Andrew's Law, Port Charlotte, FL (2026)

03/11/2026

There’s been a lot of posts reported for breaking the guidelines of Facebook.

And I get it. Some of the images are hard to see.

But what the social media stratosphere doesn’t understand is; we lived this. This was our actual real life. Not some beautified version of some rose colored journey that ended with a pretty bow.

No. This was a journey I wish on NOONE!

To walk into a hospital room and take pictures every day, and NOT share them because I wanted it to be a comeback story, was awful. That was done under the guise of hope. Hope that Andrew would survive. But he didn’t. And we are coming up on one year of the accident. An avoidable accident. And I have been sharing private photos that were taken with the intent they would never see the light of social media day. But our story didn’t read out like I hoped. And my son lost his life after fighting so hard.

So when I release these very private pictures, it’s not because I wanted to have interaction or attention, it’s because a guy who caused alllllll of this paid $168 in the state of Florida, got married two days later, and his actions cost my son his life.

I cannot control who sees what. I will use some hashtags but not overtly. The goal and purpose of this page is so that there’s awareness. We have representatives across the state fighting to have more accountability - so another family doesn’t have to go through this.

A lateral bill that was just signed ( and had it been in effect when Andrew’s accident occurred would have resulted in a 3rd degree felony) CS/HB 35 effective 7/1/2026 because of similar cases as Andrew. Florida is rising to the request we made.

So I understand there’s graphic content. But I refuse to acknowledge hurt feelings being exposed to harsh images that were my breath fully taken because it meant my son was still living. You’re seeing the absolute worst physical images of my baby. AFTER he was in an accident he didn’t cause, because of a careless driver.

So go ahead Facebook. Demonetize something I never want to make money from. Report these posts and images and threaten to not share them. That’s fine. I’ve not collected a single uncirculated penny from this page, and won’t, because the message is more powerful than the money.

02/16/2026

Thank you Steve Borges for your donation to the Andrew Behrmann Scholarship Foundation.

02/12/2026

Days 43-46 my updates woth edits
April 26th
�
Overnight Andrew did really well. He was able to come way down on pressor support, the bleeds weren’t bad at all, only one spot, no fever. And his white blood cell count came down to 19! We are in the teens right now!! 🙌🏼
During the day they decided to put him on back up vent support and he went 7 hours, then was put on the trachea collar, which would be completely breathing on his own. He went a little over an hour, then had to have his bedding changed and some bleeding addressed and went back on the vent. But it was a really great lung day!
Andrew also lifted his hand off of the bed a couple times today, which was great as well!
There’s two spots that are still wanting to bleed but nowhere near where we were this past week.
Please continue to pray that the infection clears, his bleeding is minimal, the dialysis is doing its job, and he continues to heal. He is truly strong and resilient. We are so thankful and proud of him. Thank you everyone for continuing to pray and support him. ♥️♥️

-this was a day we had a good day. A measured good day based on results we could see on paper and in real life. These were the days we hung on to. The days that made me fee like impossibility sat next to reality. It was a day where i felt tall. And if you know wha that feels like, you know how that feels in life.

April 27th�
Overnight was pretty good for Andrew. He had a little bit of back and forth with his blood pressure and one area that was bleeding but nothing terrible.
During the day, Andrew was on a low dose of blood pressure medication, but when they tried to put him on back up vent support his blood pressure shot up and he seemed to be panicking, so they put him back on full support.
His blood level stayed pretty good all day, but they did end up giving him one unit of blood and two units of platelets. The best news is that his white blood cell count is down to 18.5!
Movement wise, he was turning his head and lifting it slightly and also pulling up his left leg a bit.
Overall, Andrew was able relax and I put the tv on for the first time in 6 weeks. He seemed to be watching parks and recreation as well as the office, in between dozing off.
Tentatively, surgery is scheduled for Wednesday but just depends on what Dr. Van Vleit sees in the morning. It’s a balancing act of cleaning off the infected cadaver vs putting him in a situation where he could have blood loss.
Please continue to pray for his bleeding, infection, and overall healing - mind and body. Thank you for the continued support and prayers!! ♥️

Another day where hope was high. Have you ever met this level of hope? Have you ever felt likyou were sailing in a storm and broke through the clouds? Have you ever felt hope and sat in the warmth of its glow? This is what that day felt like. I knew all of the card laid on the table. I knew the odds stacked against us, but i had hope. Hope. What an awful enemy.

