The deadline drew near. Go, no go. That was the million-dollar question. Our commitment to comply with what we perceived would be the level of function and quality of life, that Matt would want, was the foundation of many talks. Individual viewpoints and preferences on how that could best be achieved varied considerably. We endlessly grappling with what level of recovery we could reasonably expect for Matt. Would he be able to walk, communicate effectively, drive, work .. … And if he never became independent, what would happen when his dad and I were no longer able to take care of him? Would his siblings be able, or even willing to take on this arduous and long-term responsibility? And guiltily, Mike and I also pondered how this would impact our golden years.

Personally, as I looked to God for guidance, I found myself in a tug-of-war opposing His urging to relinquish my hold on Matt’s life. Trusting God didn’t infer that I could keep Matt. Each time I tried to obey I quickly reneged on my commitment—a boomerang prayer that never quite made it out of earth’s atmosphere. But in my heart, I knew putting God in control was the best thing to do--and so--

knowing time was running out, I chose to release my stranglehold on Matt’s future, prayed “thy will to be done,” and cast my prayer heavenward—no strings attached.

In time, my family and I turned from seeking predictions about Matt’s future to seeking answers to elucidate and illuminate our path forward. Ryan suggested rather than asking the medical staff the hallmark question, “How much better will Matt get?”, should we direct them to respond to a statement that declares the minimal level of function we felt Matt would want? For example, “We think Matt would want greater than a 50% chance of recovering enough function to live independently. What do you think?” The six of us turned our attention to considering this unique approach to our quandary and found it had merit.

Reaching a consensus took much deliberation. Mike struggled the most with the fear that Matt would not recover enough function to be independent and happy, or worse yet that he might be in a vegetative state. I certainly didn’t want that for Matt either. Mike preferred to err on the side of caution rather than too much optimism, whereas I was afraid of letting Matt down if he had the potential to pull through. Our children carefully navigate the emotionally charged debate between their parents. Megan offered up an interesting perspective. She reminded us that Matt knew he had several medical problems, yet he chose to not worry about the cards he had been dealt and was determined to live his life to the fullest. Wouldn’t that be the same now?” “Yes,” we all agreed. In solidarity, we ultimately settled on 60% as our probability level.