Today is your visual field test at 8am. We talked about this yesterday and I explain to you how it works. I have had this done a number of times to monitor my visual field. So far, I’m still good but my progressive eye disease will likely beat me on the test at some point in the future.
You were a good driver. I felt very safe in your car. You had sharp eyes and didn’t miss a thing. I drive like Mr. Magoo. That’s what you told me. You are right. I have so many near misses. I scare myself. I am not a good driver. You were the driver in the family and that was fine with me.
You called me at work today. Full of tears and sobs. I could hardly understand what you said. You were not so lucky with your test. The doctor was blunt. “You will never drive again.” You asked the question again taking a different tack. The same answer. You are devastated. I tried to reassure you.
This lost hits me hard too. I feel the pressure of being the driver of the family.
Ironically just an hour before, a client, Susan was in with her little shelties. She is my age and had a stroke a seven years ago. After her stroke, she couldn’t see from her left side. She couldn’t drive. Luckily, within a year her vision came back to the point where she could see well enough to drive and she has driven since then.
I tell you about her experience. I emphasize that the doctor said you couldn’t drive now. We both knew that driving now would be dangerous … and impossible since you haven’t even managed to get into a car since your stroke. I can’t imagine that any doctor would so insensitive as to shut down all possibility of hope. You are sure the doctor said ‘never’. At this point you don’t seem to care. You are too busy licking your wound. Who could blame you. That was a tough card to be dealt.
Susan told me of her personal experience with the stroke and how she is different. She knows it, her family sees it. The depression was deep and dark. She still has trouble concentrating and focusing on a task. Susan had good advice. “You can’t live in yesterday and you can’t live for next week. You have to pace yourself and live now.”
I think that you have a difficult time focusing on tasks too. Even an enjoyable task, like watching the Superbowl. I asked if you were going to watch it and you causally said “I might watch a bit of it.” A bit of it! That’s not the football fan I know. You would have been sure to have the weekend schedule planned about the Superbowl. This is rather eerie to see.
I wonder if this is one of the reasons why you haven’t read much since the stroke. Even watching TV. One of your favorite past-times, you only half-heartedly watch the TV. (Much to my delight)
For Susan, it’s been almost eight years and she is still ‘recovering’. It’s such a long time.
From work, I try calling you back in the afternoon. No answer. I called your parents so that they can keep trying to call while I leave work to fetch children. I try calling again. You say “Call back in 30 minutes, the nurse is taking me to supper.” I call back and the line is busy, Finally after the children are in bed, I get through to you.
You are still in the self-pity mode but showing some effort to come out of it. You tell me about the phone calls you had today. Kevin, Janice and your parents. “It’s good to hear positive talk.” You say. “Tomorrow is a different day.”
I think that you are a small ‘e’ extrovert at heart. You draw your energy from your surroundings and the people who you are with. The phone call and visits are very therapeutic.
You volunteered your body for a class on transfers that your PT is teaching. You are happy to be of some help – even if it’s being a broken body. Your PT is teaching this skill and she needed a willing volunteer. You always like to please people so you volunteered.
You have a lot of negative talk coming out of you now. “I might as well be a tire wedge. It is depressing – nothing I do is right.” “I would rather be dead then be a burden.” After today’s news being nonchalantly dumped on you, leaving you with no hope of being able to drive again, you still manage to be defiant and say “As much as they keep kicking me when I’m down – I’m still here”
I try to rally your spirits over the phone. As our phone conversation continues you shift a little in your thinking. “I know I can’t drive … I wouldn’t want to endanger the children or other drivers.” You are starting to think things through. “I could do meal prep and looking after the home front. If I am not allowed to live a normal existence, then I will still try to look after my family anyway that I can.”
I cry at the sound of these words.
It seems when your feelings are at a low point, somehow, I am able to find the energy to bring you out of it. What really impresses me is that when I’m low, you, with all your ‘disabilities’, manage to find the energy to rally me out of it. You still have significant abilities.
“Is the juice worth the squeeze?’ You ask. Then you answer your own question. “You, Tara and Quinn and the pets are my juice. The juice is definitely worth the squeeze.”
I am so relieved to hear this. The tone in your voice had the hard edge of determination that you used to have before. Your flame is flicking. Your determination is coming back.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sunday February 7 – Flickers and Flames
Last night I had a sore throat and very tired and drained. The pep talk ‘pool’ that I have been drawing from was running dry. I had nothing left to say to help your spirits. I went to Lenore’s and wrote in the journal for a bit and went to bed early and slept in late. This morning I am recharged. The writing is so therapeutic maybe I should try to get you interested in it. I hope you find the same power in it’s medicine.
I was nervous to pop my head in your door. I was worried what I would find. You weren’t in bed, you were in the washroom. I could hear you talk with the nurses. You sounded better. I relaxed a little. When you came out I said nothing just went to you and hugged you…tightly.
The children went home with Juanita last night. They have a big concert on Sunday that they really want to attend. We have all day to talk things out. We have a lot to talk about.
You start the conversation. “I talked to the nurse last night and he helped me understand my problems.” You are lucky to have this nurse. He was on duty your first night at the NSRC. He has a calm, careful way about him. Soft spoken and yet fatherly. He has a psychology background before he entered nursing. You talked with him about your fears, anger and sorrow. You were very lucky to have him as your nurse last night.
He explained that with your recovering brain, your thinking isn’t as flexible or as fast as it was before. “I don’t even know what I am even thinking right now. So for me to make a decision to forgive myself and any big decision is impossible. I am not capable of it.
I need to talk to a psychologist can help me better understand where I am. I am not capable of it.”
You are not capable of it right now. I hope this is something that you can learn. Forgiveness is a process that can take a long time in a normal person. I understand that it may take a long time for a person with an injured brain.
This marathon journey that we are both on is like an unexplored land that has a map but we don’t have it. People give us little glimpses here and there of where we are. All we ultimately know is that it’s a very long journey. And we are discovering the lay of the land as we go. The learning that we are both doing is hard.
This is Hard to the exponent of Harder.
While we talked, you shaved. You did a great job with one hand on the right side and a slightly patchy job on the left side. I helped you fix it up a little. Then we are off for a coffee run.
As you drink your coffeemated coffee I share an idea with you. “Remember the Valentine’s Day project we did last year as a family?” I asked.
Valentine 2000. It was an inspired Valentine’s day for me. That February, I was very pregnant with Tara and couldn’t sleep. I had been consumed with the financing of buying a property in town to move the vet practice to. One very early morning a few days before Valentine’s day, I sat up in bed and looked at you and my big belly, with Tara adjusting her body parts inside, and realized that I hadn’t been thinking like a wife and a mother to be lately. I had been so focused on the stupid property, the business plan and the banking that I had forgotten about the most important parts of my life. I needed to change that focus.
After lying in bed for a while, hoping sleep would find me again, I gave up on it and waddled downstairs. I found some red paper. And I made little red hearts. I made … 29 little red hearts. On each heart I wrote something that I loved about you.
A few days later, on Valentine’s eve, I hid the hearts throughout the house. I put some in obvious spots and others I hid in places where you would only find them over the course of time ... like in your rubber boot or at the bottom of the dog food bag.
I think that you thought that this a was a little weird initially, but when I told you there were 29 hearts in total – you caught the fever and within a few days you found them all. You even called me at work a few days later to announce that you found the 29th heart! I loved that Valentine’s Day.
Last year, since the children can both write, I decided to resurrect the ‘tradition’. Since we always had so much fun with the Easter egg hunts in the past, I thought it would be neat to combine the two concepts. Food and love notes. But now, with a larger family, there would be love notes for all four of us. I bought some post-it note paper that came in four different colours. Tara picked green, Quinn picked orange, you got blue and I got the hot pink. I handed out the papers so that everyone got five papers of each other’s colours. Then we each went to a quiet spot in the house and wrote our secret love notes to the person who matched the colour. We each made up 15 love notes and I handed out chocolate hearts to be hidden with each note.
Then the fun began. We each hid the love notes and chocolate hearts throughout the house. It was great! Tara took great pride on secretly writing hers. Quinn still needed a little help. By the time I got to write my love notes, I was out of creative energy and wrote rather lame ‘I Love …”. You did the best. Your ‘I Love …’ notes were heart felt and inspired and very meaningful. We all voted you the MVP of ‘I Love You’ note making game!
This year I thought of a twist. Like any good game, there has to be a twist to keep you on your toes. “This year’s twist should be, in addition to the ‘I Love …’ notes for the other three people in the family, we should each also have to write a ‘I Love … note to ourselves.” You aren’t so sure that you can do this. I continue to apply a little pressure. “It’s important to recognized that you need to love yourself too.” I add “It’s a good lesson for the children.” You agree it’s a good idea but I think more to get me off your case then to embrace the idea.
Recently, on a blog comment, someone posted the idea of a vision board. I didn’t know what a vision board was. I goggled it. Essentially it can be anything you want it to be about anything you want it to be. In our case, it could be a family project to help us envision what life will be like when you are home.
I hadn’t got to tell you about the idea yet, but today you actually came up with the idea on your own. “I see the words ‘work’, ‘effort’ and ‘recovery’ – I feel I have an excuse to avoid things.” The excuse is the stroke. I feel that I have to stop that thinking in the bud. “That sounds like a circular argument to me – Your stroke damaged your brain so your recovery is going to be hard. A hard recovery is too much for a person with brain damage. So you can’t do it.
When I point out that this is a defeatist attitude. You switch your thinking to the huge circle of friends and family who are rooting for you. You start to talk about a motivational wall in the house. Something that grounds you emotionally when you feel stuck or hit ‘the wall’. Something that will say to you ‘take 29 steps’. This sounds like a vision board.
I mention my idea of writing and how therapeutic it’s been. I tell you that I find therapy in it when I write the words and when I read the words later. (even through I don’t proofread all that well). It’s like a conversation with myself. I talk (write) and read (listen) to myself. I am my own best friend and it helps me. There are times i get stuck. That’s when I share with others who have the vision to see things from a different perspective. It’s difficult to share with others if you can’t put your feelings into words.
“It could be gibberish.” You say. “Yeah – I think a lot of mine is gibberish but it belongs to me so it makes sense to me. Your gibberish belongs to you. It will help.
You are frustrated that everything takes so long. I share with you my observation about the laundry machines downstairs. On the machine is a long list of tasks that the machine does. ‘Add garment’, ‘wash’, ‘rinse’, ‘spin’, ‘cycle complete. By each task is a light and as the machine goes through the cycle, a light indicates where in the cycle it is.
In some ways your recovery is like that. We don’t know how long you will be at each phase of your recovery, we just know that the recovery is long. When one phase stops and another starts isn’t as clear as on the machine.
Your goal is measured by the tasks completed, not by the time passed.
You wanted to hear about the day of your stroke. I told you from my prospective, how the day played out. About your run on the Cobequid trail, and your red face, about the phone call from Uncle John, the EMTs in the house and the fireman talking to the children. I told you about me talking to the doctor and getting scared and about the ‘No hope’ conversation. I told you that somehow I managed to tell the children, though I don’t even remember it much. Then I called your parents. The phone call is a blank also. The only words I remember are “No hope.” I told you about what I thought and felt and my sorrow.
You wished you could have been there to help us through that rough day. “You were there in spirit and the next day you gave us a sign. The CT scan was the sign that you where going to live.
“We had a good life with our family in Truro. Our lives have changed forever. And we don’t even know the magnitude of it yet.” I try to say lightheartedly “Well when you are given lemons in life, you can make lemonade.” You take this concept one step further. “When someone deals you a load of shit … you make shittenade.”
We talk about the old you and the new you. “The old Chris died Aug 30th. He took the smoking, gambling, running and driving away with him.” You said and you worry that the funny Chris died too. I assure you that the funny Chris is alive and well and possibly better then ever.
“I might be better than ever.” A healthy mindset is developing. “I want to show all the great people who supported me that I am worthy of their support.” Your story has an aspect in it that a lot of people can relate to. The struggles to overcome your weaknesses and illness and still thrive – you have the potential to make it an inspirational story.
You have a problem with forgiveness. “The problem is that I made a decision that the cigarettes were more important then you, the family and even the possibilities for the future. I choose cigarettes over all of you.” I point out that you also choose cigarettes over yourself. Every time you lit up, you cheated on yourself. No wonder you can’t forgive yourself.
“What were your roles in life before your stroke.” I ask you. “A father, a husband, a friend, a runner, a woodworker, an employee.” I add to your list: “A son and a brother. Most of the really important roles you can still do.” I say. “ Some of the roles you won’t be able to do but you can replace them and recreate yourself. So instead of a runner, you are a walker, or a cyclist on a special bicycle. Instead of a woodworker, you are a one handed wood carver."
