Sunday, January 16, 2011

How's Your Husband?

Human communication is weak at it's best, often awkward or careless, but seldom pristine.  Flawed as it is, it's a necessity for healthy existance.   So we keep trying.  Me, I get, "how's your husband?"  Well, it's kind of them to ask, but I don't think the askers really want to know.  So how to I answer?  Do I say, "He's doing fine",  or "He's making progress", or "About the same", or  "He's doing some walking", or "Amazing"?  Each gives a message that's part truth, part upper lip, part, "You really don't want to know." and part "I don't have time to really tell you how he is. 

So, how is my husband?  He's still a quadriplegic.  He still is totally dependent on others for everything short of a TV remote and a wheelchair joystick.  But that doesn't give an adequate picture, because that sounds pitiful and sorrowful and that is not how my husband is. 

On top of not being able to do anything for himself, my husband is in almost constant pain unless regularlly medicated.  But that doesn't give an adequate picture, because that sounds miserable and adgitated and gruesome, and that is not how my husband is. 

So, how is my husband?  Positive.  Supporting.  Encouraging.  Faithful.  Stimulating.  Imaginative.  Challenging.  Free thinking.  Creative and fun.  Which translates to "amazing." 

He gets physical therapy three times a week for an hour.  During that hour he walks.  Some days he walks 10 steps other days 60 or more.  He has no awareness where his feet or legs are.  It's called propreoseption.  He just doesn't have it.  So, walking is laborious.  It's a thinking as well as a physical challenge.   But he keeps at it.  He gets a little better, then not so good, then a little better.  Over and over, but the progress is real.  Minature but real.. 

He gets occupation therapy 2-3 times a week for an hour.  During that hour he picks things up.  Pegs, wads of newspaper, rocks.  He practices the movement of fingers and arms.  He tears pages out of magazines, wads them up and throws them in a container.  This is so strenuous that after 2-3 pages he's exhausted.  But he has the energy to smile, say thank you to his therapist, control the joystick to manuver himself to the car and get back home. 

We do accupuncture to stimulate whatever that can be stimulated, we do reflexology to keep the energy flowing, he is trying shots to help with pain, and on top of everything, he still makes me laugh and believe in the God which is the knower and controller of all. 

So, "How's your husband doing?"  Awesome!  He's my great gift.  I get tired.  He lifts me up.  I lose faith.  He builds it back and helps me find it.  I get discouraged.  He gives me kindness and joy.  I get scared.  He prays with me.  "How's my husband?"  No one could do what he's doing as well as he's doing it. 

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