April 28th
�
Overnight was pretty good for Andrew. He was able to come off his blood pressure medication (and stay off all day - as of writing this). He had a couple little spots bleed, but they stopped quickly. He had some movement of his legs but not really responsive to commands.
This morning Dr Van Vleit said he would like to do more skin grafting on his right arm and possibly chest. But he’s a little concerned with Andrew’s nutrition so we are making changes for that. This is important for him to start absorbing the nutrition because it will help him heal. We are praying the C. diff starts to clear, as that has been hindering his ability to absorb and digest food more effectively.
They also put Andrew on the back up vent support and he went all day, very easily. They are going to put him back on full vent at 8:30pm which will be 12 hours on, and hopefully tomorrow back off at 8:30am.
Andrew moved a lot more today, turning and lifting his head, moving his right shoulder, his legs and hips, as well as his left arm. Just more movement on the whole. Which is so great!
Please keep praying for his bleeds, his nutrition, the infection, and his digestion. We need those areas to continue to improve♥️ Andrew is amazing and so incredibly strong. We are so lucky to see his strength shining through. ♥️

-To go back to this. To go back to these days. I remeber feeling the comfort of a pattern, knowing with a smaller level of uncertainty. I knew the faces of those around me, knew bits qnd pieces of their life. I knew who had children, boyfriends, pets, children. I spoke with them about their homelives. I started knowing these people taking careof my son. Keeping my son alive . Hope.

April 29th
�
Overnight Andrew did well, he stayed off blood pressure support, somewhat helped while they were changing his bedding (lifting his head, arms and legs slightly), and seemed relaxed.
This morning, they decided to do a 3 hour dialysis, which just started around 4:50pm, to help clean his blood since he hasn’t produced urine. On paper, his numbers look great, which is really good. They also put him on the backup vent support (at a lower level than yesterday- today at 10, yesterday at 12) with the plan of doing another 12 hours. As of posting that is still the plan.
During rounds this morning, Dr. Van Vleit said his plan for surgery tomorrow is to skin graft his right arm and chest, provided his left arm looks good and doesn’t appear to be disintegrating due to his infection. He said he would also clean up the other areas, face, neck, legs, abdomen and part of his back on the right, and apply new cadaver. His concern for his legs is that they have had so many debridements, there’s really not a lot left which down the line, if they don’t heal, could be another conversation. After checking what he meant by that, would be additional amputations. We are PRAYING that is not the case. He also said, and I quote, “If I can close his chest, he lives.” Which are words we have not heard spoken in 45 days. So, I am begging everyone to please send some extra prayers. This all depends on how his left arm is healing. We are also praying the C. diff clears. This is a huge complication for his body’s ability to absorb the nutrients he desperately needs. He is back down to 107lbs. His body needs the nutrition to heal.
As far as responsiveness today, he’s been turning his head, tracking with his eyes, flipping his right arm palm down. His right arm is in what they call airplane mode, to help the joint and tendons from getting too stiff, but he does not like his palm up. He will actually flip it over and fight against turning it back. He was also watching tv and there was a part with fire and his blood pressure shot up to 171/90. After I turned it off, he came back down to normal. And while that was sad, it was also positive in a way, because Andrew reacted to it.
My biggest ask is the prayers for the C. diff to clear, his skin graft to be healing, and surgery tomorrow to go well. Pray that he doesn’t bleed too much, that he can have the grafts placed on his right arm and chest. And that this round of dialysis helps his kidney function start.
Thank you in advance for those prayers and sticking with us on this journey. Most of the time I feel a bit numb to what’s happening. And I think it’s ok for now because otherwise the anger and resentment towards the driver who caused all of this would be unbearable. I can’t hold that animosity in my heart while asking God for a miracle. And I’m trying very hard to just live in each day of this journey being thankful to God, the doctors and nurses, and those who continue to keep us in their prayers and supporting us these last 6 and a half weeks. Some days are easier than others, and I know in my logical brain that justice will be served in some form, and I need to just focus on Andrew. But I’m only human.
Thank you again for everything. ♥️ I’m posting early, because I’m staying until late while dialysis runs and don’t want to forget.

-again what I can add is hope. I still lubed and existed in hope. Now I live in February of a new year that my son didn’t live in, but i remember the hope. That’s also why I hate and don’t use the word hope anymore. Because hope doesn’t live in my reality.

12/19/2025

This has been a hard week, my Dad, the man who raised me as his tomboy, yet still supported my dancing and even took me to a competition himself, passed Monday - unexpectedly after an already unimaginable year. But last night I was able to present the first scholarship. I’m holding on to that in my extended year of firsts.. and today is my first birthday without my son and my Dad. Today I turn 40.

I ask, if anyone feels inclined, please donate to Andrew’s Foundation to help continue Andrew’s gift. ♥️⚡️The QR code is on this page in a pinned post.

12/06/2025

The first $1500 scholarship has been selected.

Thank you everyone who’s shared, donated, and supported.