You are trying to picture your role in our family. A very special unique role – something I can be proud of. It will happen whether I want it to or not .
Beat the odds and make the best recovery or more disability
I leave to go home, parting is hard as usual. I head to Juanita’s for dinner and to pick up the children. They had a choir concert in Truro today. They were both very excited about the concert. “One song is going to be taped and put on youtube!” Tara says with her eye gleaming.
At dinner, Mum asks “What’s all this about smoking and gambling? Is he just joking.” Like most of us, Mum has never figured out when you are joking and when you are serious. “It’s true Mum. He gambled but he beat that a long time ago and he hasn’t smoked in over 5 months now.” The children wonder what the gambling is all about. Tara was six months when you gave up gambling the last time. We never really discussed it with the children.
I explain how poisonous gambling is and how it trains your brain to take money from one machine (bank machine) and fed it to another machine. “Well that’s just stupid!” Tara exclaims. “It may seem that way but smart people can be trained to have a gambling problem.”
I explain how the ‘Gotcha’ system, they have in their school, operates the same way. If a teacher sees a child do something good and follow the rules, then they get given a Gotcha ticket. At the end of the week, a Gotcha is drawn out of the box of all the earned Gotchas that accumulated in the classroom that week. One lucky child wins a prize! Both Tara and Quinn have been Gotcha winners in the past. Now, they feel good just to get a Gotcha – they don’t need to win a prize to feel good about themselves.
At bedtime, your phone call with Tara was about gambling. Tara asks a lot of thoughtful questions. She is trying to understand. I don’t hear your side of the conversation, just hers at the end of the call she says “You have a ton of determination Daddy!”
Tara is partly right you did have a ton of determination. I don’t see much of it now. There are flickers but no flame. Finding your determination is our next struggle. Without determination, you have nothing.
I was nervous to pop my head in your door. I was worried what I would find. You weren’t in bed, you were in the washroom. I could hear you talk with the nurses. You sounded better. I relaxed a little. When you came out I said nothing just went to you and hugged you…tightly.
The children went home with Juanita last night. They have a big concert on Sunday that they really want to attend. We have all day to talk things out. We have a lot to talk about.
You start the conversation. “I talked to the nurse last night and he helped me understand my problems.” You are lucky to have this nurse. He was on duty your first night at the NSRC. He has a calm, careful way about him. Soft spoken and yet fatherly. He has a psychology background before he entered nursing. You talked with him about your fears, anger and sorrow. You were very lucky to have him as your nurse last night.
He explained that with your recovering brain, your thinking isn’t as flexible or as fast as it was before. “I don’t even know what I am even thinking right now. So for me to make a decision to forgive myself and any big decision is impossible. I am not capable of it.
I need to talk to a psychologist can help me better understand where I am. I am not capable of it.”
You are not capable of it right now. I hope this is something that you can learn. Forgiveness is a process that can take a long time in a normal person. I understand that it may take a long time for a person with an injured brain.
This marathon journey that we are both on is like an unexplored land that has a map but we don’t have it. People give us little glimpses here and there of where we are. All we ultimately know is that it’s a very long journey. And we are discovering the lay of the land as we go. The learning that we are both doing is hard.
This is Hard to the exponent of Harder.
While we talked, you shaved. You did a great job with one hand on the right side and a slightly patchy job on the left side. I helped you fix it up a little. Then we are off for a coffee run.
As you drink your coffeemated coffee I share an idea with you. “Remember the Valentine’s Day project we did last year as a family?” I asked.
Valentine 2000. It was an inspired Valentine’s day for me. That February, I was very pregnant with Tara and couldn’t sleep. I had been consumed with the financing of buying a property in town to move the vet practice to. One very early morning a few days before Valentine’s day, I sat up in bed and looked at you and my big belly, with Tara adjusting her body parts inside, and realized that I hadn’t been thinking like a wife and a mother to be lately. I had been so focused on the stupid property, the business plan and the banking that I had forgotten about the most important parts of my life. I needed to change that focus.
After lying in bed for a while, hoping sleep would find me again, I gave up on it and waddled downstairs. I found some red paper. And I made little red hearts. I made … 29 little red hearts. On each heart I wrote something that I loved about you.
A few days later, on Valentine’s eve, I hid the hearts throughout the house. I put some in obvious spots and others I hid in places where you would only find them over the course of time ... like in your rubber boot or at the bottom of the dog food bag.
I think that you thought that this a was a little weird initially, but when I told you there were 29 hearts in total – you caught the fever and within a few days you found them all. You even called me at work a few days later to announce that you found the 29th heart! I loved that Valentine’s Day.
Last year, since the children can both write, I decided to resurrect the ‘tradition’. Since we always had so much fun with the Easter egg hunts in the past, I thought it would be neat to combine the two concepts. Food and love notes. But now, with a larger family, there would be love notes for all four of us. I bought some post-it note paper that came in four different colours. Tara picked green, Quinn picked orange, you got blue and I got the hot pink. I handed out the papers so that everyone got five papers of each other’s colours. Then we each went to a quiet spot in the house and wrote our secret love notes to the person who matched the colour. We each made up 15 love notes and I handed out chocolate hearts to be hidden with each note.
Then the fun began. We each hid the love notes and chocolate hearts throughout the house. It was great! Tara took great pride on secretly writing hers. Quinn still needed a little help. By the time I got to write my love notes, I was out of creative energy and wrote rather lame ‘I Love …”. You did the best. Your ‘I Love …’ notes were heart felt and inspired and very meaningful. We all voted you the MVP of ‘I Love You’ note making game!
This year I thought of a twist. Like any good game, there has to be a twist to keep you on your toes. “This year’s twist should be, in addition to the ‘I Love …’ notes for the other three people in the family, we should each also have to write a ‘I Love … note to ourselves.” You aren’t so sure that you can do this. I continue to apply a little pressure. “It’s important to recognized that you need to love yourself too.” I add “It’s a good lesson for the children.” You agree it’s a good idea but I think more to get me off your case then to embrace the idea.
Recently, on a blog comment, someone posted the idea of a vision board. I didn’t know what a vision board was. I goggled it. Essentially it can be anything you want it to be about anything you want it to be. In our case, it could be a family project to help us envision what life will be like when you are home.
I hadn’t got to tell you about the idea yet, but today you actually came up with the idea on your own. “I see the words ‘work’, ‘effort’ and ‘recovery’ – I feel I have an excuse to avoid things.” The excuse is the stroke. I feel that I have to stop that thinking in the bud. “That sounds like a circular argument to me – Your stroke damaged your brain so your recovery is going to be hard. A hard recovery is too much for a person with brain damage. So you can’t do it.
When I point out that this is a defeatist attitude. You switch your thinking to the huge circle of friends and family who are rooting for you. You start to talk about a motivational wall in the house. Something that grounds you emotionally when you feel stuck or hit ‘the wall’. Something that will say to you ‘take 29 steps’. This sounds like a vision board.
I mention my idea of writing and how therapeutic it’s been. I tell you that I find therapy in it when I write the words and when I read the words later. (even through I don’t proofread all that well). It’s like a conversation with myself. I talk (write) and read (listen) to myself. I am my own best friend and it helps me. There are times i get stuck. That’s when I share with others who have the vision to see things from a different perspective. It’s difficult to share with others if you can’t put your feelings into words.
“It could be gibberish.” You say. “Yeah – I think a lot of mine is gibberish but it belongs to me so it makes sense to me. Your gibberish belongs to you. It will help.
You are frustrated that everything takes so long. I share with you my observation about the laundry machines downstairs. On the machine is a long list of tasks that the machine does. ‘Add garment’, ‘wash’, ‘rinse’, ‘spin’, ‘cycle complete. By each task is a light and as the machine goes through the cycle, a light indicates where in the cycle it is.
In some ways your recovery is like that. We don’t know how long you will be at each phase of your recovery, we just know that the recovery is long. When one phase stops and another starts isn’t as clear as on the machine.
Your goal is measured by the tasks completed, not by the time passed.
You wanted to hear about the day of your stroke. I told you from my prospective, how the day played out. About your run on the Cobequid trail, and your red face, about the phone call from Uncle John, the EMTs in the house and the fireman talking to the children. I told you about me talking to the doctor and getting scared and about the ‘No hope’ conversation. I told you that somehow I managed to tell the children, though I don’t even remember it much. Then I called your parents. The phone call is a blank also. The only words I remember are “No hope.” I told you about what I thought and felt and my sorrow.
You wished you could have been there to help us through that rough day. “You were there in spirit and the next day you gave us a sign. The CT scan was the sign that you where going to live.
“We had a good life with our family in Truro. Our lives have changed forever. And we don’t even know the magnitude of it yet.” I try to say lightheartedly “Well when you are given lemons in life, you can make lemonade.” You take this concept one step further. “When someone deals you a load of shit … you make shittenade.”
We talk about the old you and the new you. “The old Chris died Aug 30th. He took the smoking, gambling, running and driving away with him.” You said and you worry that the funny Chris died too. I assure you that the funny Chris is alive and well and possibly better then ever.
“I might be better than ever.” A healthy mindset is developing. “I want to show all the great people who supported me that I am worthy of their support.” Your story has an aspect in it that a lot of people can relate to. The struggles to overcome your weaknesses and illness and still thrive – you have the potential to make it an inspirational story.
You have a problem with forgiveness. “The problem is that I made a decision that the cigarettes were more important then you, the family and even the possibilities for the future. I choose cigarettes over all of you.” I point out that you also choose cigarettes over yourself. Every time you lit up, you cheated on yourself. No wonder you can’t forgive yourself.
“What were your roles in life before your stroke.” I ask you. “A father, a husband, a friend, a runner, a woodworker, an employee.” I add to your list: “A son and a brother. Most of the really important roles you can still do.” I say. “ Some of the roles you won’t be able to do but you can replace them and recreate yourself. So instead of a runner, you are a walker, or a cyclist on a special bicycle. Instead of a woodworker, you are a one handed wood carver."
You are trying to picture your role in our family. A very special unique role – something I can be proud of. It will happen whether I want it to or not .
Beat the odds and make the best recovery or more disability
I leave to go home, parting is hard as usual. I head to Juanita’s for dinner and to pick up the children. They had a choir concert in Truro today. They were both very excited about the concert. “One song is going to be taped and put on youtube!” Tara says with her eye gleaming.
At dinner, Mum asks “What’s all this about smoking and gambling? Is he just joking.” Like most of us, Mum has never figured out when you are joking and when you are serious. “It’s true Mum. He gambled but he beat that a long time ago and he hasn’t smoked in over 5 months now.” The children wonder what the gambling is all about. Tara was six months when you gave up gambling the last time. We never really discussed it with the children.
I explain how poisonous gambling is and how it trains your brain to take money from one machine (bank machine) and fed it to another machine. “Well that’s just stupid!” Tara exclaims. “It may seem that way but smart people can be trained to have a gambling problem.”
I explain how the ‘Gotcha’ system, they have in their school, operates the same way. If a teacher sees a child do something good and follow the rules, then they get given a Gotcha ticket. At the end of the week, a Gotcha is drawn out of the box of all the earned Gotchas that accumulated in the classroom that week. One lucky child wins a prize! Both Tara and Quinn have been Gotcha winners in the past. Now, they feel good just to get a Gotcha – they don’t need to win a prize to feel good about themselves.
At bedtime, your phone call with Tara was about gambling. Tara asks a lot of thoughtful questions. She is trying to understand. I don’t hear your side of the conversation, just hers at the end of the call she says “You have a ton of determination Daddy!”
Tara is partly right you did have a ton of determination. I don’t see much of it now. There are flickers but no flame. Finding your determination is our next struggle. Without determination, you have nothing.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday February 6 - What’s Random and What’s a Sign?
I am struggling to keep things together today. You are very insecure about your role in our future. At first when you expressed doubts and worrying that you’d loose me, I handled it. I told you what you meant to me and I backed up my words with actions. Actions like the life that I’ve been living since this started. My day revolves around you and your care and future. When it isn’t about you, then it’s about the children. I tell that I wouldn’t have it any other way. This life I am living is a life of choice. I choose it because I love you and want you in my life.
I thought that was enough. It wasn’t. By the end of the day, I got frustrated with you being stuck emotionally. I don’t know what to do to un-stick you.
You are angry with yourself. You can’t forgive yourself. Without forgiveness, there is no healing. Without healing you can’t love yourself. If you can’t love yourself, then you don’t feel worthy for my love or the children’s love.
