I spent this morning running around the GAP looking for men's sweatpants. In my memory, the GAP had stacks of sweatpants in a rainbow of colors. That was probably in the 1980s. I was told that James needed to wear comfortable clothing to begin his rehabilitation therapy and after finding nothing in his closet that resembled track pants, I thought, well, I will hit one store and get everything I need--I even checked online first. However, when I entered what is now referred to as the brick and mortar shop, there was little to choose from and none of the online clothing items were in the store. Fine. I bought several pairs of light cotton pants with an elastic waistband--James will probably look quite silly in them but at least they appeared somewhat comfortable and easy to wear. I stopped by a sporting goods shoe shop right next door, before hopping back onto the subway, because I saw a pair of track pants in the window but the price was $89 a pair! James and I rarely shop for clothes and I find the yoga-tights-as-pants fashion slightly disturbing. I was staring at men wearing jogging pants on the subway and wondering, where did they buy those things?
James's first day in rehabilitation was hard work. I missed the first two sessions of occupational and speech therapy due to the shopping but I did catch his physical therapy in the gym. His therapist is a petite yet powerfully strong young woman named Nehal. I told James's brothers that there must be an amazing cosmic casting director that is choosing smart, beautiful, dark-haired woman to guide James through his recovery--first the surgeon for his two operations and now, this focused, gentle and confident PT. Nehal had a partner with her and they both managed to assist James in standing up for the first time in a month. He looked shocked and slightly frightened but he stood tall. The PTs immediately took his blood pressure afterward and were happy with the results. They asked James if he was willing to do it again (he was dizzy and exhausted) but he gave them the thumbs up.
I met with James's psychologist to review his case history with her and provide a little background about his life. She asked questions concerning our support network of friends and family. She gave me her impressions of James's state of mind after having a short session with him this morning. She noticed that James is slightly ataxic with regard to his cognition which means that James is able to generate a spontaneous reaction on his own (such as mouthing the word sore to describe his neck pain) but is having a little trouble with responding to a direct question or command. It is as if there is a small disconnect in the space between the command and responding it to it. She says this is very common among patients with brain injuries.
I have noticed this with James for the past four days and feel content to have a name for it! I am grateful to speak with someone that understands the nuances of the mind but also the physiological phenomenon of the brain as well. I have my own fears regarding James's personality and if he will lose or change aspects of his nature that I love so very dearly due to the damage to his temporal lobe. It is too early to know at this point but I wanted the psychologist to understand that I have thought about this and I am prepared for whatever may be presented to us as James recovers.
James has this wide-eyed newborn stare to his eyes now--it's as if he is in a state of anticipation, not quite wonder, but a sort of hovering over the precipice before the plunge. He is taking a medication that allows him to be brighter by interacting with his dopamine levels. I had slight reservations concerning this drug when I discovered it was being administered at Bellevue a few days before we were discharged but I have noticed the difference in his alertness levels. There is a sort of otherness about his stare though and I wonder if it is a result of the ataxia, the medication, or a combination of the two. The brain is a mysterious organ.
I have not stared questioningly into James's eyes to quite this degree since we were teenagers. I used to sit on his lap in the living room of my childhood home, kissing and staring into his eyes, for hours. My father would shout from the other room where he was watching television, "Stop torturing that poor boy!" and James would yell back, "I do not mind Mr. MacAllister." I am not connecting with James, though, in that same way. His stare goes straight through me--I do not know what it is conveying and I am not even sure if there is anything there he is trying to communicate.
James friend and bandmate, Charles, showed up today, unannounced, around the same time that I arrived. He later confessed to me that he decided to go ahead and visit, despite my warnings, because he could not keep himself away. He arrived with a small bottle of water from the Pacific Ocean from his recent trip to California (he's also an expatriate). Charles simply stepped right in, next to the nurse preparing some meds, and sprayed this water on James's hand, then rubbed it in. The nurse stepped back and said, "What is that?" I said, "It's water from the Pacific Ocean--we are from California." It was a ridiculous answer but she seemed to accept it. Crazy Californians.
Charles and I caught up a bit once the medical staff had left the room and at one point, I was complaining about something or other and I saw James waving at me to stop. He had heard enough of my negative storytelling and was cutting me off! James is utilizing his hands as his main means of communication rather than his eyes, although, he does use his eyebrows to show sarcasm!
