The eternal return

I woke from a nightmare this morning.  James, Imogen, my mother, and I were living in a house on the top of a hill that overlooked the ocean. James and I have been watching the series Doc Martin on PBS which is filmed in Port Issac, a small fishing village in Cornwall, UK that has probably provided the setting for my dreamscape--as well as the cartoony ocean environment of the animation film Ponyo.

In the dream, the ocean was swelling beyond the shore and approaching the house's french doors that opened into a garden.  I walked out to the hillside and could see my mother standing on a very unstable part of a dune that was held together by plant life. A wave was building behind her as she turned to look at me and then, swept her away. I had to dive in and save her, then run up to the house to secure it from the onslaught.  At one point, the water receded and I was feverishly attempting to clean the bilge and debris from the house to receive the fellow townsfolk that had lost their homes.  I was vacuuming a large dining room that had been untouched for years--built-in linen cabinets filled with cobwebs and desiccated bug bodies.  There was a fat spider sitting atop an enormous egg sack--it was terribly frightening.  I carefully placed the end of the vacuum tube on the egg sack and sucked it down. The pipe of the vacuum bulged out for a second and then ran clear. Phew!

Last Tuesday, James and I took a walk around the neighborhood, without his rollator, with his occupational therapist Jack.  Jack created an exercise in which James had to point out all the bikes, dogs, and baby strollers that passed us on the street.  It was an assessment of James's capabilities to walk independently.  He is not quite ready. James walks very quickly and with assurance but he tends to focus on the space directly ahead of him. He does not always stop on the corners--nor does he look both ways for traffic.  It is Jack's opinion that James should not be outside the apartment on his own yet.

James does not necessarily believe this decision is accurate and feels that he is fine.  We had a tiny disagreement about it.  James becomes short with me if I touch his arm at intersections or tell him that he did not look both ways at the last corner. He explains to me that he is using his peripheral vision.

I am grateful that I have Jack as the objective, professional opinion.  I walked behind Jack and James when we strolled around the neighborhood and it was enlightening to me.  I am usually so preoccupied with keeping James safe that I do not actually see him in action. Jack would occasionally turn around to look at me as if to say, "See, there is another bicycle he did not see or he did not look both ways at that corner."

I was nervous about my return to work a few weeks ago and the thought of having James alone in the apartment with Imogen. Jack reassured me that he would be fine and I agree with him now.  James has progressed much in the past four weeks. I wish I had another month with him.

He is still experiencing difficulties with his short-term memory.

James will be assessed soon for his out-patient therapy at Rusk Rehabilitation (at NYU Langone).  I experienced a few weeks of delay coordinating between the two hospitals (Mt. Sinai for the referrals to Rusk) and the insurance company. I have finally scheduled assessments for James for speech and physical therapy at Rusk.  Hopefully, I will schedule the occupational therapy assessment soon and James may begin out-patient therapy by the end of the month or early September.

I am also hoping that the appointment with his neurologist this month will give me a better sense of his overall brain health.

Our application for financial assistance was rejected again, this time for another error on the part of the agency.  We may have to face another hearing to point out their errors.  I am beginning to think the errors are a purposeful means of keeping people from receiving aid. The more hurdles and delays presented, the possibility that the applicant will walk away from the process in frustration is high.  It is maddening to say the least and means further delays with regard to hiring a caregiver for James's appointments.

I am thinking that the blog has almost come to an end now.  James is preparing for a return to teaching in the Spring with a three-day workshop at the 92nd Street Y and the coming months will swiftly pass.  James is in the studio preparing for a small show that will be hung at the 92nd Street Y based on his color theory and recovery.  He's a busy guy.

Imogen begins middle school in September.  We will all be busy transitioning to our new lives.

James asks me if I am writing the blog but I feel my life now is too full of words--bureaucratic conversations with schedulers and social security.

I need a little reverse engineering. I have not read much in the past few weeks--I need that private headspace.  That is the only perk of my return to work tomorrow--the capsule of commute time in which I will be able to read!

Keep cool out there. It seems that this heat wave will be with us for about three days!