I forgave you. I forgave you before you even told me about the cigarettes. I strongly suspected that you were a closet smoker during the first week of your stroke when I found the cigarettes. I forgave you by the second week.
Why are you so hard on yourself? You are worthy of forgiveness.
On Thursday, two doctors came to see you. They gave you a copy of two of the CT scans you had. The one that changed you future and saved your life and a follow-up one taken just before you were moved back to Truro. This Aug 31 CT showed the big blood clot expanding into the ventricles. The October CT showed the damaged area of your brain. The doctors who showed you the CT scans said that there was no identifiable reason for the stroke.
You did not cause this to happen. Yet you continue to feel that you deserved it.
“If you deserved it,” my logical brain said “Then what did the children and I do to deserve this because we are suffering too.” You had no answer. Why? Because there is no answer. No one deserves a tragic event in their life. Random things happen. You have to accept that God is not punishing you for smoking or anything else. God is nurturing not vengeful. God is trying to give you strength to heal and grow.
You made me a card in the recreational therapy. It has a little jewel glued to the cover. It opens oddly. It opens to the right. If you compared it to a conventional card, the front is on the back and the back is on the front. This is anything but a conventional card. You express poetic words of love for me. I am touched.
The children and you and I have lunch and are joined shortly after by Juanita and Wayne and Maddie and Farley. This afternoon, we babysat the children while Juanita and Wayne go off to see Avatar. The children are good, they play together fairly quietly. Tara and Quinn keep Maddie corralled in the room. Farley gets hungry and we fed him. I put him in your bed with you. He is nestled in your left armpit. He fell sleep contently. I point out that your left arm is still a nice pillow of a baby.
Anne and her Dad, Tony, came to visit. You haven’t seen Anne in a few years. You credit her with giving you the nudge to run. That was the nudge that propelled you into the streak. The three of you talk and you shared you secret about smoking but only after you probe her about her love life. “Are you engaged?” “When is the date?” Anne is a wonderful lady and you want her to find someone special to have in her life. She thinks that she has.
How can you be so supportive and caring about others when you can’t be supportive emotionally for yourself?
It’s laundry day today. A week’s worth of smelly clothes are taking on a new life form in your closet. I spend a good part of the day running back and forth to the laundry room. Luckily, the laundry facilities are on the fourth floor. The machines are large and have a timer on them to let you know how long the cycle will be. The problem is the units are not minutes. I don’t know what they are but they are not minutes. ‘45’ the machine says. When I came back in one hour, there was still a ‘1’ reading on the machine. I sit and wait for the ‘1’ to vanish. It does … 15 minutes later. The same time measure system seemed to apply to the drier.
Is this a subliminal message the rehab people give their patients?. ‘Healing time is not measurable. If you expect to be able to measure it – it will just frustrate you.’ If this is the intent, then it works. Sitting and watching a machine go around and around puts your mind in a hypnotic trance that allows you to think crazy things.
As I did your laundry, I met a lady doing hers. She was in a wheelchair which she self- propelled using her left foot. Her left arm was protected in a sling. She nimbly loaded her items into the washer and drier with her good right arm without a swear word. As I watch her, I realize that once again, I am enabling your disability. You should be doing your own laundry. Then maybe you would get the washing machine subliminal message.
On the way back from the laundry room, I noticed a plague on the wall by the elevators. I had seen it before but I never took the time to read it. It is entitled ‘Coping’.
“Realize that your feelings are a common response to your experience.
Recognize that there is a natural human tendency to worry and focus on the negative. Learn to focus on your accomplishments, strengths and resources.
Think about the future you want and the best way to get there.
Be kind to yourself, allow yourself and others time to adjust.
Remain active. Try to find things you enjoy.
Try to find things you enjoy.
Make new friends and keep the old ones too.”
Adapted from Dr. Jeff Kreutzer at the Acquired Brain Injury Network. Toronto 2004.
It makes it sound easy ... Almost too easy. Maybe that is why is it so hard.
Fran and Mum arrive just before Juanita and Wayne get back from the movie. We order in pizza and Juanita Fran and I make a run to Timmy’s. While we do this you tell my Mum about the smoking. She thought you were joking. She didn’t really get it until I walked her out to the car later in the evening. I told her again. You are glad you told her. “The more people who know” you said “the more people whom I am accountable to.”
Janice, Edwin and Jessie (their youngest) stopped in on their way back from a Basketball tournament. Their two youngest daughters play on the team. “How did you do?” I asked. “We won!” said Jessie with a shy smile.
Janice tells me about the visit with you on Friday. They visited at a low spot. You tell them that you don’t want to be a burden. You are stuck on this thought. Janice tries to snap you out of your self-pity. “Just think what our lives would be if you had died.” When you start to go down another bad path. “What do I do if I need to get up in the middle of the night? Wake up Gwen? I can’t do anything.” She challenges you again. Stop thinking about what you can’t do and start thinking about what you can do.” You recognize these rebuttals as being familiar. You reply to Janice “Oh you are all taking the same course!”
Edwin and you talk. He is soaking up the humour that you are pouring out. “He should be a ‘Sit-down’ comic.” Edwin tells Janice after their visit with you on Friday.
Before I leave the circle of sorrow starts to spin again. Anger, can’t forgive, can’t love yourself, can’t heal, can’t grow. I can’t take it much longer. What can I do or say to help you through this? As I say this to myself, the words of the gentleman, who had a serious stroke 14 years ago and I met earlier this week, ring in my ear. ‘The journey must come from within. It’s a lonely journey.’
If you can’t get past this terrible circle of anger, then how are you ever going to heal from this? What can I use to nudge you into mental wellness? Tonight, when I Ieave you, we are both sad. You are sad because you are sorry. I am sad because you won’t stop saying you are sorry. How are you ever going to heal?
As I unpack the car for the night’s stay at Lenore’s, my necklace breaks, This is the heart necklace that Janice gave me in November. A glass heart with black swirls throughout it. She gave it to me because she felt it represented the complicated feelings that I had for you. I wore it every day since. It had broken before but I fixed it without giving it a second thought. Today when it broke, I wondered “Is this just another random event or a sign.’ I guess it depends on my mood. Tonight I worry that it’s a sign.
I thought that was enough. It wasn’t. By the end of the day, I got frustrated with you being stuck emotionally. I don’t know what to do to un-stick you.
You are angry with yourself. You can’t forgive yourself. Without forgiveness, there is no healing. Without healing you can’t love yourself. If you can’t love yourself, then you don’t feel worthy for my love or the children’s love.
I forgave you. I forgave you before you even told me about the cigarettes. I strongly suspected that you were a closet smoker during the first week of your stroke when I found the cigarettes. I forgave you by the second week.
Why are you so hard on yourself? You are worthy of forgiveness.
On Thursday, two doctors came to see you. They gave you a copy of two of the CT scans you had. The one that changed you future and saved your life and a follow-up one taken just before you were moved back to Truro. This Aug 31 CT showed the big blood clot expanding into the ventricles. The October CT showed the damaged area of your brain. The doctors who showed you the CT scans said that there was no identifiable reason for the stroke.
You did not cause this to happen. Yet you continue to feel that you deserved it.
“If you deserved it,” my logical brain said “Then what did the children and I do to deserve this because we are suffering too.” You had no answer. Why? Because there is no answer. No one deserves a tragic event in their life. Random things happen. You have to accept that God is not punishing you for smoking or anything else. God is nurturing not vengeful. God is trying to give you strength to heal and grow.
You made me a card in the recreational therapy. It has a little jewel glued to the cover. It opens oddly. It opens to the right. If you compared it to a conventional card, the front is on the back and the back is on the front. This is anything but a conventional card. You express poetic words of love for me. I am touched.
The children and you and I have lunch and are joined shortly after by Juanita and Wayne and Maddie and Farley. This afternoon, we babysat the children while Juanita and Wayne go off to see Avatar. The children are good, they play together fairly quietly. Tara and Quinn keep Maddie corralled in the room. Farley gets hungry and we fed him. I put him in your bed with you. He is nestled in your left armpit. He fell sleep contently. I point out that your left arm is still a nice pillow of a baby.
Anne and her Dad, Tony, came to visit. You haven’t seen Anne in a few years. You credit her with giving you the nudge to run. That was the nudge that propelled you into the streak. The three of you talk and you shared you secret about smoking but only after you probe her about her love life. “Are you engaged?” “When is the date?” Anne is a wonderful lady and you want her to find someone special to have in her life. She thinks that she has.
How can you be so supportive and caring about others when you can’t be supportive emotionally for yourself?
It’s laundry day today. A week’s worth of smelly clothes are taking on a new life form in your closet. I spend a good part of the day running back and forth to the laundry room. Luckily, the laundry facilities are on the fourth floor. The machines are large and have a timer on them to let you know how long the cycle will be. The problem is the units are not minutes. I don’t know what they are but they are not minutes. ‘45’ the machine says. When I came back in one hour, there was still a ‘1’ reading on the machine. I sit and wait for the ‘1’ to vanish. It does … 15 minutes later. The same time measure system seemed to apply to the drier.
Is this a subliminal message the rehab people give their patients?. ‘Healing time is not measurable. If you expect to be able to measure it – it will just frustrate you.’ If this is the intent, then it works. Sitting and watching a machine go around and around puts your mind in a hypnotic trance that allows you to think crazy things.
As I did your laundry, I met a lady doing hers. She was in a wheelchair which she self- propelled using her left foot. Her left arm was protected in a sling. She nimbly loaded her items into the washer and drier with her good right arm without a swear word. As I watch her, I realize that once again, I am enabling your disability. You should be doing your own laundry. Then maybe you would get the washing machine subliminal message.
On the way back from the laundry room, I noticed a plague on the wall by the elevators. I had seen it before but I never took the time to read it. It is entitled ‘Coping’.
“Realize that your feelings are a common response to your experience.
Recognize that there is a natural human tendency to worry and focus on the negative. Learn to focus on your accomplishments, strengths and resources.
Think about the future you want and the best way to get there.
Be kind to yourself, allow yourself and others time to adjust.
Remain active. Try to find things you enjoy.
Try to find things you enjoy.
Make new friends and keep the old ones too.”
Adapted from Dr. Jeff Kreutzer at the Acquired Brain Injury Network. Toronto 2004.
It makes it sound easy ... Almost too easy. Maybe that is why is it so hard.
Fran and Mum arrive just before Juanita and Wayne get back from the movie. We order in pizza and Juanita Fran and I make a run to Timmy’s. While we do this you tell my Mum about the smoking. She thought you were joking. She didn’t really get it until I walked her out to the car later in the evening. I told her again. You are glad you told her. “The more people who know” you said “the more people whom I am accountable to.”
Janice, Edwin and Jessie (their youngest) stopped in on their way back from a Basketball tournament. Their two youngest daughters play on the team. “How did you do?” I asked. “We won!” said Jessie with a shy smile.
Janice tells me about the visit with you on Friday. They visited at a low spot. You tell them that you don’t want to be a burden. You are stuck on this thought. Janice tries to snap you out of your self-pity. “Just think what our lives would be if you had died.” When you start to go down another bad path. “What do I do if I need to get up in the middle of the night? Wake up Gwen? I can’t do anything.” She challenges you again. Stop thinking about what you can’t do and start thinking about what you can do.” You recognize these rebuttals as being familiar. You reply to Janice “Oh you are all taking the same course!”
Edwin and you talk. He is soaking up the humour that you are pouring out. “He should be a ‘Sit-down’ comic.” Edwin tells Janice after their visit with you on Friday.
Before I leave the circle of sorrow starts to spin again. Anger, can’t forgive, can’t love yourself, can’t heal, can’t grow. I can’t take it much longer. What can I do or say to help you through this? As I say this to myself, the words of the gentleman, who had a serious stroke 14 years ago and I met earlier this week, ring in my ear. ‘The journey must come from within. It’s a lonely journey.’
If you can’t get past this terrible circle of anger, then how are you ever going to heal from this? What can I use to nudge you into mental wellness? Tonight, when I Ieave you, we are both sad. You are sad because you are sorry. I am sad because you won’t stop saying you are sorry. How are you ever going to heal?
As I unpack the car for the night’s stay at Lenore’s, my necklace breaks, This is the heart necklace that Janice gave me in November. A glass heart with black swirls throughout it. She gave it to me because she felt it represented the complicated feelings that I had for you. I wore it every day since. It had broken before but I fixed it without giving it a second thought. Today when it broke, I wondered “Is this just another random event or a sign.’ I guess it depends on my mood. Tonight I worry that it’s a sign.
Tuesday February 2 to Friday February 5 – What’s Your Nudge?
