DISNEY!
James has hit a bit of rough patch, similar to the discovery of nasty blisters forming on each heel during a hike and there are still days to go on that camping trip. You may blame the new boots and curse up a storm but the reality of those blisters remain.
James has misplaced a portion of his courage and stamina for this rehabilitation process. His lament is "this sucks" but it is reaching deeper down into his spirit. He is not smiling and has a somewhat blank expression. The unexpected burst of joy that he first experienced in rehabilitation as a survivor of the intensive care unit has dissipated into the chore of waking up trapped in a body which he feels alienated from and he does not have the luxury of an omniscient perspective to grasp the amazing progress he is making on a daily basis.
He stood tall with the aid of a walker before the team today in the gym, including his doctor, as his PT Olivia, modeling the proper posture in front of him, gave directions to him to straighten his spine, lift up his chin, and pull his shoulders back. He looked great! His expression was sorrowful though. He slumped down into his chair afterward with the team standing around him, congratulating and encouraging him.
James did not accept it. The doctor asked him, "What do you think?" He declared, "This sucks. I cannot keep doing this." It was disappointing and sad to hear him so despondent. Olivia immediately declared, "You are going to walk out of here with a cane, no, you are going to walk out of here without any aid at all. You are going home to your daughter Imogen and your wife Jennie." I love Olivia.
James's doctor pulled me aside to consult and he has concerns over James's lack of emotional response lately. His doctor has the impression that James is rather flat. In all honesty, I think James is quietly saying screw you in his mind to the doctor. It's conjecture, on my part but I am thinking the same thing--James and I tend to be on the same page about people. Nonetheless, the doctor is not a bad guy--just has a different way of being that does not necessarily click with me and James. It has nothing to do with his capability as a doctor or at least, I am reserving judgment until I have a more information to go on beyond my personal first impression or instinctual reaction.
James psychologist also took me aside today to share some of her impressions of James. She too noticed that he's been rather blue. She told me that James shared with her that he feels protected when I am in rehab and that he misses me. Of course, she inevitably asked me if there was a way I could spend more time at Mt. Sinai. Sigh. I have attempted to get back in the saddle at work and thought the compromise split of my day was working out. I only have a few hours with James at the end of the day and I'm afraid it has not been enough.
The first thing James says to me every day is "I am so glad you are here."
I tried to dig a little deeper today with James and ask him what he has been thinking about. It has been hard to navigate alone through all this--James is usually the person I hash out everything with--my self-doubt or questions regarding other people's motivations. The sort of everyday stuff of life that I would share with James is now placed right back into my own brain--no sounding board, no input from my trusted companion. I wanted to share with him a little bit about Imogen and how we are dealing with this crisis at home. I barely started on speaking to him about it when he actually looked frightened in his face and said to me, "Too intense!" I felt terrible--he's not ready yet--I cannot share anything beyond happy, light conversation or story-telling.
I immediately turned away from exposing him to anything serious or concrete and instead, retold a humorous, silly story conveyed to me last night over taco Tuesday with our friends the Larkin family that involved a nostalgic look back of brothers wearing underwear over their pants as a sort of insane act of brotherly bravado which James immediately found much safer ground.
James did have a moment in which he wanted to tell me something very important. I was waiting with deep concentration focused on his lips as he was searching for the word that would explain it all. His lips trembled for several minutes and finally it came out and it was "DISNEY!" James has mentioned this to me before on multiple occasions and always in the same dramatic fashion. I am sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to tell me the thing that has been occupying his thoughts. What will it be? His fears about recovery? Worries about our daughter? Thoughts of our future? No. It's DISNEY. Imogen is in a Disney musical production at her school. She has landed the role of Shere Khan, the villain of the Jungle Book. James had agreed to create the sets for the musical. This is the cause of his anxiety--who is now building the sets for the Jungle Book! It makes me love him that much more that this is his priority in rehab!
Every day he is a step closer to removal of the trach tube which means, eating normally and removal of his stomach tube. It is a forward moving progression of the hike but James is only capable of acknowledging the metaphorical blisters.
I want to turn this around for him but it's difficult to do without actually being present. The psychologist asked me if there is someone that would be able to take my place. I have asked this of James every day--trying to have him open up to the idea of visitors. He's a social beast and loves people but I find that in this process, he wants to be enclosed in a space that fits only the two of us--there isn't even real acknowledgement of Imogen in this space. The psychologist noticed this too. I am surprised by this and I am not quite sure how to manage it. I always thought that James thrived on the presence of his crowd but I am finding, at this time, he does not want anyone else in there with him.
He's not interested in watching television which was a guilty pleasure in the past--no one was capable of watching as much television as James! He would rather sit quietly in his room just staring at my face. I do not know what to think of it all. I plan on cracking out the keyboard that Charles brought him this weekend--try to engage him in play with me to make him happy.
I want to inspire him to work hard at rehab and find the spark within himself to carry it through.
I plan on visiting him in the morning on Friday, taking a day off from work since I have to pick-up Imogen from school in the afternoon anyway. I will see if that makes a difference and then, reconsider the schedule at my job.
