It was amazing to watch the therapist work with Dad today. It was a day of ups and downs. I imagine most days will be this way. We are on a journey and learning much about strokes, therapy, the brain and ourselves.
My idea of normal has changed. I twitch of a toe is a tremendous accomplishment. Hope is something we chase down the halls with each doctor, nurse and therapist. I watch other patients. Some walk and some don't. Some smile and some don't. I watch and learn. I watch and wonder where they began, who they are, and how long they have been here.
We had a good day. With a tremendous amount of assistance, I watched Dad sit up today. He stood today. Looked to the left, a new left. He did everything asked from him. He learned how to begin to manage his new half a body. After he stood he was asked to take a step with his right foot. It drug forward. He was asked to step with his left and his leg moved ever so slightly. His brain tried to initiate the step. He did far more than wiggle his toes. It was good.
We had a bad day. Dad has very little endurance. Therapy is grueling and exhausting. Dad is thin, as he always has been, but his resistance is very low. He has eaten very, very little since being admitted a week ago. A scan revealed this morning that some of Dad's food and liquids is going straight into his lungs. This is not good. This puts him at risk for pneumonia. We want to avoid this at all costs and late in the day, a feeding tube was put in place via Dad's nose. The thick, tan liquid will help my dad get better, but it is a bit of an emotional set back.
We had a good day. Dad was able to sleep for two hours straight. This is a good thing.
My mom is holding up. She is eating and taking good care of Dad. She is amazing. I tell her that, but I am not sure she believes me.