This is the longest stretch of time I have spent apart from you. We talk every night on the phone. Once to say good night to the children and the second time is to say good night to each other. The first few calls were hard. You were overwhelmed with sorrow.
You start thinking about how you see yourself in social situations.
I wonder what is your motivation was to run every day. I thought it was to replace the gambling. It wasn’t because smoking replaced it. What was your nudge to run? If I could understand if then maybe I could help you find a nudge to get you closer to fighting for your recovery. What is your nudge now?
TUESDAY
Tuesday morning I had a different dream about you. I dreamt about bowling. I don’t know why bowling. I have never dreamed about bowling before. But the bowling was just the medium, not the message. The message was loud and clear. You were in my dream bowling. You were showing Tara and Quinn how you could bowl with a wheelchair. You propelled the chair with your right foot. You threw the ball with your right hand. You might have even got a fancy curve ball bowl throw into the game, just you’d done in the past when we went bowling.
I don’t know why this dream – maybe my subconscious is starting to accept the present reality and moving forward – reaching out to find good family activities to do together.
I met a client who had had a stroke 14 years ago. He said that the journey was long and solitary. He said that it’s a journey that comes from within. It is very hard to see the struggles from the outside.
Our nightly phone calls revealed all sorts of things:
You cried in OT. You were frustrated with a plan about what you will be able to do at home – you swore to vent your frustration – this offended the OT. You felt badly after.
You are getting to know the patient (I’ll call her J) who I had talked to on Monday. I hope her positive outlook is contagious. You had coffee with J today. She is scheduled for a surgery this week.
“I am feeling “a little down” You said. I think you seem a lot down – most of our conversation involved your tears. I know that depression is a lonely journey. I don’t know what to do to help you.
Worried that another stroke will be worse – you would want to die
If you can’t be strong for yourself – then be strong for us. This is a big hill and there is no end in sight but every hill ends and you can do it. “This will be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. I don’t want to be a burden - This is what I need to focus on.”
Psychology consult in the works
Electric wheel chair assessment done for a study.
“Are you scared?” You ask. “Yes” I answer. “When you are scared then get up and take 29 steps. 29 steps around the house. That will help you find focus.” You advise me.
It was a tough phone call. It was clear that we were both limping along in our marathons. At least we had each other to pep-talk each other.
WEDNESDAY
I had another dream about you and your disabilities. I couldn’t tell if it was a good dream or a bad dream. I don’t know if this is progress or regression.
This morning I tried to clean up the kitchen with only my right hand. It was hard and I didn't have to account for trying to balance while standing. I can see that there is going to be a big learning curve for you ... and for me to adjust.
In PT today you did extra leg exercises. You speak very highly of your PT and her student. It is a good relationship. Your PT has a motherly manner about her. I expect a lot of people with brain injury benefit from mothering.
Mothering is a delicate balance of nurturing but encouraging independence, cheerleading but teaching caution, giving goals but also rules to live by. Your PT does all this and more as she tries to guide you to your future. Whatever that may be.
Margaret, the retired minister from the church was in to visit you. The two of you share a conversation about God’s role in this journey. She suggested you talk to priest/clergy more frequently.
“I don’t think I cried today.” You said! The last two days have been hard to be away from you. You sounded so down over the phone. Tonight you sound much better.
You are really getting to know your OT. She is really very nice. I sensed that your OT was on your side from the start. It is a difficult job to try and bring down or change people’s expectations. This is what she has spent the last two weeks doing.
After our phone call I emailed the OT to make a few suggestions.
Martha helped me think of this idea last weekend. It seems a lot of what OT and PT do is 'training'. You are no stranger to this concept. The first 7 marathons that you ran, you trained on instinct and crazy ideas about diet and exercise. The last three marathons you changed your approach and trained by 'the book'. You had a schedule to train and you followed it. You stuck to it and it worked well for you.
If you had a training schedule, then you could use it as a guide. A training schedule in the form of a chart. A chart would serve several purposes. It will help fill the hours when you are not at appointments. It would help you be accountable and focused on the skills that you need to learn. If well designed, a chart could help you visually orient yourself to the left margin. Finally it would help you build your motor skills.
This system might help you keep on track. Small accomplishes each day will boost your is moral and help with you motivation to continue.
THURSDAY
You are happy tonight. Two doctors talked to you about your stroke. After reviewing the CT scans, they could find no reason for your stroke. You ask the doctors the burning question that has plagued you for the last few months. “Will it be safe for me to run again?” The reply was “You can run if you want.”
You advise me tonight, that you want to do a stress test first. “Just to be sure.”
PT has been more of the same. Standing. Walking. Walking on the Kinetron. You like the Kinetron exercise because it strengthens both legs.
Tonight you went to the RT event on the fourth floor. Karaoke. Karaoke has been a part time passion for you over the years. Your love of music spills over when a microphone is placed in your hand. Mostly in key, you would belt out the words as sincerely as any professional musician would, to the song playing.
Songs from the seventies and eighties are your favorite. Tonight you sang “I can’t fight this feeling anymore”.
“Things are starting to look up” You say. “I want to do things right.”
FRIDAY
The nurse manager called me today with a family meeting scheduled for Feb 15 @ 1:30. I want this meeting, but I am scared about what is going to come out of it. I keep telling myself that there is no point worrying about it until it happens. But it is hard.
You had a MRI today. It was loud inside the machine, but you were careful not to move. When you had the bone scan a few weeks ago, you feel that you annoyed the technician performing the test because you moved. She had to repeat it. You moved again. Today you announce proudly “I didn’t move at all.”
You started the day still feeling rather positive from the CT scan results that were reviewed with you the yesterday. You were feeling positive until the resident came to meet with you. She said that there would be many things that you would need a lot of help to do.
This brought you down again.
In the afternoon, Kerry’s friend, Paul Tingley, came to visit. He is the Para-Olympian, who won gold in sailing. He lives in Halifax. You had a great visit with him. He tried to persuade you to try sailing. You didn’t think you could do that. Instead he has challenged you to a ping pong game on the next visit!
Ping-pong. This is an indoor sport that you enjoy. When we moved into our house in 2005, the very first piece of furniture that you bought, for your man cave, was a ping-pong table. You designed and built paddle rack. You even had a hand at making paddles. You taught the children to play ping-pong. You tried to teach me, but between my bad eyes and terrible hand eye coordination, I was hopeless. My job was to retrieve the wild balls as they flew around the room.
You are looking forward to Paul’s next visit.
You had many visitors today. Recovering fellow stroke victim, Brewer and then later in the day, Harold. Fellow runners, Jody and Janice & Edwin. And finally Fran came back to Halifax on her way on to Newfoundland. You almost need a secretary to arrange your social engagements.
After dinner, I got Tara to call you, The two of you talk. Tara tells you all about her life over the last few days being careful not to miss the smallest detail. She tells you how much she loves math. “Ask me any times table question up to 12.” She said.
It was like the two of you were playing math catch over the phone. You threw out a few questions and she’d throw the answer right back. You get faster and so did she. Finally you ask 11x12 … she pauses and looks at me. I was only half listening to the conversation – at least that’s my defense. I reply 131. Tara says to you “Mummy says 131 but that doesn’t sound right.” That’s because it’s wrong.” You say. “It 132!” Tara glares at me. I just shrug my shoulder and say what I got used to saying over the years. “Well I guess you were right and I was wrong.” Tara tells you what I said. What ever you said made Tara smile.
As she hands the phone over to Quinn, she was all smiles. “Daddy is back.” She said. She listened to you talk to Quinn. From the one-word answers that Quinn was giving, we could both tell that you were teasing him. “Daddy is really back!” She repeats.
Quinn plays the piano for you over the phone. He is very proud of his accomplishment. So are you.
While tucking Tara and Quinn into bed. Tara is still smiles and repeats again as I kiss her good night, “Daddy is back”.
After the children are in bed, I call you back. You are in a good mood. You said something that I wanted to write down to be sure I got it right. You said “What has happened has lead to where I am now … and that’s a good place! I’m not smoking!”
Your positive mood falters a bit and you express a fear that I’ll leave you. “I am by your side now and forever.” I said. To this you quote a Dr. Seuss line from his book ‘Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?’ I used to say it when we were first married. “I’m so lucky ducky”. Actually I thought this was a direct quote, it turns out that I was wrong … again. But none the less, you quoted “I’m so lucky ducky’ back to me with your own twist of adding a “f word” adjective to the phrase.
Tara is right. You are back.
You start thinking about how you see yourself in social situations.
I wonder what is your motivation was to run every day. I thought it was to replace the gambling. It wasn’t because smoking replaced it. What was your nudge to run? If I could understand if then maybe I could help you find a nudge to get you closer to fighting for your recovery. What is your nudge now?
TUESDAY
Tuesday morning I had a different dream about you. I dreamt about bowling. I don’t know why bowling. I have never dreamed about bowling before. But the bowling was just the medium, not the message. The message was loud and clear. You were in my dream bowling. You were showing Tara and Quinn how you could bowl with a wheelchair. You propelled the chair with your right foot. You threw the ball with your right hand. You might have even got a fancy curve ball bowl throw into the game, just you’d done in the past when we went bowling.
I don’t know why this dream – maybe my subconscious is starting to accept the present reality and moving forward – reaching out to find good family activities to do together.
I met a client who had had a stroke 14 years ago. He said that the journey was long and solitary. He said that it’s a journey that comes from within. It is very hard to see the struggles from the outside.
Our nightly phone calls revealed all sorts of things:
You cried in OT. You were frustrated with a plan about what you will be able to do at home – you swore to vent your frustration – this offended the OT. You felt badly after.
You are getting to know the patient (I’ll call her J) who I had talked to on Monday. I hope her positive outlook is contagious. You had coffee with J today. She is scheduled for a surgery this week.
“I am feeling “a little down” You said. I think you seem a lot down – most of our conversation involved your tears. I know that depression is a lonely journey. I don’t know what to do to help you.
Worried that another stroke will be worse – you would want to die
If you can’t be strong for yourself – then be strong for us. This is a big hill and there is no end in sight but every hill ends and you can do it. “This will be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. I don’t want to be a burden - This is what I need to focus on.”
Psychology consult in the works
Electric wheel chair assessment done for a study.
“Are you scared?” You ask. “Yes” I answer. “When you are scared then get up and take 29 steps. 29 steps around the house. That will help you find focus.” You advise me.
It was a tough phone call. It was clear that we were both limping along in our marathons. At least we had each other to pep-talk each other.
WEDNESDAY
I had another dream about you and your disabilities. I couldn’t tell if it was a good dream or a bad dream. I don’t know if this is progress or regression.
This morning I tried to clean up the kitchen with only my right hand. It was hard and I didn't have to account for trying to balance while standing. I can see that there is going to be a big learning curve for you ... and for me to adjust.
In PT today you did extra leg exercises. You speak very highly of your PT and her student. It is a good relationship. Your PT has a motherly manner about her. I expect a lot of people with brain injury benefit from mothering.
Mothering is a delicate balance of nurturing but encouraging independence, cheerleading but teaching caution, giving goals but also rules to live by. Your PT does all this and more as she tries to guide you to your future. Whatever that may be.
Margaret, the retired minister from the church was in to visit you. The two of you share a conversation about God’s role in this journey. She suggested you talk to priest/clergy more frequently.
“I don’t think I cried today.” You said! The last two days have been hard to be away from you. You sounded so down over the phone. Tonight you sound much better.
You are really getting to know your OT. She is really very nice. I sensed that your OT was on your side from the start. It is a difficult job to try and bring down or change people’s expectations. This is what she has spent the last two weeks doing.
After our phone call I emailed the OT to make a few suggestions.
Martha helped me think of this idea last weekend. It seems a lot of what OT and PT do is 'training'. You are no stranger to this concept. The first 7 marathons that you ran, you trained on instinct and crazy ideas about diet and exercise. The last three marathons you changed your approach and trained by 'the book'. You had a schedule to train and you followed it. You stuck to it and it worked well for you.
If you had a training schedule, then you could use it as a guide. A training schedule in the form of a chart. A chart would serve several purposes. It will help fill the hours when you are not at appointments. It would help you be accountable and focused on the skills that you need to learn. If well designed, a chart could help you visually orient yourself to the left margin. Finally it would help you build your motor skills.
This system might help you keep on track. Small accomplishes each day will boost your is moral and help with you motivation to continue.
THURSDAY
You are happy tonight. Two doctors talked to you about your stroke. After reviewing the CT scans, they could find no reason for your stroke. You ask the doctors the burning question that has plagued you for the last few months. “Will it be safe for me to run again?” The reply was “You can run if you want.”