After a loss like Andrew, it’s been a challenge every day to find the will do to much of anything. And I knew, when I received his life insurance policy, I would never ever want to spend a single cent on anything. It’s money you never want to be on the receiving end of, because it meant my son was gone. I decided that would be the seed money for his foundation and that it would be the funds to try to make something impactful for someone else. Along with fundraisers and donations, this will be possible for many years to come.

Everything I do after losing Andrew carries the weight of his loss, while trying to make someone else’s life better. It’s not for me, it’s not to make me feel any better, it’s to fill Andrews absence in this world. Given life, Andrew would have brought his own generosity into this world. And this is a way I can try to keep his generosity going. Again, thank you for all of the support. ♥️⚡️

11/22/2025

I haven’t been active on this page in a bit. The grief is hard. Its unapologetic. This is our year of firsts.

And this page is for Andrew’s story and our effort for the law. But Andrew’s story is hard. The law is what will potentially come of this, through his loss. I’ve already made appointments to pick the scholarship recipients for his foundation, started writing the speech.. but I wake up every day. I live in a world where my son isn’t here, but I’m trying to do things in his absence to help others, with the thought that maybe it will help me.

But the grief is so hard right now. It’s suffocating. I miss my son. So much. So I’m taking a break from social media to just exist in this time I wish I didn’t have, this time I would give for Andrew to live and me not. Please be patient. I will keep everyone updated on the journey, but the underside of the it is what I live every moment. And that’s hard.

Thank you for understanding. ♥️⚡️

11/03/2025

There’s always the highs and lows with life involving loss. Honestly calling it a high is just a societal standard. There’s days where you have purpose and intention involved in the loss and those are considered your “new” high. The low range is more subjective. You have the base low. Like low low, bottom of a dirty garbage can low. I just want to stay in bed and cry or try to disassociate on thise days. Then there’s other layers of low. Tears, breathing with intention lows. And you get up, show up, but you’re half there. Obligatory presence .

Today was a high low day. A high low day with an adjusted scale. Think back about your highest high, think back about your lowest low. Then put on the filter of your heart breaking in a way it can’t be repaired and think about that high, that unattainable high you feel like you can never reach again, because you’re broken heart won’t let the pieces fit. Then think about the lowest low, again with those broken heart pieces. That low might not feel like the lowest because at least your hearts in tact?

All of this may be irrelevant and me overthinking. But I try to use comparative analysis for my reactions. I try to put myself in shoes and try to gauge reactions. In this case that’s systematically impossible. Because my brian always says, impossible pain.

Inside of impossible pain is where choices are made. Do I hold on to the pain, or do I try to shift it?

I chose the shift. Sometimes. And today the shift was the day. We had a fundraiser for my son, in his name. For a scholarship fund I established, in his name. We raised over $5000. Which is amazing.

But here’s where the ugly comes out, the multitude of being a human. I am soo thankful yet so devastated. I want my son back. I want my kid back. But I’m trying to put a metaphorical foot in front of another. Yet I would trade it all for him. I just want him. I truthfully care about nothing but him. Yet that’s not my reality.

So I go down this path, I am so thankful for the fund’s raised for Andrew’s foundation. I will be awarding the first scholarship in his name, next month. His law is working its way through Tallahassee as we speak. I am so grateful.

But man do I miss my kid. What I wouldn’t give for one of his hugs. But I have to keep trying, I have to keep moving. Because if I didn’t, if I gave up, where would I land? I wish I could a lot of the days. But I know in my heart I can’t. So here’s a really awful, long winded journey though my thought process of thanks. I do appreciate it all. I am thankful for it all. But man, I miss my baby. I want Andrew back more than anything. And as I exhale that thought, I also say thank you. I know I can’t have him, but I also know I can and have had community support. And for that, I don’t really have the words, because my words all tangle with Drew. And boy do I miss him.

10/29/2025

Andrew’s event is this weekend. If you can’t make please consider donating or sharing. Thank you. ♥️

* We appreciate your kindness. A small surcharge applies to credit card donations.

10/22/2025

April 23-25, 2025
Days 40-42 / Surgery #15

This block of days were both great and awful. The feelings were a rollercoaster. I felt such a high on the 23rd, so high I felt light. The lightest I’ve felt. The most hopeful. The day where all of the absolute worst times were worth it. Because we felt, I felt like we were in a good place, finally. But what this block of days taught me, in 72 hours, I learned that you can’t count on the good days to last in an ICU setting, until you have those magic words we never got to hear; “your loved one will survive this”.

Medically, Andrew swung the full berth of the pendulum. He was responsive, moving, making gains. But then was on a quick down swing into what looked like DIC. The amount of blood that was being pumped into Andrew’s body was unfathomable. And helplessly watching that, I’ve never felt more empty. I’ve never felt more useless.

