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She later took them home for a granny gang bang
The Goodness Thread
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View: https://www.facebook.com/reel/2071670829966121
She later took them home for a granny gang bang
**Update on Savannah Rose**
Savannah had a seizure at 8:45pm last night. It was the first she’d had in a few days. Because of this, they skipped a a dose of weaning her off of her sedative. She is almost 24 hours seizure free, so they are resuming their plan to wean her off again.
Savannah’s oxygen is on one of the lowest settings meaning she’s taking alot of her breaths on her own. We are very happy about that.
She’s had to be suctioned quite a bit yesterday because she’s had some mucus on her lungs. That makes her really upset. She doesn’t make a sound, but you can visibly see that she’s coughing, gagging, and crying. It’s hard for us to watch.
We are still looking for her to be awake in the next few days. She’s been out for a week but to us it feels like months.
Savannah had a seizure at 8:45pm last night. It was the first she’d had in a few days. Because of this, they skipped a a dose of weaning her off of her sedative. She is almost 24 hours seizure free, so they are resuming their plan to wean her off again.
Savannah’s oxygen is on one of the lowest settings meaning she’s taking alot of her breaths on her own. We are very happy about that.
She’s had to be suctioned quite a bit yesterday because she’s had some mucus on her lungs. That makes her really upset. She doesn’t make a sound, but you can visibly see that she’s coughing, gagging, and crying. It’s hard for us to watch.
We are still looking for her to be awake in the next few days. She’s been out for a week but to us it feels like months.
I miss talking to Savannah. She likes to walk up to me and say “The gon.” The gon is the phone. She likes to sit in my lap and watch videos I’ve taken of her and Samuel playing. Unlike her Pappaw, she loves pickles. She will say “Da pick!”, which means get me a pickle out of the fridge. Sometimes I will just sit in the floor, and she will walk up to me and give a big, squeezing hug. She loves for me to pick her up so she can pull the cord on the ceiling fan that turns the light on and off. She loves to sit in my lap while I’m playing the piano. That girl loves music, just like her brother! She won’t try to play the keys much, just mainly listen and smile. She is largely a quiet and contemplative child. We anxiously await her waking up in a few days. Kathy and I are praying for a complete healing. I believe God can do it. He said to ask anything in His name; we are. Please continue joining us in prayer for this beautiful child.
I held Savannah’s hand tonight and told her how pretty she is and that her brother came to see her yesterday. I talk to her just like we are sitting on the couch at my house. I touched her hair and told her she has pretty hair.
“Pappaw loves you so much”. I have always told her that, and I reiterated it tonight. Somewhere in there, even under sedation, I think maybe it helps her to know that family is right here with her. It helps ME to say those things to her, as well.
Thank you to everyone who is praying for her. We love you all.
“Pappaw loves you so much”. I have always told her that, and I reiterated it tonight. Somewhere in there, even under sedation, I think maybe it helps her to know that family is right here with her. It helps ME to say those things to her, as well.
Thank you to everyone who is praying for her. We love you all.
**Update on Savannah**
Today has been a hard day so far. We had a brain MRI this morning and got the results a few hours ago.
Savannah has significant brain damage on her scans. We are heart broken and very upset to say the least.
The plan is now to wake her up slowly from her sedation (this will take several days) and see where she is neurologically. The doctors said that her demeanor could be minimally different from her typical self or she could have to re learn everything and require significant therapy.
Please help us prays that she wakes up and is able to function as close to her old self as possible.
Just to be clear, this is an internet friend's granddaughter. I'm not asking anyone to donate here. I'd appreciate it though for a prayer, if you believe in that, or to just think of her and to wish her well.
Several people have reached out to me who want to help Jon and Brooke with a financial donation. I will be honest with you. They are driving a lot of miles, food is being bought, and the medical expenses are going to be significant.
I am attaching a post from Rock Bottom Wholesale, a Greensburg business, which lines out ways you can contribute. We appreciate Rock Bottom seeing a need and taking the initiative to spearhead a structured way to contribute funds.
I will add a couple of other ways. Brooke works at Cecilian Bank and has an account there. You can go to any Cecilian Bank in any county and tell them you want to make a donation for Brooke, and they will place it into her account.
If you want to donate online, you can go to PayPal and type in the address @BrookePruitt0013
It will populate as Brooke Milby. Select that, then you can make a payment.
If you want to make an old-fashioned donation with a check, you can send to the address given by Rock Bottom or mail it to my PO Box address, and I will make sure they get it. Make checks out to Jon Pruitt or Brooke Pruitt. My address is
Robin Milby
PO Box 9
Buffalo, KY. 42716
Thank you so very much.
This precious little girl is Savannah Rose Pruitt.
Savannah is 20 months old and currently in Norton’s Children’s Hospital in Louisville with very devastating complications resulting from contracting the flu recently. ***Before you read any further, if you believe in the power of prayer, please stop and send a prayer up in her name.***
Savannah Rose has family here in Green County and she resides in Knob Lick with her parents Jonathan and Brooke, and her big brother and sister.