You advise me tonight, that you want to do a stress test first. “Just to be sure.”
PT has been more of the same. Standing. Walking. Walking on the Kinetron. You like the Kinetron exercise because it strengthens both legs.
Tonight you went to the RT event on the fourth floor. Karaoke. Karaoke has been a part time passion for you over the years. Your love of music spills over when a microphone is placed in your hand. Mostly in key, you would belt out the words as sincerely as any professional musician would, to the song playing.
Songs from the seventies and eighties are your favorite. Tonight you sang “I can’t fight this feeling anymore”.
“Things are starting to look up” You say. “I want to do things right.”
FRIDAY
The nurse manager called me today with a family meeting scheduled for Feb 15 @ 1:30. I want this meeting, but I am scared about what is going to come out of it. I keep telling myself that there is no point worrying about it until it happens. But it is hard.
You had a MRI today. It was loud inside the machine, but you were careful not to move. When you had the bone scan a few weeks ago, you feel that you annoyed the technician performing the test because you moved. She had to repeat it. You moved again. Today you announce proudly “I didn’t move at all.”
You started the day still feeling rather positive from the CT scan results that were reviewed with you the yesterday. You were feeling positive until the resident came to meet with you. She said that there would be many things that you would need a lot of help to do.
This brought you down again.
In the afternoon, Kerry’s friend, Paul Tingley, came to visit. He is the Para-Olympian, who won gold in sailing. He lives in Halifax. You had a great visit with him. He tried to persuade you to try sailing. You didn’t think you could do that. Instead he has challenged you to a ping pong game on the next visit!
Ping-pong. This is an indoor sport that you enjoy. When we moved into our house in 2005, the very first piece of furniture that you bought, for your man cave, was a ping-pong table. You designed and built paddle rack. You even had a hand at making paddles. You taught the children to play ping-pong. You tried to teach me, but between my bad eyes and terrible hand eye coordination, I was hopeless. My job was to retrieve the wild balls as they flew around the room.
You are looking forward to Paul’s next visit.
You had many visitors today. Recovering fellow stroke victim, Brewer and then later in the day, Harold. Fellow runners, Jody and Janice & Edwin. And finally Fran came back to Halifax on her way on to Newfoundland. You almost need a secretary to arrange your social engagements.
After dinner, I got Tara to call you, The two of you talk. Tara tells you all about her life over the last few days being careful not to miss the smallest detail. She tells you how much she loves math. “Ask me any times table question up to 12.” She said.
It was like the two of you were playing math catch over the phone. You threw out a few questions and she’d throw the answer right back. You get faster and so did she. Finally you ask 11x12 … she pauses and looks at me. I was only half listening to the conversation – at least that’s my defense. I reply 131. Tara says to you “Mummy says 131 but that doesn’t sound right.” That’s because it’s wrong.” You say. “It 132!” Tara glares at me. I just shrug my shoulder and say what I got used to saying over the years. “Well I guess you were right and I was wrong.” Tara tells you what I said. What ever you said made Tara smile.
As she hands the phone over to Quinn, she was all smiles. “Daddy is back.” She said. She listened to you talk to Quinn. From the one-word answers that Quinn was giving, we could both tell that you were teasing him. “Daddy is really back!” She repeats.
Quinn plays the piano for you over the phone. He is very proud of his accomplishment. So are you.
While tucking Tara and Quinn into bed. Tara is still smiles and repeats again as I kiss her good night, “Daddy is back”.
After the children are in bed, I call you back. You are in a good mood. You said something that I wanted to write down to be sure I got it right. You said “What has happened has lead to where I am now … and that’s a good place! I’m not smoking!”
Your positive mood falters a bit and you express a fear that I’ll leave you. “I am by your side now and forever.” I said. To this you quote a Dr. Seuss line from his book ‘Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?’ I used to say it when we were first married. “I’m so lucky ducky”. Actually I thought this was a direct quote, it turns out that I was wrong … again. But none the less, you quoted “I’m so lucky ducky’ back to me with your own twist of adding a “f word” adjective to the phrase.
Tara is right. You are back.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Monday February 1 – One Hand to Two Legs
This morning I couldn’t find you. You were supposed to be in OT, but you weren’t. While looking for you, I did find Dr Askari. She answered a lot of the questions and concerns that I had about your care. There have been many little times that have cropped up and collectively – they have created a bit of anxiety for me lately. Dr. Askari was great to patiently answer all my concerns.
After my talk with Dr Askari, you found me looking for you. It turns out that you had a date with the bathroom and couldn’t get away in time for the OT appointment. Dr Askari comes in to visit you. You ask about your MRI and you felt if you could see it, then you would understand more about what is going on inside of you. “It showed a big hemorrhage.” she said. You feel that the measure of damage in the MRI would reflect the measure of God’s estimation of you as a person.
You still feel that God is punishing you for your crimes. God is not vengeful. God’s role with you is to help you through this. Help you find a way to grow through this experience. God saved you because you are needed here and you have more to learn. This is not punishment, this is an opportunity for growth.
You tell Dr. Askari that you don’t want to stay longer then March 11 because there is so much to do when you get home. She emphasizes that this date is tentative. A lot depends on your improvement over the next few weeks. She has a very patient way about her.
At your PT session, they put a special vibrating machine on your arm to help with stimulating some feedback to your brain from the muscles. This is another way to help wake up your brain and allow the opposing muscles to relax and stretch. You feel the vibration in all the spots that the PT puts it. Until now, it seems like the PT has been concentrating on your balance and leg. I am heartened to see that they are working with your arm some too.
It was explained to me that the OT concentrates on the arm and hand, whereas the PT works with the leg. It’s my impression that PT tries to restore function whereas OT helps you learn to deal with your dysfunction. The two disciplines seem to work closely together.
You joke with the PT’s that you have been started on a new clot buster. “New clot buster? But you had a hemorrhagic stroke – you shouldn’t be on a clot buster!” she says a little surprised. You didn’t let her response prevent you from delivering the punch line. “Well they did! – It’s Draino!” The PT student smiled.
It’s so good to see your humour emerging.
You get many comments about your nail polish. “I don’t know if I can work with someone with nails like that!” your PT says. You smile and explain that you had a make over on the weekend. Hair cut and nails.
As you walk between the parallel bars I talk with another patient. She has been here since November. She had 2 strokes in less then 24 hours. Like you, she was left with left-sided weakness. She is walking now with a leg brace too but she doesn’t need the parallel bars any more. Unlike your big clumsy leg brace that fits over your shoe, her brace is small and fits inside her running shoe. The OT made it especially for her. Both the leg brace designs do the same thing. They lock the ankle in a fixed position so that your knee is steadier.
As I talk with her, I realize that she is a very resilient gal. She looks to be in her late twenties. She is a RCMP officer. She has a very calm way about her with undercurrents of a feisty “I know I can” attitude. I hope you two become friends.
Your PT says that the afternoon sessions will start tomorrow. At these sessions you will do some work on the kinetron along with some other activities.
After PT we go on a coffee run. We talk along the way. You are frustrated that your time here may be extended. If it is – it’s not a failure – it’s a success – it means there maybe more that they can do with you. It’s still early to know what parts of you are going to wake up. More could still come back. We have to be patient.
We both agree that weekend passes would be great – it will make this experience seem a little more like a job with breaks between where you can practice what you have learned rather then a prison sentence.
You told me that you would make an effort to write down your thoughts and feelings. I applaud the idea. This therapy has proven to be a very good exercise for me, I think it will help you too.
One of the other wives on the floor talked to us as we made our way back to your room. Her husband is an enthusiastic cyclist. He was hit by a car, while cycling, and sustained significant head injuries. His wife expressed frustration with his rehab experience. It turns out we have a lot of the same concerns.
Despite this, she is a tireless vocal advocate for her husband. She shares with me her secret. “I have a flame inside that keeps me going” she says. “I have to protect it so that it doesn’t go out. People try to blow it out but I won’t let them.” Her husband still has a very long road to travel before he gets home. He is blessed to have her by his side. She is an inspiration and a source of strength.
Fran stopped into visit. She is on her way to Ottawa for a meeting. She decided to fly via Halifax to see you. You are happy to see her. She has been a pillar of strength for both of us. We eat lunch together and you share some of your dark thoughts about your situation. “I deserve this stroke. I was a bad person.”
You wonder if the children will ever see you the same way. Fran points out that children are resilient. They see you for who they know you to be. A loving father who is by their side. They will not see your leg brace or wheelchair or arm brace. They will see their Dad.
Fran visits with you while I go off to return some movies and get the weekly supply of coke and coffeemate. When I left the NSRC, I didn’t realize that I was wearing my stress on my face so much today. Fran saw it. At the video store the clerks saw it too.
There was one movie that we hadn’t seen yet. ‘Stand By Me’. When I returned the movies I was conflicted as whether I would return them all or just to two we’d seen. We had both enjoyed this movie when it came out in the 80’s. I thought it would be a good story for the children.
I wrestled aloud with the idea whether to keep it until the weekend and have it a day late or just return it now and not let the children see it. The clerk is very nice and offers me a mail-in envelope. Oh gosh, now the decision is just getting harder. He sees me struggling to hold it together. “I’ll put a note in the computer and you can just return anytime this weekend.” He says. I thank him and start to leave. Then I realized the valuable resource I was about to walk away from. I went back in the store. It wasn’t busy and there were two clerks behind the desk. I tell them that I was looking for movies that would be motivational. I empty my heart with the details of your stroke and your marathon to come back to us. “Chris is the movie-guy in our family. He has good taste and always gets good movies. I am not very good at this job.”
You still tease me about the time I rented the ‘Great Escape’ twice within a month. One day after work, I thought I would surprise you with a movie. I carefully looked over the selections and came across the ‘Great Escape’. It looked good and I was certain you would like it. It turns out that I was right. You did like it … the first time you saw it … with me a few years before. But we watched it anyway. A few weeks later I had another opportunity to rent a movie. Still basking in the glow of the successful movie selection the last time, I went to the store confident that I could find a good movie.
I had completely forgot what movie that I had rented. So when I came across the copy of the ‘Great Escape’ I thought ‘Wow Chris likes that type of movie, I’ll get it.’ So I rented it again and I didn’t even realize Déjà vu aspect of the situation until you pointed it out to me. You have reminded me of this many times since. This happened long before the children entered our lives, but they have heard the story. It now is a permanent part of our family history. For us it’s like a very old private joke between us.
You have always been better at picking movies because to me a movie is just a movie. A way to spend a few hours relaxing. For you a good movie is a real experience to be cherished. Good movies, especially ones based on true stories are powerful medicine to you.
I enlist the clerks’ to find movies that you might find moving and inspirational. “Inspirational movies where the little guy beats the odds with nothing but passion and determination.” I said. In about two minutes I have a list of movies that they thought of off the top of their heads! Cinderella Man, My Left Foot, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and Prefontaine.
Back at the hospital, Fran approaches your prognosis from a different angle. Being a marine biology scientist, she tends to approach things in life using statistics and data as the foundation for understanding. She points out that you were 1 of 2 people who survived out of 700 similar cases. That’s a very small sample size to draw conclusions on. The fact is, the medical community doesn’t have a lot of information about your type of brain damage. They can only speculate how you will turn out. Only time will tell.
We have to remember that the medical community first thought about you was this is serious. They were right. Their second thought was that you would die. They were wrong. They are only right half the time.
The OT assistant puts your left hand and arm through it’s range of motions. Both the OT and her assistant comment on the beautiful blue nails that you have. As your arm gets stretched, I talk with your OT. She feels that you left side neglect is improving. You scan better to the left. I struggle with the concept because it seems to me that we should keep challenging you. I have been setting up your food tray so that the interesting things are to your left. Lately you have found all your favorite foods on the tray. The OT feels you are picking up the left side more no matter what we do in terms of arranging your environment. Last week, when the OT observed you do your self care. When you bathed you washed both sides without a prompt. You have improved.
The OT feels that to change beds at this point may not really help you. You need to learn about the randomness of the world. She is also concerned that it would be harder for you to transfer out of your bed to your chair if you were across the room.
I ask about the role of recreational therapy. The term sounds interesting but I haven’t seen any specific recreational activities that allow you to develop skills. I would have thought that assistance in reading might be a goal. Or playing games that require you to use as much field of vision as possible. But so far all I’ve seen of RT is a word game and name that tune games. Both of which you did well. The other role that the RT volunteers play for you is that of your coffee Sherpas. They help you get coffee ... coffee with cream. Not very therapeutic.
