Tommy started swimming lessons again this week. Only one more session after this and we may consider the swim team. He absolutely loves it! LOVES IT!
Monday, I happened to see my PT, Libby. I think the last time she saw me I was still in my wheelchair so I was all proud. It was a bit like seeing your teacher outside of school. I know my therapists have real lives but they only exist for me in the therapy gym. It was so good to see her and see that we have more than a patient/therapist relationship and that I am not defined by my stroke. We are both just moms with kids in lessons.
On Wednesday, as we were leaving, I had Tommy push the automatic door opener for the handicapped door and slowly started to walk through them. Three very small boys ran past me. Their dad, afraid they might run into the parking lot, came up behind me, said excuse me, and tried to push past me. It was obvious that he wanted me to move out of his way. I can't move out of his way. I can't move quickly. Moving quickly=falling.
Rest assured that if the boys had been remotely close to the parking lot I would have taken a dive if I needed to. Their safety would come first. But they were nowhere near there. I could tell the father was understandably annoyed with me.
But I was using the handicapped door. I am visibly handicapped. I can't help but feel that he wouldn't have been annoyed with me if I were in my wheelchair.
My PT, Tim once suggested that I use my cane even if I don't really need it. It is a visual sign to others that I need extra space and time. This is probably a good idea but I have enough to carry and worry about. I have 3 kids. It is a dilemma for me and I will have to give some thought to it.
On a lighter note, I had a little tummy bug the other night and Jain was convinced it was because I had eaten sugar earlier that day. If that were the case I would be sick nearly every day. Tommy disagreed and told her that sometimes you get a liiitle too healthy and you just need to get some of that healthy out. That sure made me feel better!
Friday, April 12, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
Code Blue
On the day of my stroke I went to the ER, then to a room, and eventually to the ICU. While I was there, Wendy was in the room and Robert was sitting by my side holding my hand. Josh was there by the room ready to give me a Priesthood Blessing. They came in and told Robert that I was going to be flown to the University of Utah. Robert recalls that most people then left the room and maybe one nurse remained.
Moments later I started signing something. Wendy (fluent in ASL) said that I was signing "hurry". Within seconds I started seizing and a Code Blue was called. Robert says about 15 people ran in the room and told Wendy, "Ma'am, you have to leave." She just started crying and walked out. Josh was told to leave as well and he said a lot of people came running past him. Robert does not think they told him to leave but it wouldn't have mattered, he was going to stay put. He honestly thought I was dying. He remembers a lot of action and a blue bag helping me breathe.
My family was just outside the doors to the ICU and heard the Code called over the speaker and could see everybody running to my room. My mom immediately sat on the floor and Matt was right with her. Josh said he began yelling at the doctors. Apparently the chaos was not only in my room.
After about 5 or so minutes things began to calm down and Robert understood that they had stabilized me. They then began to prepare me for the flight to the U. Robert remembers that I was wrapped in something, like I was strapped down, and there was padding or air bags around me so I wouldn't bump around in the air.
They allowed him just a moment to hold my hand and tell me goodbye before they took me away. He said most of my family had already left for the U but Josh was there and tried to convince Robert to ride with him. Josh even took Roberts keys at one point. But Robert was persistent about wanting to be alone and eventually won the argument. I agree with Josh on this one but I had no say.
By the time Robert reached the U, only my mom was with me as my family needed to wait in another area. They were preparing me for an Angiogram and waiting for Dr. Skalabrin to arrive.
For that moment, all was like the calm of the eye of a tornado.
Moments later I started signing something. Wendy (fluent in ASL) said that I was signing "hurry". Within seconds I started seizing and a Code Blue was called. Robert says about 15 people ran in the room and told Wendy, "Ma'am, you have to leave." She just started crying and walked out. Josh was told to leave as well and he said a lot of people came running past him. Robert does not think they told him to leave but it wouldn't have mattered, he was going to stay put. He honestly thought I was dying. He remembers a lot of action and a blue bag helping me breathe.
My family was just outside the doors to the ICU and heard the Code called over the speaker and could see everybody running to my room. My mom immediately sat on the floor and Matt was right with her. Josh said he began yelling at the doctors. Apparently the chaos was not only in my room.
After about 5 or so minutes things began to calm down and Robert understood that they had stabilized me. They then began to prepare me for the flight to the U. Robert remembers that I was wrapped in something, like I was strapped down, and there was padding or air bags around me so I wouldn't bump around in the air.
They allowed him just a moment to hold my hand and tell me goodbye before they took me away. He said most of my family had already left for the U but Josh was there and tried to convince Robert to ride with him. Josh even took Roberts keys at one point. But Robert was persistent about wanting to be alone and eventually won the argument. I agree with Josh on this one but I had no say.
