The Tohm Family Recovery Fund
Donation protected
“I need help.” These are the words that my husband whispered when I lifted his head from the water.
We had spent all morning cutting up scrap wood for burning in a bonfire. The clouds overhead prompted us to cover the pile of wood with plastic and head to the garage to wait out the impending storm. As we cleaned up in the garage, we realized that the rain was going to pass north of us. We decided to take a quick dip in the pool to cool off before heading inside to prepare lunch. I was in first. Every step down the ladder sent a shiver through my body as the water was quite chilly yet. As my body acclimated to the water temperature, I heard Don behind me on the deck. He was talking to our nephew and telling him how to make a large splash. I heard the splash and I turned around to see Don doing an abnormal paddle swim, but his head was not coming out of the water. I heard my nephew say, “Uncle Don, why are you swimming like that?”. For a split second I thought he was messing with the kids and I, but in an instant, I knew something was wrong. I swam across the pool to him and when I lifted his head from the water and asked if he was ok, those three words were what he struggled to get out.
I immediately pulled his head to my chest to stabilize his neck and yelled to Wesley, our 9 year old son, to go call 911. I could feel Don breathing but I could see the look of panic and desperation in his eyes. I struggled to stay calm, to reassure him that I had him. I cautiously moved his limp body over my knee and pinned him between my body and the edge of the pool. I could feel his weak arms trying to grasp around my waist, but there was no pressure. I looked at his face, pressed still against my chest, and he whispered to me, “I am so sorry.”
I knew in that moment that our lives were forever going to be changed. I did not know the extent of Don’s injury, but I knew it was not good. The girls came out of the house, on the phone with the 911 operator, and I coached them on how to answer questions and direct the first responders to our home. As all 5 kids stood at the edge of the pool, terrified but keeping relatively calm. Don, ever the optimist and protector, focused little on himself and 100% on trying to reassure the kids that everything was going to be ok.
This is the nightmare that keeps me from sleeping at night. The vision of pulling his head up from the water. The words, “I need help.” The terrified look in his eyes of the realization of what just happened. The fear in my children’s faces as they watched me hold their father’s life in my hands. The thought that had I not been there, in the water, that my husband may not be here. That he might have drowned. That one of the kids would have found him face down in the water.
The minutes/hours that followed his injury included an assist from the fire department out of the pool. A helicopter ride to the local acute trauma hospital. A neurosurgery to repair the C6/C7 vertebrae of his back to release the compression on his spinal cord. A very brief explanation from an ER Dr about things “not looking good”. A drive back home to have the heart wrenching conversation with our kids (16/14/9) to tell them that their Dad, their superhero, will be moving forward as a Quadriplegic with no movement or sensation from the upper chest down, if he makes it out of the surgery.
Fast forward 1 month from the initial injury and we are being sent home from the hospital. I thought that the worst day of my life was the day Don’s injury happened. I was wrong. The worst day of my life was the day I had to tell Don that he was being sent home from rehab. That our request, at Week 2, to be moved to a Spinal Cord Injury Specialized Rehabilitation facility has been declined not once, but twice, by our insurance company. I believe that the insurance company and the care team provided to us at the hospital have failed us. They have given up on us and have written Don off. The fear and anxiety in Don’s eyes, immediately after the injury, does not even compare to the grief in his eyes when he was told that we would be sent home without proper, spinal cord injury specialized rehabilitation. He is devastated and I feel like I have failed him.
We have now been home for almost 4 weeks. The amount of care that is required for Don is far more than I can handle on my own. Because I work for a small company and have not worked there a full year yet, I am not entitled to FMLA. I have been working full time since the day he was injured. They have been gracious enough to allow me to come and go every few hours to take care of Don’s bowel needs and check in on him every few hours. I am terrified to leave him alone with the kids, but I don’t really have a choice as I am the only income right now. The piles of medical bills are starting to come in on a daily basis. We are months away from Social Security help, if we get approved. I have no idea what I am going to do when the kids have to go back to school and I lose the only help that I have right now. I am covered in bruises from transferring his weight on my own. I rarely sleep because I fear I won’t hear him from a room away if he needs me. None of us have received any mental care to grieve what we have lost. I miss my husband, the kids miss their father. We need to regain some sense of normalcy in this never ending chaos.
So here is my plea to anyone who will listen and to anyone who has the means. To all those wonderful people who continually ask, “What can we do?” Well...“We need help!”
If you know me at all, you know how hard it is for me to ask. With Covid-19 limiting our options and social distancing happening for the foreseeable future, our only option left on the table for any kind of fundraiser is through social media. My husband needs the care and dignity that he deserves. He needs to be able to get out of the house safely, he needs proper transportation to be able to make it to his appointments and outpatient rehab, he needs a bed to sleep in that doesn’t leave sores on his body. I need help so I can continue to provide for Don and the kids the way that he was able to provide for us prior to his injury. Time to fight for proper rehabilitation and tools for him. Time to be his wife and not just his caretaker. The kids need Don and I to have help so we can go back to being parents and they can go back to being kids.
This was not a life curve that we expected nor were we prepared for. We are trying to make the best of the situation, but we need help to adjust to our new normal. Please put yourselves in our shoes for just a moment, and if you don’t have the means, please share our story. Every heart that our story reaches is further potential for us to be able to get the help we need. We are humbled by your kindness and generosity and are optimistic about what the future may hold for us.