Rehabilitation’s goal is to get you to a point of independent living. The OT describes what independent looks like. You express your concern that you don’t want to be a burden but in the same breath you wonder aloud how you would be able to contribute to the wellbeing of the family. Yesterday you spilt a large coffee over yourself, not once but twice within hours of each other. “If I can’t keep a coffee upright, how am I going to cook a meal for the family?” You said.
“Are you willing to accept that you will need adaptive aids to help you do things.” The OT asks. “No” you say “I don’t want to accept them but I know that I must accept them.” She rallies you with the thought that adaptive aids are possibly ‘for now’ but not ‘forever’. As time goes, you might be able to cast them aside. Adaptive aids allow you more independence.
“I want to be a functional part of our home.” You said.
We make a list of short term and long term goals to enable you to function at home. One of my concerns is that you will not be able to climb and descend stairs. With our home, there are three sets of stairs. We all love our house. It’s a home. I don’t want to move. You don’t want to move.
I come to realize that the OT is a part time tight-rope walker. She has the tricky job of finding the balance between be realistic and hopeful. Too much of either is a dangerous thing.
After the OT meeting, Kerry comes to visit. Kerry has been following your story from the beginning. She had never met us before. We knew of each other through the children’s youth fun run. We have been involved in this event the last two years and Kerry is instrumental in organizing it. Kerry also a runner who is sidelined with an injury.
She admits that she has a great job. “I get to talk to kids about healthy living.”
You want to make a difference for others. “Maybe if I talk to kids about my smoking, maybe I can change one child’s mind about smoking then it would be worth it.”
Kerry tells us about an acquaintance she knows from her spin class. He is a student who is doing some work on left side neglect for a master’s paper. She thought it involved video games to help stimulate the right side of the brain. I make a mental note to find out more about it.
If rehab is the training for the marathon, as the doctor said, then what does your training look like now? Kerry said that satisfaction of training for her is knowing that she was tough enough mentally to accomplish it. I think about your training. The real challenge is the mental part. The mental game of challenging yourself to achieve a goal. That’s the hard part. “It’s hard to take the psyche of what you are used to being as a person and suddenly overnight change.” She says.
As we talked, I removed your nail polish. Kerry has a friend, Paul who is special. He survived and thrived as a Para-Olympian in sailing. He is an inspiring individual. He won a gold medal in the last Olympics. She hopes to arrange a meeting between you and Paul. Paul had to come to terms with his disability and at some point he decided to not let his disability to define him. As a result he has thrived. This is something that you need to do.
Today seems like it was a good day. You were in your chair the whole day and you didn’t watch TV at all! You decided that from now on, the obstacles that you come across – you are going to take as challenges. This is your epiphany for the day. That’s Progress!
Tonight I removed the nail polish from Quinn’s nails. He got teased today about it. He doesn’t feel that bad about it but he would rather not be the subject of teasing. So together we remove it. I tell him that you got your nail polish removed too. I said that you were teased too. He feels better that he is following your lead. You are still a major influence in his life.
Valerie is here tonight to cover me while I’m on call. The other day, Val asked me how I decided on a life plan. I have always been fortunate to be able to see my future. So far everything I have seen has come true. Until now. I had hoped that as the children got older, we could travel and I could work as a veterinarian for short periods of time.
It is like we got off the marathon course. Now we have to refocus the life plan. I think that I can see a way through all this for me. By finding my path, perhaps I can help you find yours. Together, we will get through this.
It’s funny how little things that happen throughout the day can hold such meaning later at the end of the day. Tonight, I ordered the book that the OT suggested called ‘One Handed in a Two Handed World’. She had lent me her copy of it and said it had a lot of useful tips on using one hand. You weren’t thrilled with the book. You didn’t even look at it when I was there.
Tonight I was on the internet, looking for it. As I looked, I found another book written by the same author - ‘Teaching Me To Run’ by Tommye K. Mayer. ‘Teaching Me To Run’ is about Tommye’s post-stroke struggle to learn to run again. Finding this book makes me believe that it must be a sign. I thought I was past the ‘looking for a sign’ stage, but apparently, I’m not.
I decided to order both the books. We will start with one hand and move to two legs.
NOTE TO READERS: Chris has always been the driving force behind the movies that we watch. Now I need help to find the movies that he would find inspirational and motivational. If you have a movie title that you reach for in your mind when you are in a bad spot please post the title in the comment section of the blog or email me at: ccashen@eastlink.ca, so that I may rent it.
After my talk with Dr Askari, you found me looking for you. It turns out that you had a date with the bathroom and couldn’t get away in time for the OT appointment. Dr Askari comes in to visit you. You ask about your MRI and you felt if you could see it, then you would understand more about what is going on inside of you. “It showed a big hemorrhage.” she said. You feel that the measure of damage in the MRI would reflect the measure of God’s estimation of you as a person.
You still feel that God is punishing you for your crimes. God is not vengeful. God’s role with you is to help you through this. Help you find a way to grow through this experience. God saved you because you are needed here and you have more to learn. This is not punishment, this is an opportunity for growth.
You tell Dr. Askari that you don’t want to stay longer then March 11 because there is so much to do when you get home. She emphasizes that this date is tentative. A lot depends on your improvement over the next few weeks. She has a very patient way about her.
At your PT session, they put a special vibrating machine on your arm to help with stimulating some feedback to your brain from the muscles. This is another way to help wake up your brain and allow the opposing muscles to relax and stretch. You feel the vibration in all the spots that the PT puts it. Until now, it seems like the PT has been concentrating on your balance and leg. I am heartened to see that they are working with your arm some too.
It was explained to me that the OT concentrates on the arm and hand, whereas the PT works with the leg. It’s my impression that PT tries to restore function whereas OT helps you learn to deal with your dysfunction. The two disciplines seem to work closely together.
You joke with the PT’s that you have been started on a new clot buster. “New clot buster? But you had a hemorrhagic stroke – you shouldn’t be on a clot buster!” she says a little surprised. You didn’t let her response prevent you from delivering the punch line. “Well they did! – It’s Draino!” The PT student smiled.
It’s so good to see your humour emerging.
You get many comments about your nail polish. “I don’t know if I can work with someone with nails like that!” your PT says. You smile and explain that you had a make over on the weekend. Hair cut and nails.
As you walk between the parallel bars I talk with another patient. She has been here since November. She had 2 strokes in less then 24 hours. Like you, she was left with left-sided weakness. She is walking now with a leg brace too but she doesn’t need the parallel bars any more. Unlike your big clumsy leg brace that fits over your shoe, her brace is small and fits inside her running shoe. The OT made it especially for her. Both the leg brace designs do the same thing. They lock the ankle in a fixed position so that your knee is steadier.
As I talk with her, I realize that she is a very resilient gal. She looks to be in her late twenties. She is a RCMP officer. She has a very calm way about her with undercurrents of a feisty “I know I can” attitude. I hope you two become friends.
Your PT says that the afternoon sessions will start tomorrow. At these sessions you will do some work on the kinetron along with some other activities.
After PT we go on a coffee run. We talk along the way. You are frustrated that your time here may be extended. If it is – it’s not a failure – it’s a success – it means there maybe more that they can do with you. It’s still early to know what parts of you are going to wake up. More could still come back. We have to be patient.
We both agree that weekend passes would be great – it will make this experience seem a little more like a job with breaks between where you can practice what you have learned rather then a prison sentence.
You told me that you would make an effort to write down your thoughts and feelings. I applaud the idea. This therapy has proven to be a very good exercise for me, I think it will help you too.
One of the other wives on the floor talked to us as we made our way back to your room. Her husband is an enthusiastic cyclist. He was hit by a car, while cycling, and sustained significant head injuries. His wife expressed frustration with his rehab experience. It turns out we have a lot of the same concerns.
Despite this, she is a tireless vocal advocate for her husband. She shares with me her secret. “I have a flame inside that keeps me going” she says. “I have to protect it so that it doesn’t go out. People try to blow it out but I won’t let them.” Her husband still has a very long road to travel before he gets home. He is blessed to have her by his side. She is an inspiration and a source of strength.
Fran stopped into visit. She is on her way to Ottawa for a meeting. She decided to fly via Halifax to see you. You are happy to see her. She has been a pillar of strength for both of us. We eat lunch together and you share some of your dark thoughts about your situation. “I deserve this stroke. I was a bad person.”
You wonder if the children will ever see you the same way. Fran points out that children are resilient. They see you for who they know you to be. A loving father who is by their side. They will not see your leg brace or wheelchair or arm brace. They will see their Dad.
Fran visits with you while I go off to return some movies and get the weekly supply of coke and coffeemate. When I left the NSRC, I didn’t realize that I was wearing my stress on my face so much today. Fran saw it. At the video store the clerks saw it too.
There was one movie that we hadn’t seen yet. ‘Stand By Me’. When I returned the movies I was conflicted as whether I would return them all or just to two we’d seen. We had both enjoyed this movie when it came out in the 80’s. I thought it would be a good story for the children.
I wrestled aloud with the idea whether to keep it until the weekend and have it a day late or just return it now and not let the children see it. The clerk is very nice and offers me a mail-in envelope. Oh gosh, now the decision is just getting harder. He sees me struggling to hold it together. “I’ll put a note in the computer and you can just return anytime this weekend.” He says. I thank him and start to leave. Then I realized the valuable resource I was about to walk away from. I went back in the store. It wasn’t busy and there were two clerks behind the desk. I tell them that I was looking for movies that would be motivational. I empty my heart with the details of your stroke and your marathon to come back to us. “Chris is the movie-guy in our family. He has good taste and always gets good movies. I am not very good at this job.”
You still tease me about the time I rented the ‘Great Escape’ twice within a month. One day after work, I thought I would surprise you with a movie. I carefully looked over the selections and came across the ‘Great Escape’. It looked good and I was certain you would like it. It turns out that I was right. You did like it … the first time you saw it … with me a few years before. But we watched it anyway. A few weeks later I had another opportunity to rent a movie. Still basking in the glow of the successful movie selection the last time, I went to the store confident that I could find a good movie.
I had completely forgot what movie that I had rented. So when I came across the copy of the ‘Great Escape’ I thought ‘Wow Chris likes that type of movie, I’ll get it.’ So I rented it again and I didn’t even realize Déjà vu aspect of the situation until you pointed it out to me. You have reminded me of this many times since. This happened long before the children entered our lives, but they have heard the story. It now is a permanent part of our family history. For us it’s like a very old private joke between us.
You have always been better at picking movies because to me a movie is just a movie. A way to spend a few hours relaxing. For you a good movie is a real experience to be cherished. Good movies, especially ones based on true stories are powerful medicine to you.
I enlist the clerks’ to find movies that you might find moving and inspirational. “Inspirational movies where the little guy beats the odds with nothing but passion and determination.” I said. In about two minutes I have a list of movies that they thought of off the top of their heads! Cinderella Man, My Left Foot, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and Prefontaine.
Back at the hospital, Fran approaches your prognosis from a different angle. Being a marine biology scientist, she tends to approach things in life using statistics and data as the foundation for understanding. She points out that you were 1 of 2 people who survived out of 700 similar cases. That’s a very small sample size to draw conclusions on. The fact is, the medical community doesn’t have a lot of information about your type of brain damage. They can only speculate how you will turn out. Only time will tell.
We have to remember that the medical community first thought about you was this is serious. They were right. Their second thought was that you would die. They were wrong. They are only right half the time.
The OT assistant puts your left hand and arm through it’s range of motions. Both the OT and her assistant comment on the beautiful blue nails that you have. As your arm gets stretched, I talk with your OT. She feels that you left side neglect is improving. You scan better to the left. I struggle with the concept because it seems to me that we should keep challenging you. I have been setting up your food tray so that the interesting things are to your left. Lately you have found all your favorite foods on the tray. The OT feels you are picking up the left side more no matter what we do in terms of arranging your environment. Last week, when the OT observed you do your self care. When you bathed you washed both sides without a prompt. You have improved.
The OT feels that to change beds at this point may not really help you. You need to learn about the randomness of the world. She is also concerned that it would be harder for you to transfer out of your bed to your chair if you were across the room.
I ask about the role of recreational therapy. The term sounds interesting but I haven’t seen any specific recreational activities that allow you to develop skills. I would have thought that assistance in reading might be a goal. Or playing games that require you to use as much field of vision as possible. But so far all I’ve seen of RT is a word game and name that tune games. Both of which you did well. The other role that the RT volunteers play for you is that of your coffee Sherpas. They help you get coffee ... coffee with cream. Not very therapeutic.
