were faced with the crippling reality that the paralysis had reached my father's diaphragm. We were told to say our "I love you’s" as they were about to fully sedate and intubate him. The image of my dad saying goodbye to my mom, unsure if he would ever wake up again, will stain me for life. For the rest of Thanksgiving week, my mom and I sat by my unconscious father’s side anxiously awaiting any form of movement. With zero sedation, my father was totally unresponsive. We begged the medical team for answers but soon learned that the staff in this particular ICU had little to no experience or understanding of GBS. Day by day, we were on a new rollercoaster of emotions. One moment we were told that he would fully recover in two weeks, and the next we were told he was brain dead. Each doctor, physician's assistant, and nurse had a differing story that would drastically change by the hour, revealing their raw uncertainty about my father’s recovery. My mother was even told by the ICU neurologist that he “would explain what is happening to my father, but my mother wouldn’t understand.” We watched as that doctor made the decision to remove my father’s IV for hydration, nutrition, and medication with zero explanation, (completely giving up on him) when he was still alive inside of his fully paralyzed body. 48 hours passed, with no honest explanation as to why he was disconnected from all support, excluding the ventilator. With our full dependence on God and the support of family and friends, we fought for my father’s right to receive humane care, day by day.

On December 4th, my mom saw my dad’s head moving fractionally. Two days later an eyelid opened. We waited and prayed over him, thanking God for each glimmer of hope we were given when most of his medical team told us there was none. We were advised by a family friend in the medical field to transfer him to UT Southwestern ICU, where he would be cared for by a team that specializes in neurological disorders. On December 7th, my father transferred. During his stay at UT, the paralysis continued to descend. We were able to communicate with him through head movements and to “yes and no” questions. Soon, we created a system where my father nodded to the correct letters of the alphabet, spelling out words that communicated his needs, wants, and fears. As you can imagine, this form of communication was filled with errors and misunderstandings, causing frustration and pain for my father and our family.

An EMG was performed to measure my father’s muscular response to nerve stimulation. The results indicated that he had no sensory-motor abilities from the shoulders down. Again, we were told to prepare for the mobility of his limbs to never return. Shortly after that day, on December 20th, my father was transferred to a long-term care facility in Dallas. He was placed in their ICU unit and is still there to date. Throughout his stay, he has faced countless complications, such as having pneumonia several times, ICU delirium, septic shock, and being seconds away from passing when the airway in his trach was clogged.

Although many weeks have been filled with life-threatening setbacks, doubt, and tears, we can’t help but notice how many miracles God continues to work through my dad and in our lives. He now has full function of his face and neck, can move his shoulders, lift his elbows up off the bed, move his arms side to side, arch his back, and minimally rotate his legs in and out. He is very close to being fully off of the ventilator, breathing and speaking on his own with ease. We are so thankful for the progress that my dad has made and can only hope for it to multiply. We also pray that his mental trauma can be wiped clean. This experience has changed our family’s perspective on how precious life is and reminded us of our purpose here on Earth. We have grown so much closer as a family and have learned that it’s okay to ask for and accept help. My family, my husband’s family, friends, new friends, and many medical staff members have shown us real love through their actions that we are forever grateful for. There is a 1 in 1.5 million chance of contracting GBS. Although my father has felt unlucky at times, he continues to rely on God and trust in His plan. He even continues to throw in cheesy dad jokes from time to time. I’m excited for my son and his Pawpaw to make up for their lost days together. I pray that one day my dad can take Brees fishing and build circuit boards with him, as he did with me.

Thank you so much for considering supporting my family.

With love,

Chanel Jester