By the time Robert reached the U, only my mom was with me as my family needed to wait in another area. They were preparing me for an Angiogram and waiting for Dr. Skalabrin to arrive.
For that moment, all was like the calm of the eye of a tornado.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
What we look for...
Last night in Family Home Evening, we were talking about the resurrection of Christ. We talked about that because of this gift, we will be able to have our bodies restored to us and they will be perfected.
The kids lit up and both Aleq and Ana Jain exclaimed, "Mama won't be strokey anymore!"
I love that Christ gave us this gift. I am very grateful. I love knowing that this body with all its limitations, is only temporary. One day I will walk without fear, talk with my real voice, kiss my husband without concentrating on making my lips pucker and although they will be past it, I will be able to help my kids learn to ride their bikes.
That will happen one day, but I have so much to be thankful for today. In the past ten minutes my boys cleaned their bathroom, my daughter came in and gave me a kiss while I was typing, and Robert brushed out my wet hair while I sat at the computer (he has never done that before! Maybe he was terrified of my looks).
I love the saying that what we look for, we find. Looking for and finding things to be thankful for does not come naturally to me. I have to make a conscious decision every single day that I won't give in to the grief. Some days it's really hard. A lot of days it's really hard. But so many people have asked me what good does negative thinking do? None. So every day as I slowly get out of bed, I make the decision to look for happiness. Every day I tell myself that I tomorrow is the day for staying in bed and wallowing, not today. Then tomorrow comes and I tell myself that again.
The kids lit up and both Aleq and Ana Jain exclaimed, "Mama won't be strokey anymore!"
I love that Christ gave us this gift. I am very grateful. I love knowing that this body with all its limitations, is only temporary. One day I will walk without fear, talk with my real voice, kiss my husband without concentrating on making my lips pucker and although they will be past it, I will be able to help my kids learn to ride their bikes.
That will happen one day, but I have so much to be thankful for today. In the past ten minutes my boys cleaned their bathroom, my daughter came in and gave me a kiss while I was typing, and Robert brushed out my wet hair while I sat at the computer (he has never done that before! Maybe he was terrified of my looks).
I love the saying that what we look for, we find. Looking for and finding things to be thankful for does not come naturally to me. I have to make a conscious decision every single day that I won't give in to the grief. Some days it's really hard. A lot of days it's really hard. But so many people have asked me what good does negative thinking do? None. So every day as I slowly get out of bed, I make the decision to look for happiness. Every day I tell myself that I tomorrow is the day for staying in bed and wallowing, not today. Then tomorrow comes and I tell myself that again.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
As this is my journal and all, I want to remember the following...
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It wasn't very big...       |
She Was Scared
After I got out of the hospital, my mom and I drove there (over an hour) every few days for my out-patient therapy. Although I sure didn't see it, my therapists thought I had made significant progress. So one day when I went down, they asked me to talk with another young mom who had suffered a stroke. Apparently strokes are not that uncommon in new moms.
Now at the time I was still in a wheelchair, had my feeding tube, my face was totally disfigured (still is but not like it was then) and still carried cloths around because I could not even swallow my own saliva. This girl was walking to and from therapy, eating and drinking the yummy hospital food (try not being able to eat and even that...mmm), and she looked totally normal. And they wanted me to encourage her.
But after watching her for a few minutes I realized that she could not speak and was using made up signs to get her point across, her walk was very unsteady and someone had to be with her, and she seemed scared. I knew that feeling well. I still do. She was just starting a looong and difficult journey, one that I was only slightly further along.
What Could I possibly say that would help? I wasn't even doing well physically or emotionally myself, but my therapists seemed to see that she was in a very dark place and that I had started, already, to come out of that dark place.
So they introduced us and I offered what encouragement I could. I told her that it really does get better and to keep fighting. I knew she was scared, I was too, but if I could make progress she could too. Short and sweet.
She just started to cry. I could tell by her expression that what I had said was what she needed to hear right then.
Her family and the therapists thanked me but it wasn't really my thanks to receive. The Lord knew what she needed to hear.
Now at the time I was still in a wheelchair, had my feeding tube, my face was totally disfigured (still is but not like it was then) and still carried cloths around because I could not even swallow my own saliva. This girl was walking to and from therapy, eating and drinking the yummy hospital food (try not being able to eat and even that...mmm), and she looked totally normal. And they wanted me to encourage her.
But after watching her for a few minutes I realized that she could not speak and was using made up signs to get her point across, her walk was very unsteady and someone had to be with her, and she seemed scared. I knew that feeling well. I still do. She was just starting a looong and difficult journey, one that I was only slightly further along.