Rehabilitation’s goal is to get you to a point of independent living. The OT describes what independent looks like. You express your concern that you don’t want to be a burden but in the same breath you wonder aloud how you would be able to contribute to the wellbeing of the family. Yesterday you spilt a large coffee over yourself, not once but twice within hours of each other. “If I can’t keep a coffee upright, how am I going to cook a meal for the family?” You said.
“Are you willing to accept that you will need adaptive aids to help you do things.” The OT asks. “No” you say “I don’t want to accept them but I know that I must accept them.” She rallies you with the thought that adaptive aids are possibly ‘for now’ but not ‘forever’. As time goes, you might be able to cast them aside. Adaptive aids allow you more independence.
“I want to be a functional part of our home.” You said.
We make a list of short term and long term goals to enable you to function at home. One of my concerns is that you will not be able to climb and descend stairs. With our home, there are three sets of stairs. We all love our house. It’s a home. I don’t want to move. You don’t want to move.
I come to realize that the OT is a part time tight-rope walker. She has the tricky job of finding the balance between be realistic and hopeful. Too much of either is a dangerous thing.
After the OT meeting, Kerry comes to visit. Kerry has been following your story from the beginning. She had never met us before. We knew of each other through the children’s youth fun run. We have been involved in this event the last two years and Kerry is instrumental in organizing it. Kerry also a runner who is sidelined with an injury.
She admits that she has a great job. “I get to talk to kids about healthy living.”
You want to make a difference for others. “Maybe if I talk to kids about my smoking, maybe I can change one child’s mind about smoking then it would be worth it.”
Kerry tells us about an acquaintance she knows from her spin class. He is a student who is doing some work on left side neglect for a master’s paper. She thought it involved video games to help stimulate the right side of the brain. I make a mental note to find out more about it.
If rehab is the training for the marathon, as the doctor said, then what does your training look like now? Kerry said that satisfaction of training for her is knowing that she was tough enough mentally to accomplish it. I think about your training. The real challenge is the mental part. The mental game of challenging yourself to achieve a goal. That’s the hard part. “It’s hard to take the psyche of what you are used to being as a person and suddenly overnight change.” She says.
As we talked, I removed your nail polish. Kerry has a friend, Paul who is special. He survived and thrived as a Para-Olympian in sailing. He is an inspiring individual. He won a gold medal in the last Olympics. She hopes to arrange a meeting between you and Paul. Paul had to come to terms with his disability and at some point he decided to not let his disability to define him. As a result he has thrived. This is something that you need to do.
Today seems like it was a good day. You were in your chair the whole day and you didn’t watch TV at all! You decided that from now on, the obstacles that you come across – you are going to take as challenges. This is your epiphany for the day. That’s Progress!
Tonight I removed the nail polish from Quinn’s nails. He got teased today about it. He doesn’t feel that bad about it but he would rather not be the subject of teasing. So together we remove it. I tell him that you got your nail polish removed too. I said that you were teased too. He feels better that he is following your lead. You are still a major influence in his life.
Valerie is here tonight to cover me while I’m on call. The other day, Val asked me how I decided on a life plan. I have always been fortunate to be able to see my future. So far everything I have seen has come true. Until now. I had hoped that as the children got older, we could travel and I could work as a veterinarian for short periods of time.
It is like we got off the marathon course. Now we have to refocus the life plan. I think that I can see a way through all this for me. By finding my path, perhaps I can help you find yours. Together, we will get through this.
It’s funny how little things that happen throughout the day can hold such meaning later at the end of the day. Tonight, I ordered the book that the OT suggested called ‘One Handed in a Two Handed World’. She had lent me her copy of it and said it had a lot of useful tips on using one hand. You weren’t thrilled with the book. You didn’t even look at it when I was there.
Tonight I was on the internet, looking for it. As I looked, I found another book written by the same author - ‘Teaching Me To Run’ by Tommye K. Mayer. ‘Teaching Me To Run’ is about Tommye’s post-stroke struggle to learn to run again. Finding this book makes me believe that it must be a sign. I thought I was past the ‘looking for a sign’ stage, but apparently, I’m not.
I decided to order both the books. We will start with one hand and move to two legs.
NOTE TO READERS: Chris has always been the driving force behind the movies that we watch. Now I need help to find the movies that he would find inspirational and motivational. If you have a movie title that you reach for in your mind when you are in a bad spot please post the title in the comment section of the blog or email me at: ccashen@eastlink.ca, so that I may rent it.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Sunday January 31 – The Defender and the Weak
Once we got home last night and got children in bed, Martha and I had a great talk about you and your journey. She sees hope and potential. Her enthusiasm shines onto me and and I absorbed as much as I can.
Martha works at CHEO. A children’s hospital in Ottawa. She knows the system. She knows the work environment. She knows a lot. I gleam from her as much information as I can to continue to be your advocate.
We talk about your left side neglect. I have the impression from the OT that this is a big problem. It has improved lately but I am frustrated that the setup in your room isn’t oriented to the left to force you to interact with people on your left. The room mate across the room from you has been discharged and his bed had all things oriented to the left. It would make good sense to see if we can get you moved to that bed.
We discuss your leg lift today and your obvious desire to make a difference in your recovery. Since you only have one hour of physio and one hour of occupational therapy a day, perhaps there are things that you could work on your own. Martha suggested a chart that you fill out to keep track of what you do and how often. She recognizes that any exercises should not be done in excess. You muscles have not done much in five months.
Your need to take a ‘training approach’. A chart would serve three purposes. It would help you fill the hours when you are not at appointments. It would help you be accountable to yourself and keep you on track as well as help you visually orient you to the left margin if it were in a chart format. Finally it would help you build your motor skills. This seems like a great idea to me. I will take it to your OT and PT people.
Martha is a masters student as well as being a nurse. She understands the system of mentors, internships and externships within the medical community. She wondered if there might be some local PT or OT students who would take you on as a case study to further their career. This could be a win-win situation for both. Somehow I will figure out a plan to see if this is possible.
This morning, Tara is the first one up, She crawls into bed with me. She had a bad dream. We talk about her dream and what it meant. She comes to the conclusion that she is feeling social pressures at school. She feels a little outcast because she stands up for another child in her class. In grade four, social interactions start to get complicated.
I feel the pressure to help find a way through this rough spot. I know I can’t ‘fix’ her problems but I also know that as a mother, I want to protect her. She has so much to deal with right now, the last thing she needs is stress from school. I wished you were there to offer some words of advice and you are good seeing things from a different prospective. It hard trying to be both parents to a child at the same time.
Thankfully, just as I was stumbling through the situation with her, Martha got up. The three of us brainstorm to help her see her way. For the most part, I think she is a confident girl who believes in herself. I realized, at the end of our talk, that she just needed to know that we believed in her too. She will find her way.
The first order of the day, once we get to the NSRC, was to go over to Timmy’s and get a coffee. Your new addiction. I slip to you the Boston jacket that I found last night. You are excited about giving it to Martha. “This is beautiful. I will wear it all the time. It will help me get off the couch and get out running.” It’s less then four months to the Cabot Trail relay.
Martha and Quinn have a spirited game of crib while you and I talk. You are trying to find ways to define yourself. “I don’t want to be just a slave to the family – cooking and cleaning. I want to be an at home husband and father. The sneaking around was a life. It was amazingly stupid.” This stroke has helped you trade up on your disabilities. Before your stroke you were emotionally disabled. Now you are stripped down emotionally – this is your emotional rock bottom. From here you will heal.
Your healing is gradual. Your physical healing and the emotional healing. Just as you reclaimed your ability to regulate your body temperature and blood pressure in the early days then you claimed control over your bladder and bowels. Now you are gaining back your emotional layers that were stripped away. The best part is you get to choose what emotions you want to wear. What roles you want to play. Father, husband, son, brother and friend.
Tara sees herself as the ‘defender of the weak’ and you see yourself as ‘the weak’. You have a lot to learn from your daughter.
This weekend I have noticed that you are getting much better to scan about and actively search for things. You are eating all the food on your plate without me prompting you to look to your left or turning your plate. This is progress.
Martha takes the children to a store nearby called the ‘Freak Lunch Box’. We had been to it once before when you were in the other Halifax hospital. Friends of Tara and Quinn educated us on its existence. It is a small shop crammed with all the candies that we would remember from our childhood. The days when penny-candy … was penny candy. A bag of candy or a chocolate bar would have cost 25 cents. Those days are gone, but the candy is still available. It just costs a lot more than a penny now. You make a request for ‘Bottlecaps’. I never heard of them but Martha knew what you were talking about. They set off on a mission to find you some Bottlecaps.
The children come back loaded up with huge all-day lollipops and bags of candy. Their eyes were big with the description of the candies there. While they were gone we have a long discussion about your emotional discoveries.
You ask me when you meet people “What do I say? Hi I’m Chris Cashen and I had a catastrophic stroke.”? You can’t let your condition define you. You have to actively choose to define your condition. I suggest you think like this: “Hi, I’m Chris Cashen. I survived a stroke and I’m not going to let it own me.” That is more positive way of thinking about it.
You have to dictate how you will let the effects of the stroke affect your outlook in life.
You have really rallied by Martha’s visit. You are happy that Martha and I are friends. We should be friends - we h–ve a lot in common. This weekend has given us something else in common. For both of us, our hope has been given a new life.
Martha works at CHEO. A children’s hospital in Ottawa. She knows the system. She knows the work environment. She knows a lot. I gleam from her as much information as I can to continue to be your advocate.
We talk about your left side neglect. I have the impression from the OT that this is a big problem. It has improved lately but I am frustrated that the setup in your room isn’t oriented to the left to force you to interact with people on your left. The room mate across the room from you has been discharged and his bed had all things oriented to the left. It would make good sense to see if we can get you moved to that bed.
We discuss your leg lift today and your obvious desire to make a difference in your recovery. Since you only have one hour of physio and one hour of occupational therapy a day, perhaps there are things that you could work on your own. Martha suggested a chart that you fill out to keep track of what you do and how often. She recognizes that any exercises should not be done in excess. You muscles have not done much in five months.
Your need to take a ‘training approach’. A chart would serve three purposes. It would help you fill the hours when you are not at appointments. It would help you be accountable to yourself and keep you on track as well as help you visually orient you to the left margin if it were in a chart format. Finally it would help you build your motor skills. This seems like a great idea to me. I will take it to your OT and PT people.
Martha is a masters student as well as being a nurse. She understands the system of mentors, internships and externships within the medical community. She wondered if there might be some local PT or OT students who would take you on as a case study to further their career. This could be a win-win situation for both. Somehow I will figure out a plan to see if this is possible.
This morning, Tara is the first one up, She crawls into bed with me. She had a bad dream. We talk about her dream and what it meant. She comes to the conclusion that she is feeling social pressures at school. She feels a little outcast because she stands up for another child in her class. In grade four, social interactions start to get complicated.
I feel the pressure to help find a way through this rough spot. I know I can’t ‘fix’ her problems but I also know that as a mother, I want to protect her. She has so much to deal with right now, the last thing she needs is stress from school. I wished you were there to offer some words of advice and you are good seeing things from a different prospective. It hard trying to be both parents to a child at the same time.
Thankfully, just as I was stumbling through the situation with her, Martha got up. The three of us brainstorm to help her see her way. For the most part, I think she is a confident girl who believes in herself. I realized, at the end of our talk, that she just needed to know that we believed in her too. She will find her way.
The first order of the day, once we get to the NSRC, was to go over to Timmy’s and get a coffee. Your new addiction. I slip to you the Boston jacket that I found last night. You are excited about giving it to Martha. “This is beautiful. I will wear it all the time. It will help me get off the couch and get out running.” It’s less then four months to the Cabot Trail relay.
Martha and Quinn have a spirited game of crib while you and I talk. You are trying to find ways to define yourself. “I don’t want to be just a slave to the family – cooking and cleaning. I want to be an at home husband and father. The sneaking around was a life. It was amazingly stupid.” This stroke has helped you trade up on your disabilities. Before your stroke you were emotionally disabled. Now you are stripped down emotionally – this is your emotional rock bottom. From here you will heal.
Your healing is gradual. Your physical healing and the emotional healing. Just as you reclaimed your ability to regulate your body temperature and blood pressure in the early days then you claimed control over your bladder and bowels. Now you are gaining back your emotional layers that were stripped away. The best part is you get to choose what emotions you want to wear. What roles you want to play. Father, husband, son, brother and friend.
Tara sees herself as the ‘defender of the weak’ and you see yourself as ‘the weak’. You have a lot to learn from your daughter.
This weekend I have noticed that you are getting much better to scan about and actively search for things. You are eating all the food on your plate without me prompting you to look to your left or turning your plate. This is progress.