The road to recovery may be long and her stay in the hospital could be lengthy. Blake and I want to do what we can to make that road easier for them.
The cost of traveling, eating, etc will be difficult, so, with their permission, we are sharing their situation and taking a monetary collection up for them here at Rock Bottom.
Here’s how you can help if you feel lead to help this family, too. :
* First, continue to pray for a complete healing, raising Savannah Rose up in fervent prayer.
* Donate whatever you feel lead to help this sweet little girl’s family navigate the future ahead.
* Donations can be made at Rock Bottom in the form of:
* Cash
* Checks (made out to Jonathan Pruitt)
* Or PayPal payments to Brooke at BrookePruitt0013 (it may populate as Brooke Milby on PayPal once you type this in, but it’s correct)
Prayers are most important, as her daddy reminded me, early this morning.
We hope that you will mention her in all of your prayers and that you will share her name with your churches and that she will be lifted up in prayer, along with her family, by as many people as possible.
Thank you, in advance for any donations you are able to help with. Nothing is too small.
Thank you and God bless each of you!
Several people have reached out to me who want to help Jon and Brooke with a financial donation. I will be honest with you. They are driving a lot of miles, food is being bought, and the medical expenses are going to be significant.
I am attaching a post from Rock Bottom Wholesale, a Greensburg business, which lines out ways you can contribute. We appreciate Rock Bottom seeing a need and taking the initiative to spearhead a structured way to contribute funds.
I will add a couple of other ways. Brooke works at Cecilian Bank and has an account there. You can go to any Cecilian Bank in any county and tell them you want to make a donation for Brooke, and they will place it into her account.
If you want to donate online, you can go to PayPal and type in the address @BrookePruitt0013
It will populate as Brooke Milby. Select that, then you can make a payment.
If you want to make an old-fashioned donation with a check, you can send to the address given by Rock Bottom or mail it to my PO Box address, and I will make sure they get it. Make checks out to Jon Pruitt or Brooke Pruitt. My address is
Robin Milby
PO Box 9
Buffalo, KY. 42716
Thank you so very much.
This precious little girl is Savannah Rose Pruitt.
Savannah is 20 months old and currently in Norton’s Children’s Hospital in Louisville with very devastating complications resulting from contracting the flu recently. ***Before you read any further, if you believe in the power of prayer, please stop and send a prayer up in her name.***
Savannah Rose has family here in Green County and she resides in Knob Lick with her parents Jonathan and Brooke, and her big brother and sister.
The road to recovery may be long and her stay in the hospital could be lengthy. Blake and I want to do what we can to make that road easier for them.
The cost of traveling, eating, etc will be difficult, so, with their permission, we are sharing their situation and taking a monetary collection up for them here at Rock Bottom.
Here’s how you can help if you feel lead to help this family, too. :
* First, continue to pray for a complete healing, raising Savannah Rose up in fervent prayer.
* Donate whatever you feel lead to help this sweet little girl’s family navigate the future ahead.
* Donations can be made at Rock Bottom in the form of:
* Cash
* Checks (made out to Jonathan Pruitt)
* Or PayPal payments to Brooke at BrookePruitt0013 (it may populate as Brooke Milby on PayPal once you type this in, but it’s correct)
Prayers are most important, as her daddy reminded me, early this morning.
We hope that you will mention her in all of your prayers and that you will share her name with your churches and that she will be lifted up in prayer, along with her family, by as many people as possible.
Thank you, in advance for any donations you are able to help with. Nothing is too small.
Thank you and God bless each of you!
Attachments
In a quiet pediatric wing of a San Francisco hospital in the late 1990s, a nurse paused outside a room, blinking back tears. Inside, a small boy with terminal cancer was doubled over in laughter. Dressed in scrubs three sizes too big, with a stethoscope around his neck and a ridiculous red nose, Robin Williams had the child laughing so hard he momentarily forgot the pain. No cameras, no press, no entourage. Only Robin, doing voices, pulling faces, imitating cartoon characters, making joy out of thin air.
These visits were never scheduled through Hollywood. They were arranged privately through hospital staff who had quietly come to know him as more than an actor or comedian. He would often call ahead anonymously, asking if there were any children who might benefit from a visit. Many times, he arrived alone, sometimes with a bag of puppets, or dressed in character, even slipping into his iconic "Mrs. Doubtfire" voice. The children, some too weak to sit up, would smile, giggle, or whisper a joke back. Parents watched in awe as their child, often in the final days of life, laughed again. Sometimes for the first time in weeks.
One nurse recalled a 2003 visit when Robin spent over an hour with a ten-year-old leukemia patient who had only days left. The boy's father had been stoic for weeks, refusing to cry in front of his son. That day, as Robin pretended to conduct an invisible orchestra of squeaky IV poles and sang a ridiculous operatic ballad to the beeping of heart monitors, the man finally wept. Not from grief, but from relief.