The rehab staff have suggested that I convey to James's friends that would like to visit that they should wait for a week or so. This transition from a month of total inactivity to rigorous rehabilitation therapy is exhausting. James will need quiet downtime to rest and recharge after his hours of work from 9:00 in the morning to around 3:00 in the afternoon. He will also need to strengthen his energy reserves after consecutive days of therapy before having the space to accept the stimulus of visitors too. When he does have visitors, they suggested that they see James in the early evenings after he has had the chance to rest.
I also wonder if James's memory is intact. The therapists have asked him if he knows who I am and Charles as well and it appeared that James does know us. The breadth of his capability to recognize loved ones in his life remains unknown.
The PTs were kind enough to suggest that once I have become acquainted with their routine and James has gained a comfort level with them, that I should return to my life while they spend time on their work. They have a pragmatic long view of James's recovery process and advised me that I will need to conserve my time away from my work for the period in which James will return home. He will need me more during that period than being a witness to his progress in rehabilitation. I do not have to worry about the care he is receiving at Mt. Sinai.
I was also made to realize by the PTs that I will have to find a new place to live. We love our apartment and it is the only home that Imogen has ever known. We do not want to leave but we cannot live in a two-floor walk-up with James. I am placing the call out to anyone that may have an inside line of a ground floor, two bedroom apartment in the Greenpoint area. I want to keep Imogen in the neighborhood, if possible. There are ways to adapt a plan for a short stoop of stairs but anything more would present too formidable of a challenge. We have time but it is something I need to focus on. It will be a daunting move because James has his entire studio at home as well as all the weird things he has accumulated over the years (pieces of wood, musical instruments and who knows what else is squirreled away in the hallway and in his studio).
Phew, this was a long one. I am very hopeful about the rehab process yet I am also feeling a bit wide-eyed myself, in the manner of staring into the clear, placidity of the abyss. James's eyes were so blue today, frighteningly so.
I ran into a friend at Imogen's soccer practice tonight. I wanted to let her know how much it meant to me to see her eyes well up with tears, loving James. It was very moving and meaningful to me.
Love out you Greenpoint, Brooklyn!
James's first day in rehabilitation was hard work. I missed the first two sessions of occupational and speech therapy due to the shopping but I did catch his physical therapy in the gym. His therapist is a petite yet powerfully strong young woman named Nehal. I told James's brothers that there must be an amazing cosmic casting director that is choosing smart, beautiful, dark-haired woman to guide James through his recovery--first the surgeon for his two operations and now, this focused, gentle and confident PT. Nehal had a partner with her and they both managed to assist James in standing up for the first time in a month. He looked shocked and slightly frightened but he stood tall. The PTs immediately took his blood pressure afterward and were happy with the results. They asked James if he was willing to do it again (he was dizzy and exhausted) but he gave them the thumbs up.
I met with James's psychologist to review his case history with her and provide a little background about his life. She asked questions concerning our support network of friends and family. She gave me her impressions of James's state of mind after having a short session with him this morning. She noticed that James is slightly ataxic with regard to his cognition which means that James is able to generate a spontaneous reaction on his own (such as mouthing the word sore to describe his neck pain) but is having a little trouble with responding to a direct question or command. It is as if there is a small disconnect in the space between the command and responding it to it. She says this is very common among patients with brain injuries.
I have noticed this with James for the past four days and feel content to have a name for it! I am grateful to speak with someone that understands the nuances of the mind but also the physiological phenomenon of the brain as well. I have my own fears regarding James's personality and if he will lose or change aspects of his nature that I love so very dearly due to the damage to his temporal lobe. It is too early to know at this point but I wanted the psychologist to understand that I have thought about this and I am prepared for whatever may be presented to us as James recovers.
James has this wide-eyed newborn stare to his eyes now--it's as if he is in a state of anticipation, not quite wonder, but a sort of hovering over the precipice before the plunge. He is taking a medication that allows him to be brighter by interacting with his dopamine levels. I had slight reservations concerning this drug when I discovered it was being administered at Bellevue a few days before we were discharged but I have noticed the difference in his alertness levels. There is a sort of otherness about his stare though and I wonder if it is a result of the ataxia, the medication, or a combination of the two. The brain is a mysterious organ.