Martha takes the children to a store nearby called the ‘Freak Lunch Box’. We had been to it once before when you were in the other Halifax hospital. Friends of Tara and Quinn educated us on its existence. It is a small shop crammed with all the candies that we would remember from our childhood. The days when penny-candy … was penny candy. A bag of candy or a chocolate bar would have cost 25 cents. Those days are gone, but the candy is still available. It just costs a lot more than a penny now. You make a request for ‘Bottlecaps’. I never heard of them but Martha knew what you were talking about. They set off on a mission to find you some Bottlecaps.
The children come back loaded up with huge all-day lollipops and bags of candy. Their eyes were big with the description of the candies there. While they were gone we have a long discussion about your emotional discoveries.
You ask me when you meet people “What do I say? Hi I’m Chris Cashen and I had a catastrophic stroke.”? You can’t let your condition define you. You have to actively choose to define your condition. I suggest you think like this: “Hi, I’m Chris Cashen. I survived a stroke and I’m not going to let it own me.” That is more positive way of thinking about it.
You have to dictate how you will let the effects of the stroke affect your outlook in life.
You have really rallied by Martha’s visit. You are happy that Martha and I are friends. We should be friends - we h–ve a lot in common. This weekend has given us something else in common. For both of us, our hope has been given a new life.
Saturday January 30 - A Dream Comes True
The last week, I have noticed that when I talk to people about your health, I sense that they feel awkward. They have no words and don’t know what to say. These are the same people who have given me tons of support and energy in the past. It’s not just one person, there have been several. Is this just my perception or is it real? I think it’s real. I wondered, to myself, about this observation as I drove with the children to Halifax. Then it hit me.
It’s me. It’s my attitude. I have lost some hope and without hope by my side, I am a different person. I make people feel awkward because I have less hope and strength. I thought that hope and strength came from others. I was wrong. Hope and strength come from within. It doesn’t have to be much to be received positively. When others feel the hope and strength that I project then they reflect it back to me. This is where the magic comes in. When people reflect it back to me, it is magnified. The net effect results in a lot of hope, faith and strength. This is the magic of relating to people.
My epiphany is that I don’t need to exhibit a lot of hope and strength in order to receive it. I just need to project a little. In many ways it’s like a very successful chain letter. You put a little out and receive a lot back. I call it positive energy. Others might call it prayer.
As I drive to Halifax, my mood lightens at the thought of this. Martha, from Ottawa, will be there. She has a very big ‘energy magnifier’. If I can muster enough energy to exude some hope. I know that I’ll get a lot of positive energy back.
On the ride to Halifax, Tara reads aloud about Greek gods. Quinn listens intently to the Greek Mythology lecture. Then he lectured me. I was supposed to call him last night when I got home after dropping them off at Juanita’s for the night. I forgot. He asked if I’m OK. I said “Yes, why do you ask?” “Well, I figured that you must have been hurt because you didn’t call. I was worried all night.” He said holding nothing back. It sounded like a lecture I should be giving him in about 10 years. He made his point, loud and clear.
Tara and Quinn play a round of crib in the back seat. I listen to their game. It amazes me how fast Quinn has mastering the game. I played a game with him this week before bed. This is his third game, second on his own. Quinn is a quick study. They both are going to be crib crazed kids.
When we get to the hospital, Martha is there. You are very happy to see her. She arrived last night and visited until they kicked her out and then came for breakfast.
The two of you talk and Martha gives you many words of encouragement.
Martha is also a big hit with the children. They play with her and paint finger nails and do math problems on your white board. Her positive energy spreads through us all.
You pull me aside for a moment and ask me to dig out a special gift that you have in mind for Martha. Your Boston Marathon jacket.
You had bought two jackets in Boston last year. It seemed excessive to me but you defended your purchase with the “It’s a chance of a lifetime” argument. Who was I to disagree. “Besides” You said “This way I can hand down a jacket to both Tara and Quinn when they are older.” I really couldn’t argue with this logic. So you bought two identical jackets. You wore one the day after Boston while we did some sightseeing. The other jacket hung in your closet, in a plastic bag and with the labels still on it, since we came home. I had forgotten about it, but you hadn’t.
‘I want you to get that jacket and bring it here tomorrow. I want to give it to my best friend.” Martha’s birthday was almost a month ago and you wanted to acknowledge it.
Today you express more anger at yourself and at the situation. You can’t accept the reality now, let alone this reality for life. You express a deep desire to run again. “If I get to run… then everything will fall into place.” It seems simple in your mind. To run means to be free. Free for your stroke and all the limitations that it has imposed on you. You see running as being your salvation. It saved you before with the gambling and you want it to save you again. You are angry, in denial and determined.
This weekend you are going to try to use the bathroom more, rather then the urinal and bedpan. You had gotten used to using this equipment while at the Colchester Hospital. It was a crutch that ‘enabled your disability’. That’s an odd combination of words but it seems to suit the situation and makes sense to me.
Now you are breaking free of these chains. Since we had worked on transfers with the OT team last week, I felt quite confident that we could get you on the toilet easily. I got you on the toilet and left to give you a little privacy. When you called for me, I stuck my head in the door and to my amazement, there you were standing by the toilet!
“How long have you been standing there?” I demand feeling half-proud and half-scared that you’d fall and get hurt. “Oh, just a few minutes.” You said smiling. As I reached out the steady you. You let go of the grab bar and stood there holding onto me. A hug that I had longed for a long time. Your body felt good in my arms. It felt better than the last hug I got from you, the day before your stroke. Our anniversary hug. This was like the dream that I had when you were in the ICU. A dream comes true.
Over the past few weeks, you have befriended one of the cleaning staff. She is a smoker and you gently try to convince her to take charge of her self and get rid of the cigarettes. You have met your challenge. She helps you understand that all you can do is tell your story. You have to let other people decide what they will do with the information. Yesterday, she gave you a present. A little present but it had a big meaning.
It is a small translucent flat rock with one word in it and a magnet glued to the back. The word was “Believe”. I wonder if her own personal struggle with cigarettes has given her insight into your world. She understands what it takes to get through this tough journey of addiction. She knows that you need to believe before anything can happen. You need to believe in yourself. She has offered you supportive words over the last few days but today, we are both touched by her thoughtfulness.
The afternoon is spent polishing nails. It started with Martha and Tara doing each other’s nails. Then you joined in the fun after I cut your hair. It’s a spa day for you. Bright blue nail polish donned your hands. When Quinn saw this he wanted to paint his nails too. Fingers and toes!
Tonight I am oncall and I must be home before 8pm. Leaving is always hard. As we get ready to go and get you settled in bed, You say to us “Look at this!” You were laying in bed on your back. With your feet stretched straight. Slowly you draw your left leg towards your right leg and then lift it up off the bed and hold it there in the air for about 5 seconds! We are all amazed. Not sure whether to believe if this was you will that performed the act or a spasm, you attempted again. You did this about 5 times. Each time, you did it the same way. Martha, who is not only a nurse but also a graduate of kinesiology, recognized this action right away as a positive sign. “Your quads are tight!” She said. We felt your leg as you repeated it. Your quads were tight.
Today, you settled on anger and denial as your flavour of the day. They have been proven to been very good to you. We continue to cheer you along.
It’s me. It’s my attitude. I have lost some hope and without hope by my side, I am a different person. I make people feel awkward because I have less hope and strength. I thought that hope and strength came from others. I was wrong. Hope and strength come from within. It doesn’t have to be much to be received positively. When others feel the hope and strength that I project then they reflect it back to me. This is where the magic comes in. When people reflect it back to me, it is magnified. The net effect results in a lot of hope, faith and strength. This is the magic of relating to people.
My epiphany is that I don’t need to exhibit a lot of hope and strength in order to receive it. I just need to project a little. In many ways it’s like a very successful chain letter. You put a little out and receive a lot back. I call it positive energy. Others might call it prayer.
As I drive to Halifax, my mood lightens at the thought of this. Martha, from Ottawa, will be there. She has a very big ‘energy magnifier’. If I can muster enough energy to exude some hope. I know that I’ll get a lot of positive energy back.
On the ride to Halifax, Tara reads aloud about Greek gods. Quinn listens intently to the Greek Mythology lecture. Then he lectured me. I was supposed to call him last night when I got home after dropping them off at Juanita’s for the night. I forgot. He asked if I’m OK. I said “Yes, why do you ask?” “Well, I figured that you must have been hurt because you didn’t call. I was worried all night.” He said holding nothing back. It sounded like a lecture I should be giving him in about 10 years. He made his point, loud and clear.
Tara and Quinn play a round of crib in the back seat. I listen to their game. It amazes me how fast Quinn has mastering the game. I played a game with him this week before bed. This is his third game, second on his own. Quinn is a quick study. They both are going to be crib crazed kids.
When we get to the hospital, Martha is there. You are very happy to see her. She arrived last night and visited until they kicked her out and then came for breakfast.
The two of you talk and Martha gives you many words of encouragement.
Martha is also a big hit with the children. They play with her and paint finger nails and do math problems on your white board. Her positive energy spreads through us all.
You pull me aside for a moment and ask me to dig out a special gift that you have in mind for Martha. Your Boston Marathon jacket.
You had bought two jackets in Boston last year. It seemed excessive to me but you defended your purchase with the “It’s a chance of a lifetime” argument. Who was I to disagree. “Besides” You said “This way I can hand down a jacket to both Tara and Quinn when they are older.” I really couldn’t argue with this logic. So you bought two identical jackets. You wore one the day after Boston while we did some sightseeing. The other jacket hung in your closet, in a plastic bag and with the labels still on it, since we came home. I had forgotten about it, but you hadn’t.
‘I want you to get that jacket and bring it here tomorrow. I want to give it to my best friend.” Martha’s birthday was almost a month ago and you wanted to acknowledge it.
Today you express more anger at yourself and at the situation. You can’t accept the reality now, let alone this reality for life. You express a deep desire to run again. “If I get to run… then everything will fall into place.” It seems simple in your mind. To run means to be free. Free for your stroke and all the limitations that it has imposed on you. You see running as being your salvation. It saved you before with the gambling and you want it to save you again. You are angry, in denial and determined.
This weekend you are going to try to use the bathroom more, rather then the urinal and bedpan. You had gotten used to using this equipment while at the Colchester Hospital. It was a crutch that ‘enabled your disability’. That’s an odd combination of words but it seems to suit the situation and makes sense to me.
Now you are breaking free of these chains. Since we had worked on transfers with the OT team last week, I felt quite confident that we could get you on the toilet easily. I got you on the toilet and left to give you a little privacy. When you called for me, I stuck my head in the door and to my amazement, there you were standing by the toilet!
“How long have you been standing there?” I demand feeling half-proud and half-scared that you’d fall and get hurt. “Oh, just a few minutes.” You said smiling. As I reached out the steady you. You let go of the grab bar and stood there holding onto me. A hug that I had longed for a long time. Your body felt good in my arms. It felt better than the last hug I got from you, the day before your stroke. Our anniversary hug. This was like the dream that I had when you were in the ICU. A dream comes true.
Over the past few weeks, you have befriended one of the cleaning staff. She is a smoker and you gently try to convince her to take charge of her self and get rid of the cigarettes. You have met your challenge. She helps you understand that all you can do is tell your story. You have to let other people decide what they will do with the information. Yesterday, she gave you a present. A little present but it had a big meaning.
It is a small translucent flat rock with one word in it and a magnet glued to the back. The word was “Believe”. I wonder if her own personal struggle with cigarettes has given her insight into your world. She understands what it takes to get through this tough journey of addiction. She knows that you need to believe before anything can happen. You need to believe in yourself. She has offered you supportive words over the last few days but today, we are both touched by her thoughtfulness.
The afternoon is spent polishing nails. It started with Martha and Tara doing each other’s nails. Then you joined in the fun after I cut your hair. It’s a spa day for you. Bright blue nail polish donned your hands. When Quinn saw this he wanted to paint his nails too. Fingers and toes!
Tonight I am oncall and I must be home before 8pm. Leaving is always hard. As we get ready to go and get you settled in bed, You say to us “Look at this!” You were laying in bed on your back. With your feet stretched straight. Slowly you draw your left leg towards your right leg and then lift it up off the bed and hold it there in the air for about 5 seconds! We are all amazed. Not sure whether to believe if this was you will that performed the act or a spasm, you attempted again. You did this about 5 times. Each time, you did it the same way. Martha, who is not only a nurse but also a graduate of kinesiology, recognized this action right away as a positive sign. “Your quads are tight!” She said. We felt your leg as you repeated it. Your quads were tight.
Today, you settled on anger and denial as your flavour of the day. They have been proven to been very good to you. We continue to cheer you along.
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