With Much Love – The Tohm’s - Don, Kara, Grace, Maggie & Wesley
We had spent all morning cutting up scrap wood for burning in a bonfire. The clouds overhead prompted us to cover the pile of wood with plastic and head to the garage to wait out the impending storm. As we cleaned up in the garage, we realized that the rain was going to pass north of us. We decided to take a quick dip in the pool to cool off before heading inside to prepare lunch. I was in first. Every step down the ladder sent a shiver through my body as the water was quite chilly yet. As my body acclimated to the water temperature, I heard Don behind me on the deck. He was talking to our nephew and telling him how to make a large splash. I heard the splash and I turned around to see Don doing an abnormal paddle swim, but his head was not coming out of the water. I heard my nephew say, “Uncle Don, why are you swimming like that?”. For a split second I thought he was messing with the kids and I, but in an instant, I knew something was wrong. I swam across the pool to him and when I lifted his head from the water and asked if he was ok, those three words were what he struggled to get out.
I immediately pulled his head to my chest to stabilize his neck and yelled to Wesley, our 9 year old son, to go call 911. I could feel Don breathing but I could see the look of panic and desperation in his eyes. I struggled to stay calm, to reassure him that I had him. I cautiously moved his limp body over my knee and pinned him between my body and the edge of the pool. I could feel his weak arms trying to grasp around my waist, but there was no pressure. I looked at his face, pressed still against my chest, and he whispered to me, “I am so sorry.”
I knew in that moment that our lives were forever going to be changed. I did not know the extent of Don’s injury, but I knew it was not good. The girls came out of the house, on the phone with the 911 operator, and I coached them on how to answer questions and direct the first responders to our home. As all 5 kids stood at the edge of the pool, terrified but keeping relatively calm. Don, ever the optimist and protector, focused little on himself and 100% on trying to reassure the kids that everything was going to be ok.
This is the nightmare that keeps me from sleeping at night. The vision of pulling his head up from the water. The words, “I need help.” The terrified look in his eyes of the realization of what just happened. The fear in my children’s faces as they watched me hold their father’s life in my hands. The thought that had I not been there, in the water, that my husband may not be here. That he might have drowned. That one of the kids would have found him face down in the water.
The minutes/hours that followed his injury included an assist from the fire department out of the pool. A helicopter ride to the local acute trauma hospital. A neurosurgery to repair the C6/C7 vertebrae of his back to release the compression on his spinal cord. A very brief explanation from an ER Dr about things “not looking good”. A drive back home to have the heart wrenching conversation with our kids (16/14/9) to tell them that their Dad, their superhero, will be moving forward as a Quadriplegic with no movement or sensation from the upper chest down, if he makes it out of the surgery.
Fast forward 1 month from the initial injury and we are being sent home from the hospital. I thought that the worst day of my life was the day Don’s injury happened. I was wrong. The worst day of my life was the day I had to tell Don that he was being sent home from rehab. That our request, at Week 2, to be moved to a Spinal Cord Injury Specialized Rehabilitation facility has been declined not once, but twice, by our insurance company. I believe that the insurance company and the care team provided to us at the hospital have failed us. They have given up on us and have written Don off. The fear and anxiety in Don’s eyes, immediately after the injury, does not even compare to the grief in his eyes when he was told that we would be sent home without proper, spinal cord injury specialized rehabilitation. He is devastated and I feel like I have failed him.
We have now been home for almost 4 weeks. The amount of care that is required for Don is far more than I can handle on my own. Because I work for a small company and have not worked there a full year yet, I am not entitled to FMLA. I have been working full time since the day he was injured. They have been gracious enough to allow me to come and go every few hours to take care of Don’s bowel needs and check in on him every few hours. I am terrified to leave him alone with the kids, but I don’t really have a choice as I am the only income right now. The piles of medical bills are starting to come in on a daily basis. We are months away from Social Security help, if we get approved. I have no idea what I am going to do when the kids have to go back to school and I lose the only help that I have right now. I am covered in bruises from transferring his weight on my own. I rarely sleep because I fear I won’t hear him from a room away if he needs me. None of us have received any mental care to grieve what we have lost. I miss my husband, the kids miss their father. We need to regain some sense of normalcy in this never ending chaos.
So here is my plea to anyone who will listen and to anyone who has the means. To all those wonderful people who continually ask, “What can we do?” Well...“We need help!”
If you know me at all, you know how hard it is for me to ask. With Covid-19 limiting our options and social distancing happening for the foreseeable future, our only option left on the table for any kind of fundraiser is through social media. My husband needs the care and dignity that he deserves. He needs to be able to get out of the house safely, he needs proper transportation to be able to make it to his appointments and outpatient rehab, he needs a bed to sleep in that doesn’t leave sores on his body. I need help so I can continue to provide for Don and the kids the way that he was able to provide for us prior to his injury. Time to fight for proper rehabilitation and tools for him. Time to be his wife and not just his caretaker. The kids need Don and I to have help so we can go back to being parents and they can go back to being kids.
This was not a life curve that we expected nor were we prepared for. We are trying to make the best of the situation, but we need help to adjust to our new normal. Please put yourselves in our shoes for just a moment, and if you don’t have the means, please share our story. Every heart that our story reaches is further potential for us to be able to get the help we need. We are humbled by your kindness and generosity and are optimistic about what the future may hold for us.
With Much Love – The Tohm’s - Don, Kara, Grace, Maggie & Wesley
Organizer
Kara Tohm
Organizer
Manawa, WI