Even now, I spend a lot of time reflecting on this time in the hospital, I think about the timeframe. I think about who I was in those walls. I think about our journey. I think about the accident. And I think about the people who are currently spending time in room 533. I wonder about them. I wonder and think about so many things. But in those days in April, those days in time where Andrew was alive, I was reminded about the hard side of hope. How far you can fall when the hope bottoms out.

Andrew had his 15th surgery, more skin cleaning and the first attempt for self donor grafting. To see if it would take. Andrew was 71% burned, so he didn’t have a lot of skin available for grafting sites. But they were to the point they wanted to try. And after the down swing where hope was deflated, we hoped again. I hoped again. I was able to answer questions the cafeteria employee asked with hope. Most bad days I would avoid conversations in an attempt to say out-loud my fears. Which meant avoided eating during the day. During the 15th surgery I was so scared, I sat outside of the elevator bank for 4 hours after Andrew was brought down, crying off and on. A nurse gave me a candy bar he bought from the machine around the corner because he didn’t have words. He wanted to offer something, anything. The inner turmoil of living over two months in an icu was just one of the hard weights of this. Again, there’s not really words in our language that can articulate the feelings. It’s like being ready to laugh, cry, puke, pass out, and feel close to death all at once.

You get to the point in life, where life is hard. Where things are hard. But you really can’t understand yourself fully until you go through unimaginable circumstances. This is one, and I’m still trying to figure out who I am with all of this, inside of all of this. But still, there’s the after this to go through.

I still get that anger for our circumstances, that blind rage. And that colors a lot of our journey. When you are praying to God to save your son, trying to ask forgiveness for all of my preconceived misdoings, there’s not a ton of room for anger. But it found its way in, through the cracks and holes. I was and still am, angry. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. A man mad a choice, then another choice, and is still driving, still living. Yet, my life stopped. Andrew stopped. But that’s jumping ahead.

10/12/2025

April 22nd 2025
Day 39

Before I left last night another patient on the floor coded a few times, while Andrew’s blood pressure alarms were going off. That was pretty overwhelming, and I left a little later than visiting hours, but had already posted the update on Facebook that day. I can’t begin to describe the gut wrenching fear I felt. I think it had been a while since I felt that level of fear. I got comfortable feeling unknown and unease. But shock was a little bit further in my rearview mirror. And I felt shocking terror that night. I felt fear leaving my son. But I had to go home. I had to fulfill my superstition. I am beginning to think it was a lateral OCD I was developing. I think when you feel so out of control, you grasp any control you can. And I held onto those as if it was a semblance of control.

The night continued to be a struggle for Andrew and his blood pressure. He maxed out the pressor support, got 4 units of blood plus some platelets. So, it was a little bit of a rough night.
This morning was rough too. His blood pressure wasn’t stable at all (and really hasn’t been all day). The Nephrologist told them to focus on stabilizing the top number, so they could start dialysis. That also proved to be difficult because he has so many things going into his body and so little area, they put ports in, so they had to figure out how to get a new line in, which they did, and he started the regular dialysis around 2:30pm this afternoon. He also received additional blood products. (He’s gotten 73 bags of blood, 132 total products in the last 5 and a half weeks)
We spoke with Dr Van Vleit this morning and he said we really need the infection to clear. It’s making the skin part of this show very little progress. So all of my words to God were praying the infection clears. It’s aggressive and he’s on a lot to help fight it, but without skin, he’s just so susceptible to reoccurring issues. As of now, his blood pressure is looking like it’s starting to stabilize and he is better than he was in the AM.
Today was a little bit of a step back, and I’m trying to be positive, there are so many interventions they are doing to keep up with his fighting spirit. Before surgery his white blood cell count was down to 22 after (it always spikes) it was up to 31. We really really really want to see that trend down continue. And all I could do was hope. All I could physically and mentally do was hope. And I felt so broken. So scared. We have come so far, yet we are still trying to gain ground, trying to survive, after this long. My spirits were low. I won’t lie. I was scared. And thinking less than positive thoughts. How do you do this? How do you look at a bed and see what you logically know is your child but can’t understand how we got here? How to make it through this time. I kept thinking about this fable I knew. A boy in a class found a magic string that if he pulled it, it would jump forward in time, during the hard times. And he pulled it so much that he was old and dying, and realized you had to go through life’s hard, to appreciate life’s good. But in this hard, I wanted the string. I wanted to pull past this. Because I couldn’t see how I could go through this. And jumping ahead, to my now, I wanted the string back. I want the time where Andrew was alive. But again, getting ahead. However I thought of this story often in the hospital. This day especially.

10/04/2025

I miss you kid #3000

Andrew's Law

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