April 16, 2006

  • Michael here in Stephenville.  Today was an emotional
    day.  Dena and her group had taken the RV to Lake Whitney and had
    asked me to come out there and spend the weekend with them.  I and
    the girls really wanted to go to Holder to spend Easter with Jerome and
    Ruth.  Joey's family and several others here in Stephenville
    invited me for Easter dinner.  I had so much that I needed to do,
    though, and I really didn't feel like socializing, so I stayed home,
    made me a batch of cole slaw so my cabbage wouldn't ruin, and that was
    my dinner. 

    This afternoon, Tom Post called, and we had a wonderful, happy, sad,
    laughing, crying visit.  He is such an incredible man, so much
    stronger than I am.  I hurt for him so much, but I was pleased to
    learn that Ann's passing was as gentle as it was.  They were
    married 31 years.

    Yesterday morning, I had a bizarre experience.  I woke up
    to find Lorena already up and gone.  I really needed to give her a
    hug and to tell her something, so I jumped out of bed and dressed
    quickly to go looking for her.  She wasn't in the bathroom ... or
    the kitchen ... so I headed outside to the patio where she often
    had her coffee watching the birds feeding and bathing.  Just
    as I realized she wasn't there, I remembered where she is, and it was
    as if someone had punched me in the stomach...  The knowledge of
    her condition and our situation was bad enough, but part of me flashed
    back to my sleep deprivation days when I seriously wondered about my
    sanity sometimes.

    At church this morning, everyone was asking about Lorena again, but
    some of their questions alarmed me a bit.  Lorena is still, for
    all intents and purposes, a quadriplegic who cannot stand, talk, feed
    herself, scratch an itch, or do anything for herself but breathe, spell
    [using a spelling board and "uh huhs"], and swallow.  I take
    that back.  She can indicate to the her nurses now when she needs
    to use the restroom so they can set her up on the potty chair -- and
    that is a HUGE improvement physically, psychologically, and
    emotionally.  Oh, yes; she can laugh, and that is perhaps the most
    important thing of all.  She can laugh.  Thank God, she can
    -- and does -- laugh...

Comments (2)

  • Laughter.... at camp last weekend we had "art therapy" for parents. We each had a terra cota flower pot, a pile of magazines, some stickers, and markers. We were asked to decoupage our flower pots with things reminding us of the journey with our kids.

    I found a sticker that had the definition of giggle on it. Kylie could giggle long before she could talk- her laughter is what got me through each day. In fact, she received the "Silliest Giggle" award at her discharge party....

    Music to my ears.

    Have a great week!

    K

  • The old adage that "laughter is the best medicine" is certainly appropriate -- for EVERYONE involved:  patient, family, caregivers, everyone...

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