What Could I possibly say that would help? I wasn't even doing well physically or emotionally myself, but my therapists seemed to see that she was in a very dark place and that I had started, already, to come out of that dark place.
So they introduced us and I offered what encouragement I could. I told her that it really does get better and to keep fighting. I knew she was scared, I was too, but if I could make progress she could too. Short and sweet.
She just started to cry. I could tell by her expression that what I had said was what she needed to hear right then.
Her family and the therapists thanked me but it wasn't really my thanks to receive. The Lord knew what she needed to hear.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Salad Days
The first days after my stroke were very scary for all involved. We didn't know from one minute to the next if I would live. After the initial days, I was still so fragile and as the days turned into weeks, my medical status went up and down. Even when I got discarged from the hospital I was far from stable all the time. I required numerous trips to my Doc, the ER, etc. Needless to say, I needed every prayer that people could offer.
Every prayer is important. Listening to my children talk to their Heavenly Father is proof of that. I feel the Spirit so strongly when they open up their little hearts to The Lord.
Yes, every prayer is important, heard and answered. But I want to remember one certain prayer.
Our Bishop's father was the personal secretary to President Gordon B. Hinckley and, very kindly, asked him to pray for me. When President Hinckley met with the 12 Apostles, they offered a prayer in my behalf. My Bishop's father didn't need to do that and certainly President Hinckley had things that were very important to many people. But the time was taken, I was thought of, and I know I was blessed by this prayer.
Weeks later, my mother-in-law was in her ward in St. George and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland was visiting. Geraldine recounted this story to him and thanked him. He told her that he was sorry that we needed them to pray for us. He said that when President Hinckley prayed, it was very powerful and that he knew everything would be all right.
And everything is all right. Maybe not the way I had panned but we have been so blessed!
Our friend used to remark that the early days of marriage, before the responsibility of parenthood and real life, were the salad days. Happy days. Robert and I think that these are our salad days. We are genuinely happy. Most days.
Our life isn't perfect, but it is wonderful.
Every prayer is important. Listening to my children talk to their Heavenly Father is proof of that. I feel the Spirit so strongly when they open up their little hearts to The Lord.
Yes, every prayer is important, heard and answered. But I want to remember one certain prayer.
Our Bishop's father was the personal secretary to President Gordon B. Hinckley and, very kindly, asked him to pray for me. When President Hinckley met with the 12 Apostles, they offered a prayer in my behalf. My Bishop's father didn't need to do that and certainly President Hinckley had things that were very important to many people. But the time was taken, I was thought of, and I know I was blessed by this prayer.
Weeks later, my mother-in-law was in her ward in St. George and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland was visiting. Geraldine recounted this story to him and thanked him. He told her that he was sorry that we needed them to pray for us. He said that when President Hinckley prayed, it was very powerful and that he knew everything would be all right.
And everything is all right. Maybe not the way I had panned but we have been so blessed!
Our friend used to remark that the early days of marriage, before the responsibility of parenthood and real life, were the salad days. Happy days. Robert and I think that these are our salad days. We are genuinely happy. Most days.
Our life isn't perfect, but it is wonderful.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Remember
This morning I dropped Jain off at school. She gave me a kiss, got out on her own, and I watched her walk in. As she walked in, she passed two moms who had just walked their kids all the way in. The moms were laughing and talking, not concentrating on whether their weight needs to be in their toes or heels to get down the driveway, crossed the road without fear of falling, and did it all in just a few seconds.
A profound sadness/anger/jealousy hit me. I had to wait a moment before I could even drive away because of the tears blurring my vision. Pardon my language, but this really sucks!
Then, just a few minutes ago my mom and uncle came by. I have not seen Mike in a few years and last he saw I was in a bed shortly after my stroke. He was amazed at my progress and just hugged me and cried a little.
I have to remember that I have made miraculous progress. True, I am very limited with my body but that is only temporary. The things my family and I have been forced to learn will stay with me for eternity.
I have to remember that. I have to remember that. I have to remember that.
A profound sadness/anger/jealousy hit me. I had to wait a moment before I could even drive away because of the tears blurring my vision. Pardon my language, but this really sucks!
Then, just a few minutes ago my mom and uncle came by. I have not seen Mike in a few years and last he saw I was in a bed shortly after my stroke. He was amazed at my progress and just hugged me and cried a little.
I have to remember that I have made miraculous progress. True, I am very limited with my body but that is only temporary. The things my family and I have been forced to learn will stay with me for eternity.
I have to remember that. I have to remember that. I have to remember that.
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