Tell-tale heart

I heard the noise of a saw the other night while making dinner and assumed it was coming from the neighbor, outside, but then, the sound seemed to emanate from the front of the apartment. Uh-oh. I walked quickly into James's studio and there he stood, hunched over a rickety folding table with a large piece of wood precariously balanced on wood blocks, holding his jigsaw and making a cut.

What are you doing?!  James responded, "It's fine. I am making a frame. Jigsaws are totally safe."  Argh!

I made him stop, took away the antique collapsing table and placed it outside in the hall.  I told him that it was unsafe to saw on such an unstable surface. What had he been thinking?  He shrugged.  I cleared the studio of furniture and opened a sturdy table surface. I told him I did not want him using power tools. He's stubborn. I watched over him as he made the cut--it was our 29th wedding anniversary! I warned him that I would be pissed-off if he sawed off a finger on our anniversary.

Two days later, he stood on the couch, reaching up to hang the frame on the wall while I was at work. I came home and saw the frame and asked how the hell it got up there.  Imogen immediately said, "I told him not to do it."  James replied, "It's fine. I did it, no problem."

He has an incredible ego.

James had two therapy assessments this week at Rusk Rehabilitation (38th Street and Second Avenue in Manhattan--just a few avenues over from my office!).  He's scheduled for four sessions of speech therapy and then, another swallow test which we hope he will pass.  We saw the physical therapist today and she put him through various tests. James thinks he did swell.  I was hoping it would provide a little more rational caution to his ego but his self-perception is stronger than ever.

One of the tests for balance had James standing on a piece of foam and then, closing his eyes for thirty seconds.  He cheated by opening his eyes at one point and the therapist caught him. She smiled at me.  James admitted, "It was scary."  He wobbles and has definite balance issues but he did amaze me by jogging for the first time. He appeared slightly insane smiling and jogging through the gym.

We both felt at home in Rusk--the vibe is similar to Mt. Sinai and I think both of us feel slightly nostalgic about James's time in hospital recovery.  Out-patient therapy is a much more grounded environment in that the patients are all stable and must be active participants in setting their goals.  James was accustomed to being told how his therapy would progress while he was in the hospital.  Today, the focus was on what James wanted to accomplish for himself. He said, "I want to drive and drink beer."  That's not exactly the answer the physical therapist was anticipating. She patiently explained that the speech therapist would work toward the beer consumption goal and occupational therapy would address his desire to drive a car.

I explained to James that he has to set realistic goals for himself--to reflect a bit about what he is capable of now and what exactly he would like to strengthen, from a physical standpoint. I told him that some people are willing to accept limited capabilities with regard to their bodies and that is why he was asked by the therapist about what he would like to improve upon. I told him he should aim high--to ride a bike and recover his full range of motion.

James will be able to commute by ferry (if he has someone to accompany him home) from Rusk.  James, Imogen and I all took the ferry home after this afternoon's assessment. It is so nice--much better than the subway.  I plan on scheduling his appointments so that James will commute into work with me and then, walk over to Rusk from my office.  While Imogen is still on summer vacation, she will be able to accompany him to Rusk and ride the ferry home with him. Once she starts school though, James will need to take a cab home, unless, we can hire a caregiver to commute with him.

Our application for financial aid was rejected yet again, this time, the agency is claiming that Imogen was adopted and that James's meager balance in his Met retirement account is actually, a bi-weekly adoption subsidy!  Our attorneys have requested a fair hearing to prove that I gave birth to Imogen--it's such an insane level of absurdity.  The hearing conflicts with James's therapy schedule at Rusk.  I cannot think of a more ridiculous situation!  We are requesting financial aid to pay for caregivers to accompany James on his appointments and the agency is forcing James to give up his therapy and attend a hearing--one that would require a caregiver to accompany him--to prove that he's the baby-daddy for Imogen!

I discovered this week that a twenty-two story hotel is being built into the airspace outside my office window. I was notified by the building manager that my window will be filled with bricks--the hotel will be less than eight inches away.  This news really destroyed my spirit because the view from my window is one of the few things that keeps me sane while I am at work. I have witnessed breathtaking natural events such as swirling funnels of snow and lightening strikes over midtown Manhattan. I often take a break to watch birds glide by or workers repair water towers down the canyon.  I do not know what I will do walled in to my office--like a tomb.  It is disheartening. 

I plan on taking a photo of the view and have asked James to paint it for me. I will hang the painting on the brick wall that was once my view to the natural world.

Sigh.

I have asked the partners to take pity on me and perhaps find a window office for me, once the dust settles. Unfortunately, twenty-eight offices in the firm are effected by the new building and I am too low on the food chain to acquire a windowed office.

More reason to have faith in the transformation of art.  It's a big commission for James--I hope he can do it!