Robin never spoke about these visits in interviews. Even those closest to him, including longtime friends and collaborators, learned about them through others. Some families tried to thank him publicly, but he always declined. He believed the experience belonged to the child, not to him, and certainly not to any public narrative. For Robin, the visit wasn’t an act of charity or performance. It was a human connection, raw and unfiltered.
In 2006, during a stop in Denver for a show, he drove over an hour to meet a terminally ill teenage girl whose favorite movie was "Aladdin". She had grown up reciting the Genie’s lines, and when Robin stepped into the room and started riffing in that unforgettable voice, she lit up. Her mother later wrote that Robin stayed long after the visit should have ended, talking to her daughter like an old friend, listening as much as entertaining.
It took remarkable emotional strength to step into those rooms. These weren’t film sets. There were no rewrites, no retakes. The children were often fading, the air heavy with grief, and yet he found ways to ignite hope, even if only briefly. He never rushed. He sat on floors, shared ice pops, held hands. Afterward, he often sat alone in his car for a long time, sometimes crying, sometimes calling a friend just to hear a familiar voice.
By 2010, hospital staff in several cities had come to know that if Robin was in town, there might be a call. No one ever publicized it, because he didn’t want it that way. It wasn’t about headlines or accolades. He often told nurses that if he could make one kid forget where they were, even for ten minutes, it was worth everything.
His visits didn’t cure illnesses or change medical outcomes. But they did something else. They gave a flicker of joy to the fading. They softened the hardest moments for grieving families. And they reminded everyone in the room, patients, parents, nurses, even Robin himself, that laughter still had power, even at the edge of goodbye.
Sometimes, healing isn’t about medicine. It’s about making someone feel alive, even for a moment, when the world says they shouldn't.
These visits were never scheduled through Hollywood. They were arranged privately through hospital staff who had quietly come to know him as more than an actor or comedian. He would often call ahead anonymously, asking if there were any children who might benefit from a visit. Many times, he arrived alone, sometimes with a bag of puppets, or dressed in character, even slipping into his iconic "Mrs. Doubtfire" voice. The children, some too weak to sit up, would smile, giggle, or whisper a joke back. Parents watched in awe as their child, often in the final days of life, laughed again. Sometimes for the first time in weeks.
One nurse recalled a 2003 visit when Robin spent over an hour with a ten-year-old leukemia patient who had only days left. The boy's father had been stoic for weeks, refusing to cry in front of his son. That day, as Robin pretended to conduct an invisible orchestra of squeaky IV poles and sang a ridiculous operatic ballad to the beeping of heart monitors, the man finally wept. Not from grief, but from relief.
Robin never spoke about these visits in interviews. Even those closest to him, including longtime friends and collaborators, learned about them through others. Some families tried to thank him publicly, but he always declined. He believed the experience belonged to the child, not to him, and certainly not to any public narrative. For Robin, the visit wasn’t an act of charity or performance. It was a human connection, raw and unfiltered.
In 2006, during a stop in Denver for a show, he drove over an hour to meet a terminally ill teenage girl whose favorite movie was "Aladdin". She had grown up reciting the Genie’s lines, and when Robin stepped into the room and started riffing in that unforgettable voice, she lit up. Her mother later wrote that Robin stayed long after the visit should have ended, talking to her daughter like an old friend, listening as much as entertaining.
It took remarkable emotional strength to step into those rooms. These weren’t film sets. There were no rewrites, no retakes. The children were often fading, the air heavy with grief, and yet he found ways to ignite hope, even if only briefly. He never rushed. He sat on floors, shared ice pops, held hands. Afterward, he often sat alone in his car for a long time, sometimes crying, sometimes calling a friend just to hear a familiar voice.
By 2010, hospital staff in several cities had come to know that if Robin was in town, there might be a call. No one ever publicized it, because he didn’t want it that way. It wasn’t about headlines or accolades. He often told nurses that if he could make one kid forget where they were, even for ten minutes, it was worth everything.
His visits didn’t cure illnesses or change medical outcomes. But they did something else. They gave a flicker of joy to the fading. They softened the hardest moments for grieving families. And they reminded everyone in the room, patients, parents, nurses, even Robin himself, that laughter still had power, even at the edge of goodbye.
Sometimes, healing isn’t about medicine. It’s about making someone feel alive, even for a moment, when the world says they shouldn't.
82K
**Update on Savannah**
The doctors tried to take Savannah’s tube out yesterday. However, her throat was so swollen from coughing earlier in the week she was struggling to breathe and they had to put her tube back in.
They have given her more sedation to keep her still and less agitated and a steroid specific to helping her throat heal.
They are going to try to take her tube out again on Monday.
Please help us pray that they are successful in removing the tube and weaning her off of sedation. This means that we will finally be able to hold her and start to see what she is able to do from a neurological standpoint. She will also be one step closer to getting out of the PICU and into a regular hospital room.
God is working on Savannah. We can see little signs of improvement every day.