He's at such a critical point. I want him to catch his breath for the next big step.
James has misplaced a portion of his courage and stamina for this rehabilitation process. His lament is "this sucks" but it is reaching deeper down into his spirit. He is not smiling and has a somewhat blank expression. The unexpected burst of joy that he first experienced in rehabilitation as a survivor of the intensive care unit has dissipated into the chore of waking up trapped in a body which he feels alienated from and he does not have the luxury of an omniscient perspective to grasp the amazing progress he is making on a daily basis.
He stood tall with the aid of a walker before the team today in the gym, including his doctor, as his PT Olivia, modeling the proper posture in front of him, gave directions to him to straighten his spine, lift up his chin, and pull his shoulders back. He looked great! His expression was sorrowful though. He slumped down into his chair afterward with the team standing around him, congratulating and encouraging him.
James did not accept it. The doctor asked him, "What do you think?" He declared, "This sucks. I cannot keep doing this." It was disappointing and sad to hear him so despondent. Olivia immediately declared, "You are going to walk out of here with a cane, no, you are going to walk out of here without any aid at all. You are going home to your daughter Imogen and your wife Jennie." I love Olivia.
James's doctor pulled me aside to consult and he has concerns over James's lack of emotional response lately. His doctor has the impression that James is rather flat. In all honesty, I think James is quietly saying screw you in his mind to the doctor. It's conjecture, on my part but I am thinking the same thing--James and I tend to be on the same page about people. Nonetheless, the doctor is not a bad guy--just has a different way of being that does not necessarily click with me and James. It has nothing to do with his capability as a doctor or at least, I am reserving judgment until I have a more information to go on beyond my personal first impression or instinctual reaction.
James psychologist also took me aside today to share some of her impressions of James. She too noticed that he's been rather blue. She told me that James shared with her that he feels protected when I am in rehab and that he misses me. Of course, she inevitably asked me if there was a way I could spend more time at Mt. Sinai. Sigh. I have attempted to get back in the saddle at work and thought the compromise split of my day was working out. I only have a few hours with James at the end of the day and I'm afraid it has not been enough.
The first thing James says to me every day is "I am so glad you are here."
I tried to dig a little deeper today with James and ask him what he has been thinking about. It has been hard to navigate alone through all this--James is usually the person I hash out everything with--my self-doubt or questions regarding other people's motivations. The sort of everyday stuff of life that I would share with James is now placed right back into my own brain--no sounding board, no input from my trusted companion. I wanted to share with him a little bit about Imogen and how we are dealing with this crisis at home. I barely started on speaking to him about it when he actually looked frightened in his face and said to me, "Too intense!" I felt terrible--he's not ready yet--I cannot share anything beyond happy, light conversation or story-telling.
I immediately turned away from exposing him to anything serious or concrete and instead, retold a humorous, silly story conveyed to me last night over taco Tuesday with our friends the Larkin family that involved a nostalgic look back of brothers wearing underwear over their pants as a sort of insane act of brotherly bravado which James immediately found much safer ground.
James did have a moment in which he wanted to tell me something very important. I was waiting with deep concentration focused on his lips as he was searching for the word that would explain it all. His lips trembled for several minutes and finally it came out and it was "DISNEY!" James has mentioned this to me before on multiple occasions and always in the same dramatic fashion. I am sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to tell me the thing that has been occupying his thoughts. What will it be? His fears about recovery? Worries about our daughter? Thoughts of our future? No. It's DISNEY. Imogen is in a Disney musical production at her school. She has landed the role of Shere Khan, the villain of the Jungle Book. James had agreed to create the sets for the musical. This is the cause of his anxiety--who is now building the sets for the Jungle Book! It makes me love him that much more that this is his priority in rehab!
Every day he is a step closer to removal of the trach tube which means, eating normally and removal of his stomach tube. It is a forward moving progression of the hike but James is only capable of acknowledging the metaphorical blisters.
I want to turn this around for him but it's difficult to do without actually being present. The psychologist asked me if there is someone that would be able to take my place. I have asked this of James every day--trying to have him open up to the idea of visitors. He's a social beast and loves people but I find that in this process, he wants to be enclosed in a space that fits only the two of us--there isn't even real acknowledgement of Imogen in this space. The psychologist noticed this too. I am surprised by this and I am not quite sure how to manage it. I always thought that James thrived on the presence of his crowd but I am finding, at this time, he does not want anyone else in there with him.
He's not interested in watching television which was a guilty pleasure in the past--no one was capable of watching as much television as James! He would rather sit quietly in his room just staring at my face. I do not know what to think of it all. I plan on cracking out the keyboard that Charles brought him this weekend--try to engage him in play with me to make him happy.
I want to inspire him to work hard at rehab and find the spark within himself to carry it through.
I plan on visiting him in the morning on Friday, taking a day off from work since I have to pick-up Imogen from school in the afternoon anyway. I will see if that makes a difference and then, reconsider the schedule at my job.
He's at such a critical point. I want him to catch his breath for the next big step.
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