4/18/24

And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.

So my moment this week happened on Tuesday. Want to know what happened?

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Oh, the joy of nothing! For the first time since Michael came home on March 22nd, we didn’t have a doctor’s appointment on our calendar for that day. We didn’t have an occupational therapy visit, or a physical therapy visit, or a speech therapy visit, or a nurse visit! There were no messages on MyChart from Froedtert or ProHealth. There was NOTHING! NOTHING! N-O-T-H-I-N-G!

<insert maniacal laughter here>

Okay. So I became a little unhinged. But really, this felt momentous. When Michael was preparing to come home from rehab, the people at rehab all cheered, “Imagine not having your drive every day anymore! It’s going to be so freeing!”

I cheered with them, until I began to see the writing on the wall and on our calendar. We haven’t had a week without at least three doctor appointments. We’ve had one therapist or another every day. My drive to the rehab was replaced and exceeded by my drives to the doctors at a variety of clinics and by running up and down the stairs to let the therapists or the nurse in.

It’s been just a little crazy. And really truly, I’m grateful. The doctors have all reported good news. The therapists have been working steadily with Michael and his recovery has been nothing short of amazing. I think back to the days I walked into his hospital room(s) to find him still and quiet and unable to be awakened, when the only signs of his being alive were the machines, the rise and fall of his breath, and sometimes, a frown. I think back to the days when I walked into his hospital room(s) to find him awake, but still not present, not recognizing me, living in the past at least twenty-five years ago, and the constant sad requests to “help me, help me, help me.” I look at him now and I am just struck speechless.

But holy cow, our schedule.

You have to bear in mind that I live in a live-where-you-work condo. AllWriters’ Workplace & Workshop, my business, is on the first floor and we live on the second and third floors. I am used to having this space to myself during the day and this is where I work. Over the years, Michael has been away at his job and Olivia has been at school and so the house was quiet during the day, other than my talking with my students and clients. I’ve grown used to, and depend on, the peace.

Nothing has really been peaceful since January 17th. When Michael was still in the hospital and rehab and I was alone, even at night, that peacefulness became very heavy. My home, which would come alive in the evenings with the sounds of Michael cooking and taking the dog out and talking to the cats and watching television and talking to me, took on a new kind of silence. It was a silence of emptiness, instead of a silence of purpose, which I experience during the day.

And then he came home…but the normalcy didn’t come back.

Though I will admit, my favorite times are when my workday is finally done, usually around midnight, and I come downstairs and I sit next to Michael on our loveseat with separate recliners. We watch television (currently reruns of the Love Boat and the original Frasier) and as the weeks since his homecoming have gone by and his recovery goes on, our conversation has resumed. Discussions about the guest stars on the Love Boat and where we know them from. Laughter.

Oh, the laughter. At times, though, tinged with regret. We started watching the Love Boat before the accident because we were planning on taking a cruise for our twenty-fifth anniversary coming up in October and so we “prepared” ourselves by watching the series about a cruise boat and its guests. That cruise has been canceled. I don’t know that it will ever be rescheduled.

But it’s at those times, late at night in our recliners, that the normalcy is almost there. Almost. There is still the walker standing at the ready by Michael’s feet. There is still knowing it will be me that takes the dog out for her final run, it’s me that loads and starts the dishwasher, it’s me that sets up the coffee pot for the morning, all things that Michael used to do. But it’s almost there. Watching Michael, I know there will come a time when he does these things again.

And then there was this Tuesday, just a couple days ago. The only people on my calendar were the people that were supposed to be there: four clients in the morning, two clients in the evening, and a class from 7 – 9. On Tuesdays, we do Tuesday Sundaes, a treat of frozen custard from Culver’s, and Olivia comes home so she can have a sundae too.

There were no doctors.

There were no therapists.

It was Just Us.

Oh, joy.

(Of course, on Wednesday, there was the occupational therapist, and today, there was the nurse, and tomorrow, there is the physical therapist…but there was Tuesday.)

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.

(And just for fun – in the photos, I’m including a picture of our new kitty, Oliver! Adopted from the humane society on Saturday. He is the perfect combination of Edgar Allen Paw and Muse – he is an orange tabby like Edgar, and he’s tiny, like Muse.)

My calendar, with the addition of the medical calendar below.
Oliver. Our new kitty.

5 Replies to “4/18/24”

  1. I have been following Michael’s story since I came across his Go Fund Me page. All of this is nothing short of a miracle, and you, Kathie, are among the angels that has made this miracle happen. God bless everyone who has contributed in anyway to Michael’s healing journey, and may it continue until he is fully healed! Godspeed!

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