I have not stared questioningly into James's eyes to quite this degree since we were teenagers. I used to sit on his lap in the living room of my childhood home, kissing and staring into his eyes, for hours. My father would shout from the other room where he was watching television, "Stop torturing that poor boy!" and James would yell back, "I do not mind Mr. MacAllister." I am not connecting with James, though, in that same way. His stare goes straight through me--I do not know what it is conveying and I am not even sure if there is anything there he is trying to communicate.
James friend and bandmate, Charles, showed up today, unannounced, around the same time that I arrived. He later confessed to me that he decided to go ahead and visit, despite my warnings, because he could not keep himself away. He arrived with a small bottle of water from the Pacific Ocean from his recent trip to California (he's also an expatriate). Charles simply stepped right in, next to the nurse preparing some meds, and sprayed this water on James's hand, then rubbed it in. The nurse stepped back and said, "What is that?" I said, "It's water from the Pacific Ocean--we are from California." It was a ridiculous answer but she seemed to accept it. Crazy Californians.
Charles and I caught up a bit once the medical staff had left the room and at one point, I was complaining about something or other and I saw James waving at me to stop. He had heard enough of my negative storytelling and was cutting me off! James is utilizing his hands as his main means of communication rather than his eyes, although, he does use his eyebrows to show sarcasm!
The rehab staff have suggested that I convey to James's friends that would like to visit that they should wait for a week or so. This transition from a month of total inactivity to rigorous rehabilitation therapy is exhausting. James will need quiet downtime to rest and recharge after his hours of work from 9:00 in the morning to around 3:00 in the afternoon. He will also need to strengthen his energy reserves after consecutive days of therapy before having the space to accept the stimulus of visitors too. When he does have visitors, they suggested that they see James in the early evenings after he has had the chance to rest.
I also wonder if James's memory is intact. The therapists have asked him if he knows who I am and Charles as well and it appeared that James does know us. The breadth of his capability to recognize loved ones in his life remains unknown.
The PTs were kind enough to suggest that once I have become acquainted with their routine and James has gained a comfort level with them, that I should return to my life while they spend time on their work. They have a pragmatic long view of James's recovery process and advised me that I will need to conserve my time away from my work for the period in which James will return home. He will need me more during that period than being a witness to his progress in rehabilitation. I do not have to worry about the care he is receiving at Mt. Sinai.
I was also made to realize by the PTs that I will have to find a new place to live. We love our apartment and it is the only home that Imogen has ever known. We do not want to leave but we cannot live in a two-floor walk-up with James. I am placing the call out to anyone that may have an inside line of a ground floor, two bedroom apartment in the Greenpoint area. I want to keep Imogen in the neighborhood, if possible. There are ways to adapt a plan for a short stoop of stairs but anything more would present too formidable of a challenge. We have time but it is something I need to focus on. It will be a daunting move because James has his entire studio at home as well as all the weird things he has accumulated over the years (pieces of wood, musical instruments and who knows what else is squirreled away in the hallway and in his studio).
Phew, this was a long one. I am very hopeful about the rehab process yet I am also feeling a bit wide-eyed myself, in the manner of staring into the clear, placidity of the abyss. James's eyes were so blue today, frighteningly so.
I ran into a friend at Imogen's soccer practice tonight. I wanted to let her know how much it meant to me to see her eyes well up with tears, loving James. It was very moving and meaningful to me.
Love out you Greenpoint, Brooklyn!
Jen, for inexpensive sweat pants you should look at Target, or Walmart. Also Old Navy and Macy’s (who has a sale almost every week-end). You can check them out on -line and get the stuff delivered. It is better that they be easy to get on and off , so if they are loose it is better than tight. You might even check out Amazon. And thank you for writing this blog. I am a student of James ‘ from the Y and I read it everyday. I am so happy that he is in acute rehab. These people really know what they are doing.
ReplyDeleteJudy Zucker
Dear Jennie,
ReplyDeleteBeen following all posts and thinking of the three of you often. Wonderful to hear he is now in rehab and actually stood up. The human body can amaze and I hope you will more see signs of that soon. The faculty artwork donated for the "James Sheehan and Family" silent auction is hanging on the Third floor now and looks beautiful.. The auction is going on now until next Wednesday at the 92 St. Y on Lexington Ave. in Manhattan, for all who'd like to see it and place a bid. Fingers crossed it is a big success. As for sweat pants, you may also want to try Ebay and/or thrift shops. Bill and I thank you for your regular updates and wish you much good luck in the days ahead.
With love, Paula Hunnicutt